Jimmy gave himself a vigorous wash, and then said to Dick:
"Now it's your turn."
Dick appeared to hesitate.
"What's de matter?" asked Jimmy. "It ain't very cold. De cook fergot t' make de fire in de range last night, an' dere ain't no hot water. I'll bounce her if she does it ag'in."
"Why, there isn't any—any towel," said Dick.
"Towel? Well, I guess nixy. Pocket hankcheff's good 'nuff fer me. If ye ain't got none ye kin take mine. It's pretty clean."
"No, thank you, I have a handkerchief."
In spite of the fact that Dick had evidently been used to certain luxuries, he made the best of the improvised bathroom. He washed his face and hands, drying them on a handkerchief of fine quality, at the sight of which Jimmy's eyes opened wider than ever.
"He sure is some rich guy," he said to himself. "Dere's somethin' queer about dis. But I'll git t' de bottom of it, er me name ain't Jimmy Small."
"Where's yer hat?" asked Jimmy of Dick when the washing operations were over.