_Second Ditto._ Bah! One would think, ARTHUR, we belonged to that
society of lunatics who make a point of taking a matutinal plunge in
the Serpentine every morning, all the year round, _even if they have
to break the ice to do it_! Ineffable idiots! [_Curls up._

_First Ditto._ Well, we may as well put a good face on it, Uncle.

[_Grimaces._

_Second Ditto_. Ah, yes, you can say so--at _your_ age, ARTHUR. I like
my morning tub in my bath-room--with the chill off.

[_Wraps his towel round his neck._

_First Ditto_. (_Sings again, tremolo_):--
Why linger shivering on the brink,
And fear to launch away?

_Second Ditto_ (_sharply_). Why, you're at it again, ARTHUR! And a
Conventicler's hymn, too, this time. I'm a-a-shamed of you.

_First Ditto_. Ah! that's what LABOUCHERE, O'KELLY, CONYBEARE, and
Company say! _I_ don't mind; in fact, as I told 'em, I rather like it.
Does me a world of good.

_Second Ditto_ (_admiringly_). Ah! you _have_ got a nerve, ARTHUR. I
_will_ say that for you. Still, you've been giving them something to
"guy" you about lately, you know.

_First Ditto_ (_sharply_). Ah! have I? Well, "I can assure you that