But the Chelton folks were not afraid—they might have halted at the ironing possibility, but nothing in the way of washing had any terrors for the motor girls and their friends.
“Oh, my!” exclaimed Belle. “I could never go in that!”
“Why?” demanded Walter. “It looks perfectly tempting. Smell that soap suds!” A whiff came out of the building to them.
“And look at the blueing,” cried Cora, pointing to a mass of blue water flowing from a pipe outside the structure. “If we never had the ‘blues’ we will have them now—all ready-made.”
“If never you’ve been blue, prepare to be blue now,” quoted Ed, with semi-tragic effect.
“Come along! Come right along!” shouted the “barker,” or man who was booming the attraction. “This way for the greatest sensation outside of flying! Step this way—everybody! You pays your money and you gets a good wash! Satisfaction guaranteed. The servant problem solved. Here you are, young ladies and gentlemen—right this way!” and he looked at our friends in a humorous manner.
“Hear that?” called Jack. “He has us spotted, all right. He knows we need it, maybe. I’m going in first.”
“That’s the way to talk,” commented the barker. “You’ll never regret it, my friend. Step this way to the ticket office. Remember, ladies and gentlemen,” he went on, in louder tones, “this is the only human washing machine on the beach. There are washing machines run by human beings but this is absolutely and without doubt the only self-regulated, double acting, six cylinder, four speeds forward and reverse machine, that washes human beings in the short space of ten minutes—one sixth of an hour—six hundred seconds, and I say that without fear of successful contradiction. This way—everybody!”
“Here goes,” went on Jack, as he purchased a number of tickets from a roll unwound by a woman in a little cage of an office. “I’ll try it first, and if I survive the bleaching process the rest of you can come in.”
“Oh!” cried Bess. “I’ll never, never do it!”