ghost this very minute."

"That's a good one," laughed Bumper. "Pale as a ghost! Why, I'm whiter
than snow all the time. How could I get paler?"

Mr. Sewer Rat gnashed his teeth again, and swished his long tail. He was
plainly angry and discomfitted. So he retorted maliciously:

"You're not white at all. You're so dirty your own mother wouldn't know
you. White! Oh! Ho! Ho! I wish you could see yourself."

Bumper did see himself, or, at least, a part of himself. Both front paws
were muddy; his long ears were covered with iron rust; his fat cheeks were
dusty and cobwebby, and to the ends of his whiskers clung specks of dirt.
In his progress through the drain-pipe he had accumulated sufficient dirt
to change his color from pure white to a rusty gray.

"I can soon clean myself," he remarked, "and the little girl with the red
hair will help me. Is that the hole that leads back to the garden?"

The Sewer Rat suddenly blinked his wicked little eyes. "Yes," he replied,
"if you know the right turns to take. If you don't you'll get lost, and
never find your way out."

"I think I know my way back," said Bumper, hesitatingly. He hated to ask
favors of the Sewer Rat, but when the latter volunteered information he
was grateful for it.

"You'll find a better way back to the garden by following the abandoned
sewer you're standing in. Keep straight on to the end. It's much better