clean clothes to put on him, if he is alive after I get through with
him," thought Molly, foreseeing a stormy passage for the boy, who
hated a bath as much as some people hate a trip across the
Atlantic.

Up she went, and finding the fire out felt discouraged, thought she
would rest a little more, so retired under the blankets to read one
of the Christmas books. The dinner-bell rang while she was still
wandering happily in "Nelly's Silver Mine," and she ran down to
find that Boo had laid out a railroad all across her neat room, using
bits of coal for sleepers and books for rails, over which he was
dragging the yellow sled laden with a dismayed kitten, the tailless
dog, and the remains of the sausage, evidently on its way to the
tomb, for Boo took bites at it now and then, no other lunch being
offered him.

"Oh dear! why can't boys play without making such a mess,"
sighed Molly, picking up the feathers from the duster with which
Boo had been trying to make a "cocky-doo" of the hapless dog. "I'll
wash him right after dinner, and that will keep him out of mischief
for a while," she thought, as the young engineer unsuspiciously
proceeded to ornament his already crocky countenance with
squash, cranberry sauce, and gravy, till he looked more like a Fiji
chief in full war-paint than a Christian boy.

"I want two pails of hot water, please, Miss Bat, and the big tub,"
said Molly, as the ancient handmaid emptied her fourth cup of tea,
for she dined with the family, and enjoyed her own good cooking
in its prime.