go and look at this fellow's stuff. When you come back to wash, all you'll have to do will be to rinse 'em out and put them out to dry."
This sounded plausible, and the middy blouse and collars were left to soak themselves clean.
The peddler proved to have a horse and wagon, and he carried dress goods, notions, kitchen wear, books, stationery and candy. Bob and Betty had never seen a wagon fitted up like this, and they thought it far better than a store.
"I might buy that dotted swiss shirtwaist," whispered Betty, as Mrs. Watterby ordered five yards of apron gingham measured off. "My middy blouse might not dry in time."
"All right. And I'll get a clean collar," agreed Bob. "These aren't much and I suppose they're too cheap to last long, but at any rate they're clean."
The peddler drove on at last, and then Bob and Betty hurried back to their washing. Alas, the tub had disappeared. At supper that night, Mrs. Watterby had missed it and demanded of her husband if he had seen it.
"Sure, I had Ki spraying the henhouse this afternoon," Watterby rejoined. "Thought you'd mixed the soapsuds and washing soda for him. It was standing in the barn."
Betty explained. Of her blouse and Bob's collars, there remained a few ragged shreds, for
