"My dear old wreck," said Tuppy firmly, "with all the admirable sentiments you have so feelingly enunciated, I am in complete agreement. More particularly with 'live an' let live.' Heaven knows," he protested, "I am no blatant reformer who to demonstrate his absurd theories, would change the smooth course of my fellows lives. But a bath, ole feller—a real water bath! None of your one leg in, an' one leg out, but a proper all-in-run-or-not wash up."
So Hank and Tuppy went off to prepare it, carefully laying thin parings of soap at the bottom.
In solemn state they escorted him to the bath-room door.
They waited outside talking encouragingly, till a mighty splashing silenced instructions.
"You're splashin' with your hands," warned Tuppy, "get into it."
They heard a groan and a gentle plash as Olejoe took the water gingerly.
Then a wild yell as his foot slipped on the soapy bottom and a splash louder than all.
"Good," said Tuppy with satisfaction.
It was nine o'clock that night before they fixed Olejoe in his new kit.
The pink silk stockings pleased him; the red plush knickers he regarded dubiously; the gold laced scarlet coat he did not like at all. The gold aiguillettes he jibbed at.