Forty three. The return.

The Messrs. P are back from Morocco where they kept Ramona and JillZarin from setting each other's custom made kaftans on fire.  Little did they know that they would return to temperatures that would melt a camel. 

"Air, Mr. P, I need air!  Good Lord, what fresh hell is this?  Call the Countess immediately - she will resolve this foul mistreatment!"

Forty two.

"Good Lord, Mr. P, what is that?"

Forty one.

"Get DOWN, Mr. P - that is not for you!"

Forty.

'Isn't this nice, Mr. P.  A relaxing day by the water...."

Thirty nine.

"I don't know, Mr. P.  This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for some dry corn. I don't care how cute the squirrels look!"

Thirty eight.

"Dear Diary, I never thought this would happen to me...."

Thirty seven.

"Tally ho!"