“I don’t want to stay, sah,” pleaded Brick, earnestly. “Water just pisons me. O, let me go back to River Street, me an’ Bylow,” and he gazed helplessly at the dog, who had gone to the radiator and was lying calmly beside it.
“It’s for your good,” said Titus, earnestly. “Don’t you want to earn money and have a bank book?”
“Money, sah?” said Brick, eagerly.
“Yes, lots of it—nice clean, rustling greenbacks. But you’ve got to work for it, my son. Hello! there they are!”
Dallas and Charlie, with a great laughing and thumping, were dragging the bathtub upstairs.
When the door was opened Charlie stuck in his head. “Thought I’d come, too—sounded as if there was going to be some fun.”
“No, you don’t,” said Titus to Brick, who on seeing the door open had tried to make a dash for liberty. Then he addressed the other boys. “Shut that door, quick. I don’t want this frog to jump. Now, look sharp—Roblee will soon be home, and I want this over before he comes.”
“Where is he?” inquired Dallas.
“Had to take the horses to the blacksmith. I say, fellows, put that tub here in the middle of the room. Now rush downstairs to the harness room and get a couple of pails. Then fill them at the hot water faucet and bring them up here.”
Brick, with rolling eyes, watched the boys scuttling to and fro.