of sun, with the wide frill of her cap for
rays.

"This is Nursey Hummel, and she will give you a nice bath, and cut your
hair, and make you all 'comfy,' as Rob says. That's the bath-room in
there; and on Saturday nights we scrub all the little lads first, and
pack them away in bed before the big ones get through singing. Now then,
Rob, in with you."

As she talked, Mrs. Bhaer had whipped off Rob's clothes and popped him
into a long bath-tub in the little room opening into the nursery.

There were two tubs, besides foot-baths, basins, douche-pipes, and all
manner of contrivances for cleanliness. Nat was soon luxuriating in the
other bath; and while simmering there, he watched the performances of
the two women, who scrubbed, clean night-gowned, and bundled into bed
four or five small boys, who, of course, cut up all sorts of capers
during the operation, and kept every one in a gale of merriment till
they were extinguished in their beds.

By the time Nat was washed and done up in a blanket by the fire, while
Nursey cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived and 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 a