"Not I! I wouldn't disfigure you for worlds; it quite completes your
appearance. It would be a sin to remove what Nature seems to have forgotten
in your make-up."
"Do take it off for him, Dexie," said Gussie, coaxingly. I would myself,
only I don't want to dirty my hands."
"And do you think that _Dexter_ is going to soil her beautiful hands by
touching the dirty rags? No; Dexter is not! There might be smallpox on them
for all I know; I'm sure they're spotted enough."
Plaisted turned and twisted himself this way and that, in vain endeavors to
reach the back of his coat, but could not manage it; and as he stood for a
minute, his hands held out in front of him, while he looked over his
shoulder at the unwelcome appendage, he did indeed present a woful figure.
"Why don't you take your coat off?" Gussie said at last.
"Oh! confound it; I never thought of that," as he twisted himself out of
his coat.
"Why, of course you didn't think of it," retorted Dexie. "How could you be
expected to? Everybody knows that creatures with tails are not supposed to
think at all."
"Dexie, I'll tell papa if you won't stop; you are impudent," Gussie said,
sharply.
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