I wonder if mother
_would_ notice now if things were different. What if we did live like
other folks,--had nice tilings, and kept them put up, and the room swept.
Suppose I try it. What could I do? I might sweep and wash off the stove,
and--and clean off the mantelpiece. I'll just do it, and see if anybody
in this house will care."
No sooner thought than commenced. Kitty went to work. The dishes were
washed until they shone; those clean dishes shouldn't go in such a
disorderly cupboard. There was no help for it, the shelves must be
washed; down came the bottles and bundles, papers of this and boxes of
that, which had been gathering, Kitty didn't know how long, and the
astonished shelves felt soap and water once more. How they were scrubbed!
"Kitty," called her father from his bedroom, hearing the racket, "what
are you doing?"
"I'm cleaning house," answered Kitty promptly.
And her father, because he did not know what else to do, let her work.
From the cupboard she went to the mantelpiece, bundled the things all off
in a heap, washed it thoroughly, and put everything in order.
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