“The tub isn’t half full, dive me some more,” said the young washerwoman, tucking her sleeves up to her shoulders, tying her handkerchief round her head, and turning up the front of her dress to look business-like.
“[I tell you] it’s only a small wash this week,” Phyl said.
“I know,” said Weenie, pouting, “you fink I won’t get your old clothes clean.”
Without a doubt they did think so.
“Wash those first,” Dolly said; “p’waps we’ll find some more soon.”
Weenie gathered up the things indicated, and one other thing, and went off to the end of the room to the window-seat that was used as a laundry.
She dragged both the tubs with her, and insisted upon being given possession of the mangle. When they demurred she looked at them reproachfully.
“I fought you promised mummie on Sunday that you would be good to me,” she said.
So they sighed and gave it up to her—even tried to dole out the necessary stores with a show of cheerfulness—the pat of soap, the microscopic blue-bag, the soda, starch, and infinitesimal pegs. Then they fell down to their book again. The Prince of Persia was making his first visit to the palace of Schemselnihar, and how those children revelled in the gorgeous [90] ]colouring of the scene! The unstinted wealth of adjectives acted like intoxicants to their senses. They were not lying down face downwards on a hearth-rug in England; they were far away in that brilliant East, in a noble saloon the dome of which was supported by a hundred pillars of marble white as alabaster. The bases and chapiters of the pillars were adorned with four-footed beasts and birds of different sorts, gilded. In every space between the columns was a little alcove adorned in the same manner, and great vessels of china, crystal, jet, porphyry, agate, and other precious materials garnished with gold and jewels. The windows looked into the most delicious garden. Ten black women came towards them, carrying with much difficulty a throne of massy silver, curiously wrought; then twenty handsome ladies richly appareled alike, and playing on instruments. Lastly Schemselnihar herself, easily distinguished from the rest by her majestic air, as well as by a sort of mantle of a very fine stuff of gold and sky-blue, fastened to her shoulders over her other apparel, which was the most magnificent that could be imagined. It was of purple. . . .
“Ugh!” said the voice of the distant washerwoman, “ah, ugh!” There was a sound of the spilling of much water, and the falling of something.