THE SHOWER 149 



flutters fringe-like from a dome like a shiny 

 new-laid egg. 



From a calm, peaceful, well-balanced philos- 

 opher, he becomes a raging, gibbering maniac. 

 He rushes after the fleeing hat and bounding 

 umbrella. Can he overtake them ? The wind is a 

 sixty-mile-an-hour gale, in gusts. He cannot do 

 better than twenty. Away he goes and is soon out 

 of sight. None too soon, however, for although 

 the picture is exhilarating, his language is calcu- 

 lated to chill the blood, and his wild, furious 

 gestures, his frenzied, rolling eyes, are disquiet- 

 ing to the sensitive. 



As he disappears, a supple, slight, graceful 

 young lady comes tripping along. Here is some- 

 thing worth while. Dorothy Dodds in tan and 

 tan hose. She holds her dress a trifle high, but I 

 can forgive a good deal in that line. See! she 

 comes to a deep puddle. Well ! really ! that w r as 

 a little never mind, it was necessary, and she 

 did it very gracefully, and I would not have 

 missed it for anything. 



She is followed by a well-groomed young man 

 who is so interested in the contemplation of her 

 many charms that he walks off the sidewalk into 

 about a foot of muddy water. Serves him right, 

 too! 



Now comes an old scrub-woman with faded 

 brown shawl closely wrapped about her bent 



