Perkins seized the
tin basin, dipped some water from the rain barrel standing near, and,
setting it down before Cameron, said:
"Here, pile in, Scotty. Do they wash in your country?"
"Yes," replied Cameron, "they are rather strong on that," wondering at
the same time how the operation could be performed successfully with
such a moderate supply of water. After using a second and third supply,
however, he turned, with hands and face dripping, and looked about for a
towel. Perkins handed him a long roller towel, black with dirt and
stiff with grease. Had his life depended upon it Cameron could not have
avoided a shuddering hesitation as he took the filthy cloth preparatory
to applying it to his face.
"'Twon't hurt you," laughed Perkins. "Wash day ain't till next week, you
know, and this is only Wednesday." Suddenly the towel was snatched from
Cameron's hands.
"Gimme that towel!" It was the girl, with face aflame and eyes emitting
blue fire. "Here; Mr. Cameron, take this," she said.
"Great Jerusalem, Mandy! You ain't goin' to bring on a clean towel the
middle of the week?" said Perkins in mock dismay. "Guess it's for Mr.
Cameron," he continued with another laugh.
"We give clean towels to them that knows how to use 'em," said Mandy,
whisking wrathfully into the house.
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