"I think you must be clean," he remarked dryly, as he opened the waste-pipe, "or at least you will be after a few more ducks."
"Yes, Master, to see her."
He showed the boy how to wash out the tub which the little fellow did with a will.
"Now, then, to bed with you, and we'll have an early breakfast, for we have a busy day to-morrow. Good-night."
Pete ambled away to the garage so happy that he still felt himself in a dream. To see his goddess, and never to go back to Rufus Carder! Those two facts chased each other around a rosy circle in his brain until he fell asleep.
When Ben Barry came out of his room the next morning he found Pete squatting outside his door. He regarded the broken, earth-stained shoes and the ragged coat and trousers, which if they had ever been of a distinct color were of none now, and the thick mop of hair. The eyes raised to his met a gay smile.
"Hello, there," said Ben. "Did you think I might get away?"
The dwarf rose. "I—I didn't—didn't know how much—much was a dream," he stammered.
"I hope you had a real breakfast," said Ben.
The dwarf smiled. It was a dreary, unaccustomed sort of crack in his weather-beaten face. "I had coffee, too," he replied in an awestruck tone.