“And Dot and Twaddles may send something, too,” she had said, when the twins as usual declared that they never had any of the fun because they were too young to go to school. “Meg and Bobby will take your thank-offering to school for you, twinnies.”
It was warm and dry in the cellar and the electric light made it bright even though it was already dark outside at half-past four that November afternoon. The glowing heater occupied one end of the cemented room and the laundry tubs the other. In between were the vegetable and fruit bins and closets where food that would keep through the winter had been stored.
“Norah says we don’t use soap on the potatoes,” reported Meg to Dot. “Maybe we shouldn’t have hot water, either.”
“Course we need hot water,” insisted Dot, who was already splashed from head to foot. “Hot water is the only way to get ’em clean.”
“There’s Sam—we’ll ask him,” said Bobby as someone opened the door of the cellar and came in, bringing a blast of cold, fresh air.
“Well, you look happy,” smiled Sam Layton, who ran the car and mowed the lawn in summer and took care of the heater in winter for the Blossom family. “What mischief are you into now?”
“Sam, don’t you wash turnips and things like that in hot water?” demanded Dot earnestly.
“So that’s it,” cried Sam. “I knew, soon as I saw the cloud of steam from the laundry tubs, that something was going on. Are you counting on washing vegetables in Norah’s pet tubs and in that boiling hot water?”
“They’re for the poor folks,” explained Bobby, polishing an apple by the simple method of rubbing it on his stocking. “We have to take ’em to school tomorrow and we want them to be clean.”
“Very nice and quite correct,” approved Sam seriously. “But somehow it doesn’t fit in with my sanitary ideas to wash vegetables where the clothes are done or polish apples on stockings, Bobby.”