frankly. "It is strongly carbolic. Go and call him in, will you, Bobby?"
Bobby found Twaddles blissfully watching the shivering Philip enduring a last rinsing after his bath. Sam liked to keep him clean, and he said that because a dog had a broken leg was no reason why he shouldn't be washed.
"Mother says for you to come in," Bobby told his brother. "It's time to get ready for supper. Gee, that soap does smell, doesn't it?"
"I like it," Twaddles affirmed, sniffing luxuriously. "I wish we took baths with that kind."
Mother Blossom sent him to the bathroom to wash his face and hands and she brushed his hair for him herself.
"What is that I keep smelling?" she asked once or twice, "Oh, the carbolic dog-soap. Twaddles, I do wish you wouldn't handle it so much."
"Who's been to the drug store?" said Father Blossom, when they sat down to supper. "Phew! I smell carbolic, strong."
"Philip had a bath," explained Twaddles uneasily. "Perhaps you smell it, Daddy."
