"Only half full, honey. I'd slip out myself to the pump, only I'm afraid of shocking Eliza with my wrapper!"
"I won't be gone a minute, Aunt Marjie!"
She took the pitcher, extended by means of a plump bare arm, and sped off with it.
"Alf," said Mrs. Needham, "I forgot to tell Eliza the pitcher would have to be filled every day."
"I suspect Marjory is a bit wasteful of water," he observed.
Here at the Point there was water, water everywhere; yet the Needhams employed far less of the fluid in their daily toilets than they did in the town. This is perhaps not infrequently the case at summer resorts of the more primitive kind, where one attains the frugal attitude generally. Then, too, having to go out to a pump for water alters its preciousness. Besides, as all the Needhams would argue: "We go in bathing so often." So the pitchers weren't refilled every day. They were generally refilled about two or three times a week. Miss Whitcom's pitcher, however, would have to be put in a class by itself. That was only too clear.
The Rev. Needham tied his cravat before the dresser glass. A few tiny drops of perspiration stood out on his forehead. "Yes," he sighed, "it does upset things some."
"What say, Alf?" asked Anna, who was bending over an ancient trunk in which clean linen was kept.
"I say, Eliza will just have to get used to filling her pitcher every morning."
"I guess so," agreed Mrs. Needham, straightening, her face flushed.