dance of the Trust he represented, Scipio's condition
would certainly be improved. But somehow his mental patronage
received a quiet set-back. The hut looked so different. There was a
wholesome cleanliness about it that was quite staggering. Sunny
remembered it as it was when he had last seen it under his regime, and
the contrast was quite startling. Scipio might be incapable of
organization, but he certainly could scour and scrub.

Sunny raked at his beard with his unclean finger-nails. Yes, Zip must
have spent hours of unremitting labor on the place since he had seen
it last.

However, he lost no time in carrying out his mission.

"Kind o' busy, Zip?" he greeted the little man pleasantly.

Scipio raised a pair of shadowed eyes from the inside of the
well-scoured fry-pan he was wiping.

"I'm mostly through fixin' these chores--for awhiles," he replied
quietly. Then he nodded in the direction of the children's voices.
"Guess I'm goin' to take the kiddies down to the creek to clean 'em.
They need cleanin' a heap."

Sunny nodded gravely. He was thinking of those things he had so
carefully written out.

"They sure do," he agreed. "Bath oncet a week. But not use a
hand-scrubber, though," he added, under a wave of memory. "Kids is
tender skinned," he explained.

"Pore little bits," the father murmured tenderly. Then he went on more
directly to his visitor. "But they do need washin'. It's kind o'
natural fer kids to fancy dirt. After that," he went on, his eyes
drifting over to a pile of dirty clothes stacked on a chair, "I'll
sure have to do a bit of washing." He set the frying-pan down beside
the stove and moved over to the clothes, picking up the smallest pair
of child's knickers imaginable. They were black with dirt, and he held
them up before Sunny's wondering eyes and smiled pathetically.
"Ridic'lous small," he said, with an odd twist of his pale lips. "Pore
little gal." Then his scanty eyebrows drew together perplexedly, and
that curious expression of helplessness that was his crept into his
eyes. "Them frills an' bits git me some," he said in a puzzled way.
"Y'see, I ain't never used an iron much, to speak of. It's kind of
awkward using an iron."

Sunny nodded. Somehow he wished he knew something about using an iron.
Birdie had said nothing about it.

"Guess you hot it on the stove," he hazarded, after a moment's
thought.

"Yes, I'd say you hot it," agreed Scipio. "It's after that."

"Yes." Sunny foun