In the midst of this jolly frolic the clock announced that it was the tenth hour of the day.
“Hear that, young man?” said the father. “That means that we must cut out this racket and get down to business. Your paternal ancestor is chief cook and general manager to-day and has several little chores to do yet. We will get Toodles’ breakfast first, then wash and dress him afterwards so that he won’t get mussed up when he eats.
“Mamma don’t do that way, but we can give mamma a few pointers on keeping a baby clean, can’t we, Toodles?”
And, putting the child in his high-chair, Mr. Telfer pinned a tea towel around the little neck for a bib, took a bowl and went to the cellar for some new milk.
While Toodles was eating breakfast his father washed the prunes and put them on to stew, set the pie in the oven and started to build the fire, but he was interrupted by an emphatic voice saying, “Papa, down; papa, down.”
“All right, young man, I’ll attend to your case directly,” said Jack, touching a match to the kindling. “Guess I’ll wash and dress you and have you off my hands.”
And, taking a wash-pan of tepid water, with soap, comb, rag, towel and Toodles, he went into the sitting-room where it was cool and pleasant. The baby’s clean clothes were lying upon a chair, where his mamma had placed them the night before. Then what a time they had. Toodles would catch the wash rag in his teeth and papa would shake it and growl till the little mouth would have to let loose to scream with the agonizing fun.
Then came the tangled curls, and it took a wonderful story about a doggie that would say “Bow, wow,” and a little horsie that Toodles could ride and a chicky that went “Peep, peep, peep,” and several other mental concoctions to keep the baby quiet until the ringlets were in order.
When the clean coaties were on and two little arms hugged papa tight, Jack Telfer thought, “Jennie calls this work.”