"I think I'll give you a bath," said Midget to the fishes, laughing at the absurdity of the idea. But as she stood watching them, she observed the green mossy slime that covered the stones and shells at the bottom of the aquarium, and it occurred to her that it would be a good idea to clean them.
"There's a small scrubbing-brush in the bathroom," she said to herself, "and I can scrub them clean, and put in fresh water, and Mrs. Spencer will be so surprised and pleased."
She was about to bring a bowl of water from the bathroom to put the stones in while she scrubbed them, but she thought since there was already water in the glass, she might as well use that, and then get clean water for the fishes afterward.
"But I don't believe they'll like the soap," she thought, as, scrub-brush in hand, she was about to dip the soap in the water. "So I'll lay them aside while I scrub."
Marjorie had never had any goldfish, and knew nothing about them, so with no thought save to handle them gently, she took them out of the water, and laid them on the table in the sunlight.
She caught them by the simple process of using her handkerchief as a drag-net, and with great care, laid them softly down on the felt table-cover.
"There, fishies," she said, "don't take to your heels and run away. I'll soon clean up these dirty old stones and shells, then I'll give you nice fresh water, and put you back home again."
The stones and shells did look better, according to Midget's way of thinking, after she had vigorously scrubbed the moss from them. They shone glistening, and white, and she put them back in the aquarium and filled it with clean water, and then went for the fish.
"Ah, taking a nap, are you?" she said, as the four lay quiet on the table. But when she carefully put them back in the water, and they didn't wriggle or squirm a bit, she knew at once they were dead.
"You horrid things!" cried Midget, "what did you go and die for, just when I was fixing up your cage so nice? You're not really dead, are you? Wake up!"