"Isn't he too sweet?" cried that lady. "He doesn't look a bit dirty, either. I'm going to take him right over home and give him something to eat. I expect he's hungry."
After she had gone, Miss Sarah closed the bag and carried it a while and dumped it down again. Jazbury heard her call, "Bring me a basin of water out in the shed, Hannah, and that tar soap from up in the bathroom closet."
He spit and mewed and fought, but she held him there
Jazbury did not know what the words meant, but they frightened him.
A little later the bag was untied again and turned upside down, and Jazbury was shaken out of it. Trembling and frightened, he looked about him. He was in a shed. Miss Sarah was there, and another woman with a checked apron on.
"Poor little thing! He looks scared to death," said the woman with the checked apron.
"I know," said Miss Sarah. "I just hate to wash him, but I can't take him into the house till he's clean."
Then a terrible thing happened to Jazbury. Miss Sarah stooped and picked him up, and before he could catch his breath she had put him in a basin of water. He spit and mewed and fought, but she held him there. She splashed water over him, and she rubbed him with soap. She rubbed the soapsuds in around his ears, and over his forehead, and even down his little black nose. She soaped his legs and his body and his tail. Then she washed the soapsuds off. Last of all, she wrapped him in a towel and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed him.
By that time Jazbury was too miserable to fight. He only shivered and shook and mewed pitifully now and then.