It was Jimmy who conceived the exquisite idea of dipping his brush in
the bucket and sprinkling William with water. A scrubbing-brush is in
many ways almost as good as a hose. Each had a pail of ammunition.
Each had a good-sized brush. During the next few minutes they
experienced purest joy. Then William heard threatening movements
above, and decided hastily that the battle must cease.

"Backstairs," he said shortly. "Come on."

Marking their track by a running stream of water, they crept up the
backstairs.

But two small boys soaked to the skin could not disclaim all
knowledge of a flooded hall.

William was calm and collected when confronted with a distracted
mother.

"We was tryin' to clean up," he said. "We found all snail marks an' we
was tryin' to clean up. We was tryin' to help. You said so last night,
you know, when you was talkin' to me. You said to _help_. Well, I
thought it was helpin' to try an' clean up. You can't clean up with
water an' not get wet--not if you do it prop'ly. You said to try an'
make Christmas Day happy for other folks and then I'd be happy. Well,
I don't know as I'm very happy," he said, bitterly, "but I've been
workin' hard enough since early this mornin'. I've been workin'," he
went on pathetically. His eye wandered to the notice on his wall.
"I've been _busy_ all right, but it doesn't make me _happy_--not jus'
now," he added, with memories of the rapture of the fight. That
certainly must be repeated some time. Buckets of water and