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"
Phil
and
I
can
wash
them
,
"
said
Bobbie
,
"
if
you
'll
iron
them
,
Mother
.
"
Washing
is
rather
fun
.
I
wonder
whether
you
've
ever
done
it
?
This
particular
washing
took
place
in
the
back
kitchen
,
which
had
a
stone
floor
and
a
very
big
stone
sink
under
its
window
.
"
Let
's
put
the
bath
on
the
sink
,
"
said
Phyllis
;
"
then
we
can
pretend
we
're
out-of-doors
washerwomen
like
Mother
saw
in
France
.
"
"
But
they
were
washing
in
the
cold
river
,
"
said
Peter
,
his
hands
in
his
pockets
,
"
not
in
hot
water
.
"
"
This
is
a
HOT
river
,
then
,
"
said
Phyllis
;
"
lend
a
hand
with
the
bath
,
there
's
a
dear
.
"
"
I
should
like
to
see
a
deer
lending
a
hand
,
"
said
Peter
,
but
he
lent
his
.
"
Now
to
rub
and
scrub
and
scrub
and
rub
,
"
said
Phyllis
,
hopping
joyously
about
as
Bobbie
carefully
carried
the
heavy
kettle
from
the
kitchen
fire
.
"
Oh
,
no
!
"
said
Bobbie
,
greatly
shocked
;
"
you
do
n't
rub
muslin
.
You
put
the
boiled
soap
in
the
hot
water
and
make
it
all
frothy-lathery
--
and
then
you
shake
the
muslin
and
squeeze
it
,
ever
so
gently
,
and
all
the
dirt
comes
out
.
It
's
only
clumsy
things
like
tablecloths
and
sheets
that
have
to
be
rubbed
.
"
The
lilac
and
the
Gloire
de
Dijon
roses
outside
the
window
swayed
in
the
soft
breeze
.
