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"Think I'm going to waste this glorious day, knitting washrags?" with ineffable scorn. "You two old grandmothers can knit and read all you want to. I've too much else to do." "Cricket is afraid she'll get her washrag done, if she works on it," laughed Eunice. "Well, what if I am?" returned Cricket, defensively. "As long as I have that on hand, nobody can ask me to do anything else.
"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never wash on a Wednesday sence we's born," he protested indignantly. Billy's idea of a bath was taken from the severe weekly scrubbing which Aunt Cindy gave him with a hard washrag, and he felt that he'd rather die at once than have to bathe every day.
"I guess Lorna and Ida'll be enough for us to bother to remember," laughed Miss Driscoll. "The rest's liable to change. You've just come, haven't you?" "About an hour ago. I've got only a toothbrush, a comb, a washrag and a cake of soap. I bought them on my way here." "Baggage lost eh?" said Ida, amused. "No," admitted Susan. "I'm beginning an entire new deal." "I'll lend you a nightgown.
Into this she gently lowered herself until she was able to relax and recline without discomfort. Then she stood up and with the soap and washrag gave herself the most thorough scrubbing of her life. Time after time she soaped and rubbed and scrubbed, and dipped herself in the hot water.
So Cricket had toiled her way through a pair of reins for Kenneth, and had also accomplished a red and white striped washrag for Helen. Her present undertaking was a blue and white one for Zaidee. It was now a year old. "If Zaidee was in need of that washrag, she'd be a blackamoor before she gets it," said Eunice. "She isn't starving for it," returned Cricket, comfortably.
Fletcher was pretty well versed in his tricks, thanks to long years of experience, and there was little chance of further delay. So John sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the bed, while he rubbed his sleep-laden eyes with his fists. "Need a wet washrag?" No. He was wide awake now.
"John Henry found this in a New York paper and brought it to me. He thought you ought to see it, though, of course, it may not be so serious as it sounds." "Serious?" repeated Virginia, letting the soapy washrag fall back into the basin while she stretched out her moist and reddened hand for the paper. "It says that the play didn't go very well," pursued her mother guardedly.
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