en
one must scour and scrub and rub. But, if you are not used to soap----"

She lifted that terrible pump handle again.

"I believe this will be about enough," Walter blubbered. His mouth
was so full of water that again Mrs. Claus did not understand him.

"Green soap is good for corns, and for rheumatism." She was pumping
away for dear life.

Walter finally succeeded in rescuing himself and the bench from
that destructive stream of water. He was now able to make his cries
for mercy understood; but he was not yet able to get up. Besides,
the good woman had hung his clothes out of his reach, and he was
ashamed. He remained sitting.

"Do you want anything else?" inquired the water nymph.

"No, no, no!" he answered quickly. She was already lifting the
pump-handle again. "But----"

The simple, innocent woman did not understand; and, when he continued
to sit there like a helpless lump of misery, she asked:

"Do you have a pain anywhere?"

"No, I haven't any pains."

"Are you tired?"

He was still tired, and said so.

"And I woke you up! I'll tell you what, you must go to sleep and take
a good nap."

She began drying him off, as if that were a usual thing in her day's
work. Then she rolled him up in a sheet and carried him off like a sack
of clothes. He could not but notice the way she laid him down. Then
she covered him warmly.

"Straighten out your legs, my boy."

Walter did as she said, and experienced an indescribable feeling of
comfort. And when she punched him and patted him and tucked him in,
and said: "Poor child, you can sleep good now. This is Femke's bed,
you know----" then he was more than comfortable; he was delighted.

When he awakened at about four o'clock in the afternoon he heard
whispering voices. He listened, at first to find out where he was,
and then to understand what was being said.

It seemed as if there were a plot further to confuse Sietske with
Femke in his mind.

"Yes, Sietske; but what does he mean by lying out like that? If I
were his mother----"

The answer was:

"Cousin, I don't suppose his mother knows about it. Hermann did the
same thing once. That's the way boys are."

Oho! Sietske was there; and Mrs. Claus was her cousin, and her name
was Sietske too! And that girl--there in Mrs. Goremest's place?

His thoughts became more and more confused; though physically he
felt well.

How would it do, he thought, to tear a little piece out of the sheet,
so as to be able