"Whiz-z-z-z-z-t!" shouts Mr. Manhug, as they emerge into the cool air, in
accents which only Wieland could excel; "there goes a cat!" Upon the
information a volley of hats follow the scared animal, none of which go
within ten yards of it, except Mr. Rapp's, who, taking a bold aim, flings
his own gossamer down the area, over the railings, as the cat jumps
between them on to the water-butt, which is always her first leap in a
hurried retreat. Whereupon Mr. Rapp goes and rings the house-bell, that
the domestics may return his property; but not receiving an answer, and
being assured of the absence of a policeman, he pulls the handle out as
far as it will come, breaks it off, and puts it in his pocket. After this
they run about the streets, indulging in the usual buoyant recreations
that innocent and happy minds so situated delight to follow, and are
eventually separated by their flight from the police, from the safe plan
they have adopted of all running different ways when pursued, to bother
the crushers. What this leads to we shall probably hear next week, when
they are once more _reunis_ in the dissecting-room to recount their
adventures.
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