“Ye-es,” replied the bewildered man a little helplessly.
“Well,” continued the smiling girl, “then there’s their manners an’ things.”
Toby nodded vaguely.
“You’ll need to give ’em bed at sundown,” Birdie hurried on. “An’ up at sunrise. Clothes needs washin’ at least once a month––with soap. See they says their prayers, an’ bath ’em once a week reg’lar––with soap. But do it Sundays. An’ after that give ’em a Bible talk for an hour. Then I dessay they’ll need physic once a week––best give it Saturday nights. Don’t fix ’em that way same as a horse, their stummicks ain’t made of leather. You got all that?”
Toby gave a bewildered nod.
“How ’bout when they’re sick?” he asked.
“Sick? Why, see they don’t muss their clothes,” Birdie answered cheerfully. “Guess that’s put you wise to most everything.”
“Sure.” Toby slid from the table, feeling dazed. Nor had he the courage to ask any more questions. He was trying hard to fix the salient points of the information in his whirling brain, but all he could remember was that all washing must be done with soap, and the children must have bones to keep their teeth right. He clung to these things desperately, and felt that he must get away quickly before they, too, should slip through the sieve of his memory.
“Guess I’ll git along an’––an’ see to things,” he murmured vaguely, without glancing in Birdie’s direction. “You said beef bones?” he added, passing a hand perplexedly across his forehead.
“Sure,” smiled the girl.