"Don't know as we do," replied Poddie, dubiously. "But what does that mean?" added he, startled by the brazen clangor of a large bell that rung high above the noises a warning "Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding."
"Time's up!" shouted the keeper, almost as loud as his bell. Silence fell upon the gleeful throng instantly. With downcast faces and slow, reluctant feet the bathers commenced to crawl up the wet steps, tumble over the railings, and trailing little brooks of water behind them, sought the bath-rooms, whence they slowly emerged, some fairly well dressed, but the majority in rags and tatters.
"The boys is putty fair to-day, along o' you visitors, sir," said the keeper; "but we mostly has to hunt 'em out o' the dark corners—where they dart to as soon as the bell rings—with this rattan, or they'd stay in all the day."
"How about the girls—do they enjoy the privileges of these free baths?" inquired Uncle Fritz?
"Yes, sir, they does, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, an' a lively lot they is, too; the women keepers has their hands full."
No sooner had the first crowd of boys disappeared than pell-mell in rushed a tumultuous throng, pushing and jostling in spite of the shouting keepers.
Begrimed and perspiring, and panting with impatience to enjoy the blessing of the cooler element, it is the work of but a moment in the bath-rooms; the doors fly open, and down they plunge from steps and railings into the cool green depths.
The water splashes and dashes and foams, lashed by scores of active hands and feet, until the boys are fairly deafened by the roar.
"Gracious! you'd think they hadn't seen water in a year, wouldn't you, Dick?" said Poddie.
"Half o' them's repeaters," said the keeper, overhearing the remark.