The door swung open enough to see inside. The room was a privy! Skif gaped, then averted his eyes to give Bazie a little privacy—but it wasn’t just any privy, it was a real water closet, the kind only the rich had, and there was a basin in there as well. The boys shut the door and left their leader in there with the door closed until a little later, when a knock on the door told he was finished. They carried him back to his usual spot beside the fire, directly under one of the lamps.

“And mornin’ t’ye, young’un,” Bazie said genially.

“Mornin’ Bazie,” Skif replied, wondering with all his might just how anyone had gotten a water closet built down here, and where Bazie had gotten the money to do so. And why—

“Skif, ye’re low mun now—’tis yer task t’ fetch water fer privy an’ all,” said Bazie, which answered at least the question of where the water for flushing came from. “An’ t’will be yer task t’ keep it full. Which—” he added pointedly, “—it needs now.”

“Yessir,” Skif said obediently, and went for the buckets. Well, at least one thing hadn’t changed—here he was, fetching water first thing in the morning!

It took about three trips to fill the tank above the privy and the pitcher at the basin, and another trip to fill the water butt that served for everything except the wash boiler. By that time all three boys were up and tidying the room at Bazie’s direction. After a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and tea, he ordered them all to strip down and wash off, using the soapy laundry water and old pieces of towel which were dropped back into the wash cauldron when they were done. Then, much to Skif’s utter amazement, instead of putting their old clothing on, they all got new, clean clothing—smallclothes and all—from the same cupboard as his outfit from yesterday had come out of. Their old clothing went straight into the piles waiting to be washed.

“What’s on yer mind, young’un?” Bazie asked as he tried to keep his eyes from bulging.

“D’we—get new duds ev’ry day?” he asked, hardly able to believe it.

“D’pends on how hard ye bin workin’,” Bazie replied, “But aye, an’ it’ll be ev’ third day at least. Ye’re dirty, ye stan’ out. Ye canna stan’ out—an’ mind wut I tol’ ye ’bout smell.”

Skif minded very well, and he couldn’t believe how thorough Bazie was; it was brilliant, really.

“(Thas’ why yon fancy privy—” Raf said with a chuckle.