Nelly sighed,—a sort of fierce, impatient sigh,—and began busily seeking in every corner till she found a pin with which to fasten her card to the wall. Then she searched again till she found an old basin, which she filled with rain-water and carried out into the shed, where presently was heard a great splashing and rubbing. By-and-by Nelly called out, "Granny, where's the soap?"
"And what do you want with the soap, child?" asked the old woman.
"To wash myself."
"What ails the child this morning?" said Mrs. Ryan, in a tone of as much surprise as if such a use of soap had been utterly unknown to her experience. "You'll find it on the end of the shelf; if there is any; but don't you be wasting it. I'll may-be washing to-morrow."
By much searching, Nelly found a small and greasy remnant of soap, which she used to such good purpose that she presently appeared with face and hands perfectly white and clean.
Then came another inquiry—"Where's the comb, granny?"
Followed by the counter-question—"What do you want with it?"
"I want to comb my hair."
"You are wonderful nate this morning, seems to me," said Mrs. Ryan. "What ails you?"
"I like to be decent sometimes," said Nelly. "I felt ashamed this morning when the lady was speaking to me."