Lay it upon a clean cloth, and wash upon each side with a sponge; press on the wrong side. If very much soiled, wash in bran-water; add to the water in which it is rinsed a little muriate of tin to set red, oil of vitriol for green, blue, maroon, and bright yellow.
Zeen groaned; he opened his eyes wide and looked round wildly at all those people. He hung there for a very long time, with his lean black legs out of the bed and the bony knees and shrunk thighs in the insipid, sickly-smelling steam of the bran-water. Then they lifted him out and stuck his wet feet under the bedclothes again. Zeen did not stir, but just lay with the rattle in his throat.
The sieve went on dragging. The women looked at Zeen, then at one another and then at the lantern. In the kitchen, the kettle sang drearily.... Warten came down from the loft with half a pailful of bran. Barbara poured the steaming water on it and flung in a handful of salt. They took the clothes off the bed and pulled his feet into the bran-water.