“It vill vash,” said Poopy, in a deprecatory tone.

“I hope it will,” replied Alice, shaking her head doubtfully; for her experience in the laundry had not yet been so extensive as to enable her to pronounce at once on the eradicability of such a frightfully deep impression.  While she was still shaking her head in dubiety on this point, and while Poopy was still making futile attempts to obtain a view of the spot, the door of the kitchen opened, and Master Corrie swaggered in, with his hands thrust into the outer pockets of his jacket, his shirt collar thrown very much open, and his round straw hat placed very much on the back of his head; for, having seen some of the crew of the Talisman, he had been smitten with a strong desire to imitate a man-of-war’s-man in aspect and gait.

At his heels came that scampering mass of ragged door-mat Toozle, who, feeling that a sensation of some kind or other was being got up for his amusement, joined heartily in the shout of delight that burst from the youthful Corrie when he beheld the extraordinary figure in the fireplace.

“Well, I say, Kickup,” cried the youth, picking up his hat, which had fallen off in the convulsion, and drying his tears, “you’re a sweet-lookin’ creetur, you are!  Is this a new frock you’ve got to go to church with?  Come, I rather like that pattern; but there’s not quite enough of ’em.  Suppose I lend a hand and print a few more all over you?  There’s plenty of pots and pans here to do it; and if Alice will bring down her white frock I’ll give it a touch-up too.”

“How can you talk such nonsense, Corrie!” said Alice, laughing.  “Down, Toozle; silence, sir.  Go, my dear Poopy, and put on another frock; and make haste, for I have something to say to you.”

Thus admonished, the girl ran to a small apartment that opened off the kitchen, and speedily reappeared in another tunic.  Meanwhile, Corrie had seated himself on the floor, with Toozle between his knees and Alice on a stool at his side.  Poopy, in a fit of absence of mind, was about to resume her seat on the iron pot, when a simultaneous shriek, bark, and roar recalled her scattered faculties, produced a “hee! hee!” varied with a faint “ho!” and induced her to sit down on the floor beside her mistress.

“Now, tell me, Poopy,” said Alice, “did you ever hear of friends who were not really friends, but enemies?”

The girl stared with a vacant countenance at the bright, intelligent face of the child, and shook her head slowly.

“Why don’t you ask me?” inquired Corrie.  “You might as well ask Toozle as that potato Kickup.  Eh?  Puppy, don’t you confess that you are no better than a vegetable?  Come, now, be honest.”

“Hee! hee!” replied Poopy.

“Humph!  I thought so.  But that’s an odd question of yours, Alice.  What do you mean by it?”

“I mean that my papa thinks there are friends in the settlement who are enemies.”