"Well, it's time you learned. Come on."
Bobby learned how to manipulate hot water, soap, and a dish-rag. Also how difficult it is to remove some sorts of grease.
"Condemned!" pronounced Mr. Kincaid severely, returning him the frying pan.
But when the simple task was done, Bobby felt an unusual glow of competence and experience. He was really "camping out." A new ambition to learn came to him, an ambition to do his share and to understand other people's share. Naturally his mind turned first to accustomed things.
"Where's the wood pile?" he asked Mr. Kincaid. "Can't I fill the wood-box?"
"It's just behind the house," approved Mr. Kincaid.
Bobby turned the wooden "button" that fastened the door from the inside. At once it was snatched from his hand and flung open. A burst of wind rioted in, extinguished the candle, flared up the fire in the stove, and hurled a loose paper against the roof.
"Whew!" cried Mr. Kincaid, coming to Bobby's assistance; "she's blowing some! When you come back, just kick on the door, and I'll open it for you."
"CONDEMNED!" PRONOUNCED MR. KINCAID SEVERELY, RETURNING HIM THE FRYING-PAN