It was sun-up now.

The little Cavendishes, reluctant but overpersuaded, had their faces washed alongside and were dressed by Connie, while Mrs.Cavendish performed the same offices for the baby.

Then there was breakfast, from which Mr.Cavendish rose yawning to go to bed, where, before dropping off to sleep, he played with the baby.

This left Mrs.Cavendish in full command of her floating dooryard.

She smoked a reflective pipe, watching the river between puffs, and occasionally lending a hand at the sweeps.
Later the family wash engaged her.