"It would be just as well to do it the right way," persisted Jean. She went over to the washstand, procured a mug half full of water into which she poured some grains of the oxalic acid, and brought it to Jack who plunged her fingers in it and sat comfortably soaking them while Jean attended to the carpet.
They were absorbed in this occupation when Mary Lee came in. "What are you two doing?" she asked.
"Why, Jack spilled some ink and we are getting it all out," replied Jean.
"I should think you were," said Mary Lee, viewing the basin of discolored water. "What is the matter with your hands, Jack? Have you burned them?"
"No, I am soaking off the ink with hossally-assy that Unc' Landy gave me."
"Not hossally, goosey; it's oxalic."
"Oh, then it's oxes and mules, Jean," she said in an undertone to her twin sister.
"It is a good thing mother made you wear that old frock till the very last minute," remarked Mary Lee, opening a closet door and running her eye over the contents. "I believe we have left nothing here that we shall want. You children had better hurry up; Nan wants us to form a procession to make the good-byes. We're going right away." She came and stood near her little sisters. "I don't believe you can get any more out, Jean; it's an old faded carpet, anyhow, and very likely we shall have a new one when we get back. I wouldn't bother over it. Come on down. Time is flying and we must say the good-byes."
Thus admonished the twins arose from the floor, Jack carefully examining her fingers. "They're not crite so bad," said Jean.
"I think they're much better," declared Jack with conviction. "When they're dry they will do very well."