A new page, on which to write such wonderful
things (in the order book) as: "Jennie may get up this afternoon."
Or: "Lizzie Smith, small piece of beef steak."
On the morning after the election Doctor Smalley rose unusually
early, and did five minutes of dumb bells, breathing very deep
before his window, having started the cold water in the tub first.
At the end of that time he padded in his bare feet to the top of
the stairs and called in a huge, deep-breathing voice:
"Ten minutes."
These two cryptic words seeming to be perfectly understood below,
followed the sound of a body plunging into water, a prolonged
"Wow!" from the bathroom, and noisy hurried splashing. Dressing
was a rapid process, due to a method learned during college days,
which consists of wearing as little as possible, and arranging it
at night so that two thrusts (trousers and under-drawers), one
enveloping gesture (shirt and under-shirt), and a gymnastic effort
of standing first on one leg and then on the other (socks and shoes),
made a fairly completed toilet.
While putting on his collar and tie the doctor stood again by the
window, and lustily called the garage across the narrow street.
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