"Do it for me this once, there's a dear kind creature," cried Martha, coaxingly, who wanted to establish a precedent and get the brute by degrees off her own hands. "I am so tired with my long journey."
"Tired wi' riding all night in a grand coach," laughed Polly, "a' only wish a' had sich a chance."
"Will you wash Jewel for me, there's a good girl?"
"No, a' won't," cried Polly, standing on her dignity. "Sich jobs belong to Lunnon servants. Us country folk be above stooping to sich dirty work. A' wud put soap inter's eyes, 'an choak um', by letting the water get down un's throat."
"Get me some warm water then, an' a piece of soap," said Martha sulkily.
"Yer must get it yersel, for a' must hurry up with the taters."
The crafty Martha found for once, the simple country girl had got the master of her.
"Never mind," thought she; "I will make her wash him yet."
When Polly returned to the kitchen, she found her London friend on her knees beside the keeler, in which she generally washed her dishes, cleansing the dust from Jewel's woolly coat. The dog looked a pitiful spectacle shivering in the water, his hair out of curl and clinging to his pink skin.
"What an objeckt he do look," said Polly. "A' never seed any think so ridiculus. Why do'ant yer let the poor beast alone?"