"Oh, this is a closet!" she cried.

"What a lovely large one!" "There ain't such a thing as a bath-room in this house," replied Sylvia.

"Abrahama White, your aunt, had means, but she always thought she had better ways for her money than putting in bath-rooms to freeze up in winter and run up plumbers' bills.

There ain't any bath-room, but there's plenty of good, soft rain-water from the cistern in your pitcher on the wash-stand there, and there's a new cake of soap and plenty of clean towels." Rose reddened.

Again sophistication felt abashed before dauntless ignorance.