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Updated: June 19, 2025
Never had she so craved sleep; and her mental and physical contentment of three hours and a half before had been succeeded by headache, a general soreness, a horrible attack of the blues. She grew somewhat better, however, as she washed first in hot water, then in cold at the stationary stand which was quite as efficient if not so luxurious as a bathtub.
It seems to be a question entirely of temperament. As the man said when his friends asked him how he made his famous cocktail, "It depends on my mood." The truth is that each man in selecting his outfit generally follows the lines of least resistance. With one, the pleasure he derives from his morning bath outweighs the fact that for the rest of the day he must carry a rubber bathtub.
Whistling Dick set his candle on a chair and placed his hat carefully under the table. After satisfying what we must suppose to have been his curiosity by a sober scrutiny, he removed his coat, folded it, and laid it upon the floor, near the wall, as far as possible from the unused bathtub. Taking his coat for a pillow, he stretched himself luxuriously upon the carpet.
"I'm rested now," said the girl, sitting up. "Is there no, of course there isn't a bathtub on the place?" she laughed. "Bathtub? Well, I should say not, but your pitcher's full, I guess. You'll get used to being without bathtubs after a while. They ain't half as important as folks think." "I don't mind. I've camped," said Polly, heroically.
Madeline's mother, hearing the screams of the little girls in the bathroom, ran to see what the matter was. "Has anything happened, children?" she asked. "My Candy Rabbit got caught on the towel and I pulled him into the bathtub of water," Madeline explained. "Will he come all to pieces, Mother?" Mother looked at the Candy Rabbit carefully. He did not seem to be harmed much.
In a flash-back she could see those seventeen years of beefsteak suppers; his temples at-their trick of working. Seventeen years all cluttered up with bed casters, bathtub stoppers, and poultry wiring. That party back there at Flora's. The lotto and tiddledywinks tables laid out. Zoe caught! She closed over his wrists with a little predatory grip. "Albert, don't do that! Don't take her back.
When you get up in the morning, if the hour is early, you will find the old woman giving the baby its bath. The poor, little thin thing will wriggle joyously in the warm water, once it gets used to the daily bathing. Its head will be soaped first, then sponged. It will be dried with a warm towel, and you can hit the tin bathtub with your keys to keep it from crying while its clothes are put on.
She smiled; a wavering, pleading little smile that conquered. "Of course, I don't mind, Countess," I hastened to say. "Only I thought it would be cosier up there with Rosemary and the two maids for company." She leaned a little closer to me. "We all sleep down here," she said confidentially. "We bring Rosemary's little mattress down every night and put it in the bathtub.
There's such a noise nobody can sleep. But Anton says, "Nice little pig. I fix you up fine. Nice little pig." And so he fills the bathtub up with dirt. Then he turns on the water. And what does he say? He says, "Now, little pig, we have fine mud for you. Nice fine mud." Yes, your honor, a whole bathtub full of mud. And when the pig sees this he gets happy and lies down and goes to sleep.
And Anton sits in the bathroom and looks at the pig all night and says, "See. He's asleep. It's like home for him." But the next day Anton must go to work. All right, he'll go to work. But first, understand everybody, he don't want this pig touched. The pig stays in the bathtub and he must be there when he comes home. All right. The pig stays in the bathtub, your honor. Anton wants it.
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