"I'll play it is Siam,and this the house of a native,and I'm come to show the folks how to live nicely.Miss Bat won't know what to make of it,and I can't tell her,so I shall get some fun out of it,anyway,"thought Molly,as she surveyed the dining-room the day her mission began.
The prospect was not cheering;and,if the natives of Siam live in such confusion,it is high time they were attended to.The breakfast-table still stood as it was left,with slops of coffee on the cloth;bits of bread,egg-shells,and potato-skins lay about,and one lonely sausage was cast away in the middle of a large platter.The furniture was dusty,stove untidy,and the carpet looked as if crumbs had been scattered to chickens who declined their breakfast.Boo was sitting on the sofa,with his arm through a hole in the cover,hunting for some lost treasure put away there for safe keeping,like a little magpie as he was.Molly fancied she washed and dressed him well enough;but to-day she seemed to see more dearly,and sighed as she thought of the hard job in store for her if she gave him the thorough washing he needed,and combed out that curly mop of hair.
"I'll clear up first and do that by and by.I ought to have a nice little tub and good towels,like Mrs.Minot,and I will,too,if I buy them myself,"she said,piling up cups with an energy that threatened destruction to handles.
Miss Bat,who was trailing about the kitchen,with her head pinned up in a little plaid shawl,was so surprised by the demand for a pan of hot water and four clean towels,that she nearly dropped her snuff-box,chief comfort of her lazy soul.
"What new whimsey now?Generally,the dishes stand round till I have time to pick 'em up,and you are off coasting or careering somewhere.Well,this tidy fit won't last long,so I may as well make the most of it,"said Miss Bat,as she handed out the required articles,and then pushed her spectacles from the tip of her sharp nose to her sharper black eyes for a good look at the girl who stood primly before her,with a clean apron on and her hair braided up instead of flying wildly about her shoulders.
"Umph!"was all the comment that Miss Bat made on this unusual neatness,and she went on scraping her saucepans,while Molly returned to her work,very well pleased with the effect of her first step,for she felt that the bewilderment of Miss Bat would be a constant inspiration to fresh efforts.
An hour of hard work produced an agreeable change in the abode of the native,for the table was cleared,room swept and dusted,fire brightened,and the holes in the sofa-covering were pinned up till time could be found to mend them.To be sure,rolls of lint lay in corners,smears of ashes were on the stove hearth,and dust still lurked on chair rounds and table legs.But too much must not be expected of a new convert,so the young missionary sat down to rest,well pleased and ready for another attempt as soon as she could decide in what direction it should be made.She quailed before Boo as she looked at the unconscious innocent peacefully playing with the spotted dog,now bereft of his tail,and the lone sausage with which he was attempting to feed the hungry animal,whose red mouth always gaped for more.
"It will be an awful job,and he is so happy I won't plague him yet.
Guess I'll go and put my room to rights first,and pick up some clean clothes to put on him,if he is alive after I get through with him,"thought Molly,foreseeing a stormy passage for the boy,who hated a bath as much as some people hate a trip across the Atlantic.
Up she went,and finding the fire out felt discouraged,thought she would rest a little more,so retired under the blankets to read one of the Christmas books.The dinner-bell rang while she was still wandering happily in "Nelly's Silver Mine,"and she ran down to find that Boo had laid out a railroad all across her neat room,using bits of coal for sleepers and books for rails,over which he was dragging the yellow sled laden with a dismayed kitten,the tailless dog,and the remains of the sausage,evidently on its way to the tomb,for Boo took bites at it now and then,no other lunch being offered him.
"Oh dear!why can't boys play without making such a mess,"sighed Molly,picking up the feathers from the duster with which Boo had been trying to make a "cocky-doo"of the hapless dog."I'll wash him right after dinner,and that will keep him out of mischief for a while,"she thought,as the young engineer unsuspiciously proceeded to ornament his already crocky countenance with squash,cranberry sauce,and gravy,till he looked more like a Fiji chief in full war-paint than a Christian boy.
"I want two pails of hot water,please,Miss Bat,and the big tub,"said Molly,as the ancient handmaid emptied her fourth cup of tea,for she dined with the family,and enjoyed her own good cooking in its prime.
"What are you going to wash now?"
"Boo--I'm sure he needs it enough";and Molly could not help laughing as the victim added to his brilliant appearance by smearing the colors all together with a rub of two grimy hands,making a fine Turner,of himself.