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.
"It's a nice drying day—that's one thing," said Bobbie, feeling very grown up. "Oh, I do wonder what wonderful feelings we shall have when we wear the Indian muslin dresses!"
"Yes, so do I," said Phyllis, shaking and squeezing the muslin in quite a professional manner.
"Now we squeeze out the soapy water. No—we mustn't twist them—and then rinse them. I'll hold them while you and Peter empty the bath and get clean water."
"A presentation! That means presents," said Peter, as his sisters, having duly washed the pegs and wiped the line, hung up the dresses to dry. "Whatever will it be?"
"It might be anything," said Phyllis; "what I've always wanted is a Baby elephant—but I suppose they wouldn't know that."
"Suppose it was gold models of steam-engines?" said Bobbie.
"Or a big model of the scene of the prevented accident," suggested Peter, "with a little model
