were shut into the bath-room, where they made as much splashing
and noise as a school of young whales at play.

"Nat had better sleep here, so that if his cough troubles him in the
night you can see that he takes a good draught of flax-seed tea,"
said Mrs. Bhaer, who was flying about like a distracted hen with a
large brood of lively ducklings.

Nursey approved the plan, finished Nat off with a flannel
night-gown, a drink of something warm and sweet, and then
tucked him into one of the three little beds standing in the room,
where he lay looking like a contented mummy and feeling that
nothing more in the way of luxury could be offered him.
Cleanliness in itself was a new and delightful sensation; flannel
gowns were unknown comforts in his world; sips of "good stuff"
soothed his cough as pleasantly as kind words did his lonely heart;
and the feeling that somebody cared for him made that plain room
seem a sort of heaven to the homeless child. It was like a cosy
dream; and he often shut his eyes to see if it would not vanish
when he opened them again. It was too pleasant to let him sleep,
and he could not have done so if he had tried, for in a few minutes
one of the peculiar institutions of Plumfield was revealed to his
astonished but appreciative eyes.

A momentary lull in the aquatic exercises was followed by the
sudden appearance of pillows flying in all directions, hurled by
white goblins, who came rioting out of their beds. The battle raged
in several rooms, all down the upper hall, and even surged at
intervals into the nursery, when some hard-pressed warrior took
refuge there. No one seemed to mind this explosion in the least; no