cups. Gay had three cookies, Timothy two, and Rags one; but there was no
statute of limitations placed on the water; every one had as much as he
could drink.

The little matter of toilets came next. Timothy took the dingy rag which
did duty for a handkerchief, and, calling the pump again into
requisition, scrubbed Gay's face and hands tenderly, but firmly. Her
clothes were then all smoothed down tidily, but the clean apron was kept
for the eventful moment when her future mother should first be allowed
to behold the form of her adopted child.

The comb was then brought out, and her mop of red-gold hair was assisted
to fall in wet spirals all over her lovely head, which always "wiggled"
too much for any more formal style of hair-dressing. Her Sunday hat
being tied on, as the crowning glory, this lucky little princess, this
child of Fortune, so inestimably rich in her own opinion, this daughter
of the gods, I say, was returned to the basket, where she endeavored to
keep quiet until the next piece of delightful unexpectedness should rise
from fairy-land upon her excited gaze.

Timothy and Rags now went to the pump, and Rags was held under the
spout. This was a new and bitter experience, and he wished for a few
brief moments that he had never joined the noble army of deserters, but
had stayed where dirt was fashionable. Being released, the sense of
abnormal cleanliness mounted to his brain, and he tore breathlessly
round in a circle seventy-seven times without stopping. But this only
dried his hair and amused Gay, who was beginning to find the basket
confining, and who clamored for "Timfy" to take her to "yide."

Timothy attended to himself last, as usual. He put his own head under