The tub rested on a couple of stools.

A little to the left, Caleb Trotter, with his back turned to the river, was wringing the articles of male costume which his master handed him, and disposing them about the shingle to dry.
[Illustration: Washing day.] The Admiral had chosen a washing-day for his first call at Kit's House.
The approach of the boat was at first unperceived; for Caleb, as I said, had his back turned to it, and Mr.Fogo's spectacles were bent over his employment.
"Really," murmured the Admiral, as his eye travelled over the beach, "anything more indelicate--Why, Miss Limpenny might be rowing this way for anything they know.

Hi, sir!" Still grasping the tiller-lines, the Admiral stood up on the stern seat and shouted.
At the sound Mr.Fogo raised his spectacles and blandly stared through them at the strangers.

Caleb started, turned suddenly round, and came rushing down the beach, his right hand frantically waving them back, his left grasping a pair of--( Oh! Miss Limpenny!) "Hi! you must go back.

Go away, I tell 'ee!" he gesticulated.
"What on--" "Go away; no females allowed here.