far down the street. The wash-tubs were old-fashioned, of wood; they
refused to fit one within the other; so William, with his right hand,
and Genesis, with his left, carried one of the tubs between them;
Genesis carried the heavy wringer with his right hand, and he had
fastened the other tub upon his back by means of a bit of rope which
passed over his shoulder; thus the tin boiler, being a lighter burden,
fell to William.

The cover would not stay in place, but continually fell off when he
essayed to carry the boiler by one of its handles, and he made shift
to manage the accursed thing in various ways--the only one proving
physically endurable being, unfortunately, the most grotesque. He
was forced to carry the cover in his left hand and to place his head
partially within the boiler itself, and to support it--tilted obliquely
to rest upon his shoulders--as a kind of monstrous tin cowl or helmet.
This had the advantage of somewhat concealing his face, though when
he leaned his head back, in order to obtain clearer vision of what was
before him, the boiler slid off and fell to the pavement with a noise
that nearly caused a runaway, and brought the hot-cheeked William much
derisory attention from a passing street-car. However, he presently
caught the knack of keeping it in position, and it fell no more.

Seen from the rear, William was unrecognizable--but interesting.
He appeared to be a walking clothes-boiler, armed with a shield and
connected, by means of a wash-tub, with a negro of informal ideas
concerning dress. In fact, the group was whimsical, and three young
people who turned in behind it, out of a cross-street, indulged
immediately in fits of inadequately suppressed laughter, though neither
Miss May Parcher nor Mr. Johnnie Watson even remotely suspected that the
legs beneath the clothes-boiler belonged to an acquaintance. And as