Little black streams were trickling down the apron on to the dress. Grace pulled Susy to the washing-stand, and Prudy thought she meant to lift her into it, and tried to help.
"I guess this honey soap will take it out," said Susy; but with all their washing and rinsing they could not make black white any more than the poor negro who scoured his face.
"Stop a minute!" cried Grace. "Soap makes it worse—ma puts on milk."
"O dear! I wish we had some," said Susy; "how can we get it?"
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Grace; "we'll send Prudy down stairs to Bridget, to ask for some milk to drink."
"I like milk and water the best," said Prudy, "with sugar in."
"Well, get that," said Grace, "it's just as good; and come right back with it, and don't tell about the ink."
Aunt Martha and Bridget were taking up the dinner when Prudy went down into the kitchen, calling out,—
"O, Bridget, may I have some white tea?"
"White tay!" said Bridget; "and what may that be now?"