them with a great feeling of discomfort. She could not bear to see them
so; they ought to be washed; but Daisy disliked the idea of touching
them for that purpose more than I can make you understand. In all
matters of nicety and cleanliness Daisy was notional; nothing suited her
but the most fastidious particularity. It had been a trial to her to
bring those unwashed things from the cupboard. Now she sat and looked at
them; uneasily debating what she should do. It was not comfortable, that
Molly should take her breakfast off them as they were; and Molly was
miserable herself and would do nothing to mend matters. And
then--"Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you,"--As soon as that
came fairly into Daisy's head, she knew what she ought to be about. Not
without an inward sigh, she gathered up the pieces again.

"What you going to do?" said Molly.

"I'll bring them back," said Daisy. "I will be ready directly. The water
is not boiling yet."

For she saw that Molly was jealously eager for the hoped-for cup of tea.
She carried the things out into the shed, and there looked in vain for
any dish or vessel to wash them in. How could it be that Molly managed?
Daisy was fain to fetch a little bowl of water and wash the crockery
with her fingers, and then fetch another bowl of water to rinse it.
There was no napkin to be seen. She left the things to drain as they
could, and went to the spring to wash her own fingers; rejoicing in the
purifying properties of the sweet element. All this took some time, but
Daisy carried in her clean dishes with a satisfied heart.

"It's bi'lin',--" said Molly as soon as she entered.