clothesline. The lady what was hangin' 'em up says, 'Don't you trow no mud on them underclothes.'"

"Any mud," corrected Jeanne, patiently. "And saw, not seen."

"The lady said 'no mud,'" insisted Michael.

"Then maybe she wasn't a truly lady. Sometimes you see a truly lady in a little gold frame and she never says 'I done it.'"

"How could she?" demanded practical Michael, to whom Jeanne had intrusted the cake of soap, in order that he might lather himself while she rinsed Annie's hair. For this process, Annie sat in the Cinder Pond, whose waters were so placid that, even when the lake outside was exceedingly rough, there were no treacherous waves to trouble small children. Both boys could swim. Jeanne, too, could swim a little, but was too timid to venture into very deep water.

"There," said Michael, returning the precious cake. "Gimme the rag and I'll rub if I got to. Here, Sammy, I'll rub you first."

"Aw, no," protested Sammy, backing away. "Let sister do it—she rubs softer."

The bath lasted a good long time, because, the worst of the agony over, the happy youngsters wished to play in the water. It was only with great difficulty that Jeanne finally coaxed her charges back into their clothes.

"I don't blame you," she mourned, "for hating them. I do wish you had some clean ones."

Mollie was peeling potatoes outside the cabin door, when Jeanne returned home with her spotless family. She was peeling the vegetables wastefully, as usual. Mollie could go everlastingly without things; she couldn't economize or take care of what she had. Or at least she didn't.

"Mollie," said Jeanne, "I've been thinking that I'd like to sew. Could you teach me, do you s'pose?"

"Me? I couldn't sew," laughed Mollie, good-naturedly, her soft fat body shaking as she laughed. "I never did sew. Ma always done all that. I could tie a bow to pin on a hat, maybe, but sew—lordy, I couldn't cut out a handkercher!"

Mrs. Shannon, in spite of the warm sunshine, sat inside, huddled over the stove. Her fingers were drawn out of shape with rheumatism. Her knees and her elbows were stiff. She sat with her back bent. Out of her shriveled, unlovely face her eyes gleamed balefully.

"Granny," asked Jeannette, rather doubtfully, "could you teach me to sew?"

"I could, but I won't," snapped the old woman. "Let your father do it—your his young one. If he'd make money like a man ought to, you could buy clothes ready-made. But he ain't no money-maker, and he never will be."

Jeanne backed hastily out of the shack. Even when Mrs. Shannon said pleasant things, which was not very often, she had a rasping, unpleasant voice. Clearly there was no hope in that quarter.

CHAPTER V

THE SEWING LESSON

Jeanne's father was out in the fishing boat with Barney; but Old Captain was mending a net near the door of his box-car. Perhaps he could help her with this new and perplexing problem. She would ask.

So, with her family trailing behind, she paid a visit to the Captain.

"Captain," said she, "can you mend anything besides nets?"

"Men's pants," returned Old Captain, briefly.

"Could you make anything? A shirt, you know, or—or an apron?"

"Well," replied the Captain, doubtfully, "I could sew up a seam, maybe, if somebody cut the darned thing—hum, ladies present—the old thing out."

"Could you teach me to sew a seam! You see, these children haven't a single clean thing to put on. If I could sew, I could make clothes for them, I believe, because I think Daddy would buy me some cloth."

"Well now, Jeannie, if you could manage to get the needle threaded—that there's what gets me. Hold on—I got a big one, somewhere's—now where did I put that needle!"

Old Captain rose ponderously to his feet, shuffled about inside his cabin and finally returned with a large spool of dingy thread, a mammoth thimble, and a huge darning needle. Also, he had found a piece of an old flour sack.

"Now, sit down aside me here and I'll show you. First you ties a knot—Oh, no! First you threads the needle like this—Well, by gum, went in, didn't she? An' then you ties the knot—a good big 'un so she won't slip out. Then you lays the edges of the cloth together, like this, and you pokes the needle through—Here you, Sammy! You'll get your nose pricked!"