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FOLLOWING ANN
CHAPTER I greatness thrust upon him
In accordance witli his admirable daily custom, Mr. Joseph Pargiter Moon, A.R.A., was taking a bath. The iact would have been obvious to any person with a knowledge of Mr. Moon's habits who chanced to be within a hundred-yard radius, for Mr. Moon was one of those who take their baths vocally. From him, as he lay half-submerged and vigorously soaped his head, there issued a fine old sea-chanty of the more robust sort—so robust, indeed, that the bathroom Avas the only place where Mr. Moon could sing it as it should be sung, to wit, loudly. The bathroom was full of steam and melody; the bath, which was small, was full of Mr. Moon, who was large; and Mr. Moon's left eye, as the abrupt cessation of the chanty and the substitution of several forceful expressions of opinion testified, was full of soap. In the lull that followed this contretemps there became audible a gentle knocking at the bathroom door.
"Well?" roared Mr. Moon, rubbing his eye.
Through the door filtered the genteel voice of Mr. Henry Shoesmith, who represented fifty per cent, of Mr. Moon's domestic staff, Mrs. Emma Shoesmith, wife to Henry, representing the rest.