"Hand it over!" said Denis, advancing. "But promise not to come in!"
"I suppose you don't think you need me?"
"Most assuredly we don't. Do we, Ted?"
"N-no."
"I won't promise."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"As you will, my dear. Cold water's a lot fresher, anyway," and he seized a plate with a savage shake. Ted put up his hand and ruefully rubbed his head. Nell nearly dropped the kettle in her glee. He had used his greasy hand, and his smooth hair stuck up in front in three jaunty wisps. Denis turned and seized a tray-cloth, lying neatly folded on the table, and dabbed it into the water.
"Oh, you dirty boy!" She pommelled excitedly on the door, but was presented with two dignified backs, the dignity of Ted marred a good deal by his airy locks, of which he was blissfully unconscious. She watched the horrid smears they were chasing round the plates with the poor little tray-cloth, and succumbed suddenly.
"You may have the hot water! Oh, yes, unconditionally!"
Truth to tell, she hated the idea of washing the greasy plates, and was glad to get out of it so easily.