Mrs. Schofield came running, and eloquently put an end to Duke's
winter bath. When she had suggested this cleansing as a pleasant
means of passing the time, she assumed that it would take place
in a washtub in the cellar; and Penrod's location of the
performance in her own bathroom was far from her intention.
Penrod found her language oppressive, and, having been denied the
right to rub Duke dry with a bath-towel--or even with the cover
of a table in the next room--the dismal boy, accompanied by his
dismal dog, set forth, by way of the kitchen door, into the
dismal weather. With no purpose in mind, they mechanically went
out to the alley, where Penrod leaned morosely against the fence,
and Duke stood shivering close by, his figure still emaciated and
his tail absolutely withdrawn from view.
There was a cold, wet wind, however; and before long Duke found
his condition unendurable. He was past middle age and cared
little for exercise; but he saw that something must be done.
Therefore, he made a vigorous attempt to dry himself in a dog's
way. Throwing himself, shoulders first, upon the alley mud, he
slid upon it, back downward; he rolled and rolled and rolled.
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