There was dead silence within the room and without. Then the door opened, and Mr. Alkaloid came out cheerfully.
"The poodle's dead all right," he said. "What you took to be blood, Ropes, was blacking off your razor. You really ought not to strop them on your boot. I'll walk round to your shop with you. I want my hair singed."
Alice went into hysterics; Algernon swooned with joy; and Cyril Mush had a fit.
At the moment of going to press, they are all three still in the above condition. The dog, in the meantime, has been accidentally stuffed with the stuffing intended for the stuffer's Christmas goose. The goose was found, on carving, to be stuffed with several shilling shockers, which had been intended to pad the poodle.
And to what better use could they have been put—especially if they were all like this?
MISUNDERSTOOD!
(Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood.)