.

.

Dear, it will be angelic of you to give me a good, hot scrubbing.

I could go to sleep if you would." "Of co'se I will," said Celia simply.

And, when Ailsa was ready to call her in she lifted the jugs of water which a negro had brought--one cold, one boiling hot--entered Ailsa's room, filled the fiat tin tub; and, when Ailsa stepped into it, proceeded to scrub her as though she had been two instead of twenty odd.
Then, her glowing body enveloped in a fresh, cool sheet, she lay back and closed her eyes while Celia brushed the dull gold masses of her hair.
"Honey-bee, they say that all the soldiers are in love with you, even my po' Confederate boys in Ward C.