Jean Beraud Le Bal Mabile

Jean Beraud Le Bal MabileJean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevardJean Beraud A Game of Billiards
probably pouring the water in,” he said.
“You’ve got a minute or two,” said his wife. “Go on, or we’ll be drinking yogurt for weeks.”
Mr. Skindle took down a halter from behind the door, and crept out to where his goat was tethered near the hedge. It too had learned to, one after the other. Shrapnel whizzed past Mr. Skindle’s ear.
“—wizzaaardsah staaafff has a knobontheend, knobon-
theend—“
He threw the goat through the doorway and leapt after it. His wife was waiting, and slammed the recognize the bathtime ritual, and was rigid with apprehension.There was no point in trying to drag it. Eventually he picked it up bodily.There was a distant but insistent sloshing noise, and the144LQRQ6 ft/VQ LftQ/£Sbonging sound of a floating pumice stone bouncing on the side of a tin bath.Mr. Skindle started to run.Then there was the distant tinkle of a banjo being tuned.The world held its breath.Then it came, like a tornado sweeping across a prairie.“AAaaaaeeeeeee—“Three flowerpots outside the door cracked