And forthwith he set the wash-bowl ready and filled it with warm water. Then, after some consideration and trouble, having discovered a rag which had been used in the household “wash-up,” and a piece of soap, he prepared to start on little Vada. But she instantly protested.
“You first, Mister Fairy,” she said cheerfully. “My poppa allus washes first. Then we has his water.”
“’Ess,” agreed Jamie.
And, to his disgust, Sunny was forced to an unwilling ablution, which, by strategy, he had hoped to escape. However, the ordeal was manfully borne, and his reward was quite worth his trouble. Vada promptly exclaimed when she saw his face emerge from the dirty towel, shining with grease off the house-flannel.
“You’se a fairy, sure,” she cried, clapping her hands and dancing about gleefully. “On’y fairies can change theirselves. You’se a pretty, pretty man––now. Now, Jamie dear. You next,” she added, with feminine assurance. And with clumsy but willing enough hands Sunny Oak contrived to cleanse his charges.
By the time his task was accomplished perfect good-will reigned all round, and the climax was reached when the yellow pup returned of its own accord, and was promptly hugged to Jamie’s affectionate little bosom.
The next thing was to prepare the children’s supper. This was a far more serious matter for the loafer. But he finally achieved it, having learnt, by the process of cross-questioning the girl, what was usual and therefore expected. However, it was not without some difficulty that he succeeded in providing an adequate meal, which consisted of bread and milk, with bread and molasses as a sort of dessert. For himself, he was forced to fare off a tin of lobster and tea. Still, his difficulties were not of much consequence so long as the children were satisfied. And any bother to himself was his own fault, in having relied for a moment on Sandy Joyce’s ideas of a menu.
Supper over and the table cleared, he decided on further catechizing little Vada on points that still were a mystery to him. So, with Jamie busy on the floor endeavoring to solve the mystery of the pup’s wagging tail, he lit his pipe and took Vada on his knee. He endeavored to recall incidents of his own childhood; to remember something of his own early routine. But somehow nothing was very clear.
He had washed the children and given them food. Those things seemed to him to be perfectly sound. Well, what next? It was a little difficult. He glanced at the sun. Surely bed would be quite in order. Bed––ah, yes, that was a happy thought. He remembered now, when he was young he always used to get himself into trouble purposely so they would send him to bed. But with this thought came the regretful recollection that his predilection for bed was quickly discovered, and his further penalties took the form of the buckle end of his father’s waist-belt. However, he put the proposition with much tact.
“Say, kiddies,” he began, “how soon does your momma put you to bed?”