CHAPTER IV.
“Dippity dash, dippity dash,
Wash his face with a merry splash!
Polish it well with a towel fine,—
Oh, how his eyes and his cheeks will shine!
Dippity dash, dippity dash.”
Sunday morning’s sun peered long into the windows of the quaint house on Funny street; the milkmen,
“All dressed in their Sunday suits,”
completed their rounds, Grace Church chimes rang out “Jerusalem the Golden,” and the “Old Baptist” bell sent forth its loud, full tones, before the heavy eyelids of three little travellers had opened wide enough to take in any idea of their whereabouts.