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boil them. Wastes the best part. Now don't you make any mess—there's no room for slopping about in a wagon."

He did his best, holding each potato very carefully in the middle of the bowl. The water was soon a deep brown: he did not think they could really be clean in so little, but when he suggested more Mrs. Dan told him that in a circus every drop of water was precious. He found a little piece of sacking in the basket, and rubbed them well before washing them, which Mrs. Dan noted with an approving eye, though she made no comment. The sacking was useful for wiping up the splashes he could not avoid, and for drying his hands when the job was finished. Then Mrs. Dan emptied the basin from the steps, and told him to get busy and rub up the brass-work.

Hugh liked that. His father had taught him to keep his bit and stirrup-irons in good order, and to clean his saddle: he was no stranger to rubbing. He went about his new job methodically, working his rag into all the twirls and crevices of the brass mounts. It was pleasant to see them winking and shining at him in the bright sunlight that flooded the caravan. Nita watched him, perplexed: she hated to be told to rub the brass, and was expert at leaving finger-marks upon it, since that meant that next time Mummy would probably find it more satisfactory to do it herself. It had not occurred to her that any boy could really like such a job. She reflected that most likely he was only trying to get on

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