Spud shook his head.
“Not me. Take her outside. I pull no handles. We wash in the creek like always—what washing we do, which aint much; and I might add that your little friend here does his own or it don’t get done, and that’s that.”
Apparently that was that. Dog, mustering a grin, set the machine outside, under the leanto-porch, and suggested that they all turn in.
“Where?” asked Percival in a dead voice.
Dog told him, upstairs, in a fine comfortable bunk with a buffalo robe to throw over him if it got cold. Percival still sat on the bench which he had found upon entering the house.
“I want three hundred dollars,” he said suddenly. “I must have three hundred dollars. You let me have three hundred dollars and take me back to where I can get a train for New York. Mother’ll pay you back.”
Dog shook his head.
“You get no three hundred dollars from me. Your mother gave me positive instructions. You’ll like it fine here after you get used to it, and you’ll get strong and hearty. Why, in a month, you wont want to go back, not never.”
“I want to go back now,” whined Percival.
“Aw shut up,” said Ducky suddenly. “You make me sick. It’s going to be hard enough on us to have you around here at best, and if you’re going to yowl around all the time, it’ll be a lot worse. Get up to bed and sleep off your grouch.”