So now I knew that he was thudding after me in the snow, bursting to hear that my pipes had burst or were about to burst.
"Hallo, Browne," he began, "how'd you like this?"
"Oh, all right," I said airily. Here I did a wonderful step. Slide on the right heel—hesitation shuffle on the left toe—two half slips sideways. Wave both arms—backward bend. Recover. Jazz—tangle—tickle-toe was nothing to it.
"Slippery, isn't it?" he said. "My flannel was frozen to the wash-stand to-day—had to get it off with a chisel."
I was prepared for these travellers' tales. I knew he was leading up to water-pipes.
"Couldn't get my cold tub," he went on; "frozen solid overnight."
I had heard of this cold tub before. "My tooth-brush froze on to my teeth," I capped him; "the teapot spout was hung with icicles, and the cat's tongue froze on to the milk when it was drinking."
"How about your pipes?" he began, "Who was right about wrapping?"
"Rapping," I said in well-feigned innocence—"rapping? Who rapped? Rapped on what?"
That set him going.