"Cold tubs?" repeated his wife, staring at him. "What cold tubs?"

"The cold tubs me and Bert ought to 'ave," said Mr. Jobson. "It says in
the book that an Englishman would just as soon think of going without his
breakfus' as his cold tub; and you know how fond I am of my breakfus'."

"And what about me and the gals?" said the amazed Mrs. Jobson.

"Don't you worry about me, ma," said Gladys, hastily.

"The book don't say nothing about gals; it says Englishmen," said Mr.
Jobson.

"But we ain't got a bathroom," said his son.

"It don't signify," said Mr. Jobson. "A washtub'll do. Me and Bert'll
'ave a washtub each brought up overnight; and it'll be exercise for the
gals bringing the water up of a morning to us."

"Well, I don't know, I'm sure," said the bewildered Mrs. Jobson.
"Anyway, you and Bert'll 'ave to carry the tubs up and down. Messy, I
call it.

"It's got to be done, mother," said Mr. Jobson cheerfully. "It's only
the lower orders what don't 'ave their cold tub reg'lar. The book says
so."

He trundled the tub upstairs the same night and, after his wife had gone
downstairs next morning, opened the door and took in the can and pail