The explosion which my question provoked was truly terrible.

The panting alien and Berry immediately reappeared, one upon either side
of the car, the latter protesting with an injured air that he was not so
young as he was, and that, if I wanted him to survive the summer, I had
better keep my ears open, while, to judge from his behaviour, the
reflection that his recent output of vigour had been rendered nugatory
by my unreadiness was hurrying Mr. Dunkelsbaum into the valley of
insanity. Purple in the face from the unwonted violence of his physical
and mental exercise, streaming with perspiration and shaking with
passion, the fellow stormed and raved like a demoniac, and, if Berry had
not stepped in front of the bonnet and, taking him by the arm, led him
again to the back of the car, I believe he would have fallen down in a
fit.

"Are you ready?" I called.

A hurricane of affirmatory invective answered me.

I started the engine, changed into first and let in the clutch. As I
changed into second, uprose a medley of cries and barking. I leaned out,
exhorting the pedestrians by words and gestures to come aboard....

Head up, teeth bared, fists clenched and arms working, Mr. Dunkelsbaum
was running like a stag. Berry was loping along just behind, apparently
offering encouragement and advice, while the Sealyham was alternately
running and jumping up and down in front of the frantic alien, barking
as if he were possessed. Even as I looked, the inevitable happened.
Nobby miscalculated his distance and landed too close to the object of