"Strip! Scrub!" commanded Aszszony Semeyer. "Scrub till you are clean from head to foot, then dry yourself, and I will bring you some clothes. You will never see these again." She picked up a brass tongs from the huge fireplace and with them carried the boy's rags out of the room, her nose fairly curling at the corners with disgust. Banda Bela did his best. The water was cold, for Hungarians enjoy cold baths, and at the first plunge his teeth chattered. But after a while he rather enjoyed it and scrubbed himself till his dark skin glowed freshly, in spots, it is true, yet he thought it quite wonderful. Not so Aszszony Semeyer. She entered the kitchen, red and flushed with her labours in scouring Marushka. "You are not clean, no! I will show you--" and she caught up a scrubbing brush. Banda Bela gasped. He would not cry. He was too big a boy for that, but he felt as if he were being ironed with a red-hot iron. Arms, legs, and back,--all were attacked so fiercely that he wondered if there would be any skin left. Half an hour she worked, then wiped him dry and said: "Now you look like a tame Christian! You are not really clean, it will take many scrubbings to make you that--and more to keep you so--but the worst is done." She cut his wild locks close to his head and surveyed her work proudly. "Not such a bad-looking boy," she said to herself. "Now for a night shirt and bed." She threw over his head an old cotton shirt and led him up to the attic. "Sleep here," she said, pointing to a clean little bed in one corner. "Rest well and to-morrow we shall see what we can do." "Where is Marushka?" asked Banda Bela. "Asleep long ago. You shall see her in the morning," and the boy slept. The sun woke him early and he lay for a few moments looking about the little room. It was high under the eaves, from which hung long strings of bright red peppers, drying for the winter's use. The morning sun glanced on them and turned them to tongues of fire. From the little window Banda Bela saw down the village street, across the green fields where sparkled rippling brooks, away to the hills. His heart gave a great leap. He had not slept in a room before in all his life. He felt stifled. There was his home, the free, glad _föld_, he would fly away while yet he could! He sprang from his bed, but where were his rags? Beside his bed was a clean white suit, whole and neat, though patched and mended, and as he paused he heard a voice cry out from below: "Where is my Banda Bela? I cannot eat my _reggeli_[6] without Banda Bela." "I must stay with Marushka," he said to himself, and with a sigh he hurriedly put on the white suit, and ran downstairs. Aszszony Semeyer was in the kitchen. "Good morning," she said. "One would not know you for the same boy. Marushka is in the garden feeding the geese. Run you and help her," and she pointed to the back of the house, where a little garden was gay with flowers, herbs, and shrubs.