_Second Jolly Bather_ (_impatiently_). _Don't_, ARTHUR, make that row! B-r-r-r! (_Shivers._) Spring's _delights_, indeed! And as to the "verdant leaflets" (unless you mean election squibs), where _are_ they? _First Ditto._ Ah, "verdant leaflets" not a bad name for Financial Reform tracts, _et id genus omne_. Touch of your old satirical Saturday-Reviewish style there, Nunky! _Second Ditto_ (_hastily_). Oh, bother! What are we here for? _First Ditto_ (_coolly_). Why, to _bathe_, I presume. _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 I am the last person in the world to object to a process from which I have profited so much." _Second Ditto_. Oh, yes, that was all very well for them, over yonder. In fact, I own it was rather neatly put. _First Ditto_ (_slily_). Didn't "lack finish," was sufficiently "_ad unguem_," eh, Nunky? _Second Ditto_ (_moodily_). Ah! what do you youngsters know about those fine old fighting days? I didn't love DIZZY, but he was a neat hand with the foils, boy. _First Ditto_. Especially in a bout with a friend,--with the buttons off. But I say, this isn't bathing, you know! _Second Ditto_. No. (_Eyeing the stream distastefully._) Hadn't we better postpone the pleasure till a little later in the season, ARTHUR. When those "Spring's delights" of which you melodiously twangle are a leetle more _en évidence_. _First Ditto_ (_pipes_). Hawthorn buds give joyful tidings. Welcome, youths, 'tis bright bath-day! _Second Ditto_. Ah! if we're here to do the Eclogue business, STREPHON can take his turn, as well as CORYDON. [_Sings._ Let us plunge into the ri-i-i-v-e-e-r! Leave our vesture on the bank! _First Ditto_. Bless me, STREPHON, how you shi-i-v-e-e-r! _Second Ditto_. 'Tis like a fishmonger's tank!