The water flowed into the street pipe and then it flowed into the house pipe and then,—what do you think?—it went right up that pipe between the walls of the house! For you see even the top of that dirty little boy’s house isn’t nearly as high as the reservoir on the hill where the water started and the water can run up just as high as it has run down.
In the bath-room was the dirty little boy. His face was dirty, his hands were dirty, his feet were dirty and his knees—oh! his knees were very, very dirty. This very dirty little boy went over to the faucet and slowly turned it. Out came the water splashing, and crashing and dashing.
“My! but I need a bath tonight,” said the dirty little boy as he heard the water splashing in the tub. The water was still the singing water that had sung all the way from the far-away hills. It had sung a bubbling song when it gurgled up as a spring; it had sung a tinkling song as it rippled down hill as a brook; it had crooned a flowing song when it bore the talking boats; it had muttered and throbbed and sung to itself as it ran through the big, big pipe. Now as it splashed into the dirty little boy’s tub it laughed and sang this last song:
“I run from the hill,—down, down, down,
Under the streets of the town, town, town,
Then in the pipe, up, up, up,
I tumble right into your tub, tub, tub.”
And the dirty little boy laughed and jumped into the Singing Water!
THE CHILDREN’S NEW DRESSES
An old pattern with new content. The steps in the process were originally dug out by a child of six through his own questions.