' Keep us thawed and unburst, or Fitz-Jones
will feel he has scored a moral victory; he will strut cross-gartered,
with yellow stockings, for the rest of his days."
"I don't know what you are talking about," said Evangeline, "but
Christabel and I" (Christabel is our general-in-command) "have been
cosseting those pipes all day. Been giving them glasses of hot water
and dressing them up in all our clothes. The bath-pipe is wearing my
new furs and your pyjamas, and I've put your golf stockings on the
geyser-pipe. I expect they'll all blow up. Come and look at the
hot-water cistern."
The cistern looked dressy in Evangeline's fur coat. I added my silk
hat to the geyser's cosy costume and a pair of boots on the bath-taps.
But I was told not to be silly, so took them off again.
I suggested that the geyser should go to a fancy-dress ball as "The
Winter of our Discontent," but was again told not to be silly.
Two days elapsed. The frost held. Then something happened.
Fitz-Jones's lady-help came round at 7.30 A.M. to borrow a drop of
water, as they were frozen up.
We lent them several drops, and I breathed again, and continued to
breathe, with snorts of derision.
Three days later the thaw came.
As I passed Fitz-Jones's house I was grieved to hear a splashing
sound. A cascade of water was spouting from his bathroom window.
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