It was Jimmy who conceived the exquisite idea of dipping his brush in the bucket and sprinkling William with water. A scrubbing-brush is in many ways almost as good as a hose. Each had a pail of ammunition. Each had a good-sized brush. During the next few minutes they experienced purest joy. Then William heard threatening movements above, and decided hastily that the battle must cease.
"Backstairs," he said shortly. "Come on."
Marking their track by a running stream of water, they crept up the backstairs.
But two small boys soaked to the skin could not disclaim all knowledge of a flooded hall.
William was calm and collected when confronted with a distracted mother.
"We was tryin' to clean up," he said. "We found all snail marks an' we was tryin' to clean up. We was tryin' to help. You said so last night, you know, when you was talkin' to me. You said to _help_. Well, I thought it was helpin' to try an' clean up. You can't clean up with water an' not get wet--not if you do it prop'ly. You said to try an' make Christmas Day happy for other folks and then I'd be happy. Well, I don't know as I'm very happy," he said, bitterly, "but I've been workin' hard enough since early this mornin'. I've been workin'," he went on pathetically. His eye wandered to the notice on his wall. "I've been _busy_ all right, but it doesn't make me _happy_--not jus' now," he added, with memories of the rapture of the fight. That certainly must be repeated some time. Buckets of water and scrubbing-brushes. He wondered he'd never thought of that before.
William's mother looked down at his dripping form.
"Did you get all that water with just cleaning up the snail marks?" she said.
William coughed and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, deprecatingly, "most of it. I think I got most of it."
"If it wasn't Christmas Day ..." she went on darkly.
William's spirits rose. There was certainly something to be said for Christmas Day.
It was decided to hide the traces of the crime as far as possible from William's father. It was felt--and not without reason--that William's father's feelings of respect for the sanctity of Christmas Day might be overcome by his feelings of paternal ire.
Half-an-hour later William, dried, dressed, brushed, and chastened, descended the stairs as the gong sounded in a hall which was bare of hats and coats, and whose floor shone with cleanliness.