“They’d give you a snubbing if you asked them!” laughed Aunt Harriet.  “Cleaning a car is uncommonly hard work.  You might manage our small one, but by the time you’d done the whole round of the garage, you’d be ready to declare it wasn’t a woman’s job.”

“I’d chance it!” retorted Winona.

She had her opportunity after all, for the garage attendant was taken ill, and remained off duty for several days.  On the Saturday morning Winona set to work and cleaned, polished and oiled the car thoroughly.  It was very dirty after a muddy day’s use, so she had her full experience.  It was certainly far harder than she had anticipated, and she felt devoutly thankful that she was not bound to attack the cars in the other sheds, and perform similar services for each.

“Sam earns his money,” she assured Aunt Harriet, when she returned at lunch-time.  “On the whole, I’ve decided I won’t be a lady chauffeur.  It’s bad enough to have to clean one’s bicycle, but if I had to go through this car performance every day, I don’t think there’d be very much left of me.”

“Ah!  I told you so!” returned, Aunt Harriet triumphantly.

Motoring was not the only fresh form of activity which Winona had taken up this summer.  The school had organized swimming classes, and on certain clean-water days detachments of girls were conducted to the public baths.  Owing to her college entrance examinations, Winona had not been able to attend the full course, but she had learnt to swim last summer at the baths, and was as enthusiastic as anybody.  Miss Medland, the teacher, was an expert from Dunningham; she was skillful herself, and clever at training her pupils.  The girls soon gained confidence in the water, and began to be able to perform what they called “mermaid high jinks.”

The Public Baths at Seaton were most remarkably good, so good indeed that many of the citizens had raised a protest against the Corporation for spending so much money upon them.  The High School girls, who had not to pay the rates, did not sympathize with the grumbles of ratepayers, and rejoiced exceedingly in the sumptuous accommodation.  They specially appreciated the comfort of the dressing-rooms, and the convenience of the hot-air apparatus for drying their hair.  The restaurant, where tea or bovril could be had, was also a luxury for those who were apt to turn shivery after coming from the water.

“I can understand why the Romans were so enthusiastic about their public baths,” said Audrey Redfern.  “Just think of having little trays of eatables floating about on the water, so that you could have a snack whenever you wanted, and slaves to bring you delicious scent afterwards, and garlands of flowers.  I wish I’d lived some time B.C. instead of in the twentieth century!”

“Be thankful you didn’t live in the twelfth, for then you mightn’t have had a bath at all!” returned Winona; “certainly not a public one, and probably not the private one either.  An occasional canful of water would have been thought quite sufficient for you, with perhaps a dip in a stream if you could get it.  The people who bathed were mostly pilgrims at Holy Wells, and they all used the same water, no matter what their diseases were.”