In the meantime Davis had started a fire and filled a caldron with potatoes.
Davis observed, pausing from dabbing the end of her nose with a powder-puff.
So he did his best to endure the scrubbing, and all might have been well had not Davis soused him under.
Davis kept the hungry dogs warned away by sharp cries.
Well, after this they can't say I don't never give my dogs a bath," Davis remarked from the sink, where he was rinsing his arms.
But he had to get upon the chair, first, and when Davis so ordered him he accompanied the order with a clout on the side of the head.
Which shows, dearest, what a bit of the stick will do," Davis bragged to his wife.
The dogs sat on their chairs in abject silence with Davis and his wife menacing them to remain silent, while, in front of the curtain, Dick and Daisy Bell delighted the matinee audience with their singing and dancing.
Wilton Davis cursed unbelievably as he sprang down the stage to Michael.
Davis struck shrewd blows that could be heard, as were heard the snarls and growls of Michael.
The audience took up the cry, the dogs barked more excitedly, and five minutes of hilarity delayed the turn which, when at last started, was marked by rustiness and erraticness on the part of the dogs and by great peevishness on the part of Wilton Davis.
The curtain down, with a gleeful audience in front and with the dogs back in the room over the stage, Wilton Davis descended to look for Michael, who, instead of cowering in some corner, stood between the legs of the stage-hand, quivering yet from his mishandling and threatening to fight as hard as ever if attacked.
You keep away from me, or I'll lay you out," Wilton Davis responded desperately, brandishing a short iron bar in his right hand.
You've raised hell," the manager of the theatre greeted Davis, as the latter, trailed by Dick Bell, came upon Michael bristling from between the legs of the stage-hand.
Nothing to what I'm going to raise," Davis retorted, shortening his grip on the iron bar and raising it.