When all preparations had been made, Scipio became the chief operator, and each man took up his position where best he could witness the process. There was something so mildly stimulating to these ruffians in observing the clumsy lavering of two small children. They all appreciated cleanliness in theory; it was only the practice that they were unaccustomed to, and here it was being demonstrated before their interested eyes. They watched Scipio's efforts for some moments in silence, while he, with gentle persuasion, overcame each childish protest. He did it in such a kindly, patient way that very soon these small atoms of humanity, sitting facing each other cross-legged in the tub, gained ample confidence, and gave expression to infantile delight by splashing each other with water, and incidentally treating their father to an even less welcome bath. They laughed and crowed and chattered while their father plied the house-flannel, and only were their piping voices quiet at such moments as their small round faces were smothered with soapsuds, or lost in the embracing folds of the none too savory cloth. But on the part of the spectators, their interest would not permit of long silence. And it was Sandy Joyce, quite irrepressible where advice was concerned, who found it necessary to interfere. "Ain't you rubbin' 'em too hard?" he questioned, after prolonged cogitation. Scipio turned to reply in the midst of swabbing Jamie's lower limbs. He was holding one foot dangerously high in the air, and the movement caused him to upset the child's balance, so that his upper part promptly disappeared beneath the frothing suds. A wild splashing and yell from Vada warned her father of the threatened tragedy, and Jamie was hauled up, coughing and spluttering. The little man, with scared face, sought at once to pacify the frightened child, while Sunny withered the interfering widower with a few well-chosen words. "Say, you'd butt in an' tell folk they wasn't nailin' up your coffin right," he cried angrily. "Will you kep that instrument o' foolishness o' yours quiet fer ten minutes?" Sandy flushed. "They ain't got hides like hogs," he grumbled. "They needs handlin' easy. Say, jest look what he's doin' now. What's--" He broke off, and all eyes watched Scipio's movements as he turned Jamie over, and, supporting his dripping body in the crook of his arm, plied the flannel upon the boy's back. The moment was a tense one. Then a sigh of relief went up as the child dropped back in the water with a splash. "I ain't never see kids handled that way," cried the disgusted Sandy, unable to keep silence any longer. Then, as no one seemed inclined to question his statement, he went on, "Wot I sez is, kids needs women-folk to do they things right. Zip's handlin' 'em like raw beef." Then he turned on Sunny, whose rebuke was still rankling. "Guess you'll say he ain't--bein' contrary. Now, ef I was washin' 'em, I'd--"