42
THE BOX-CAR CHILDREN
they dried themselves with the towel. Then Jess washed both towels nicely with soap, rinsed them, and hung them on the clothesline of tape, which she had stretched between two slender birch trees. They flapped lazily in the wind.
"Looks like home already, Jess," said Henry, smiling at the washing.
The tired children clambered into the "bedroom," Jess coming last with the wounded dog.
"We'll have to leave the door open, it's so hot," said Henry, lying down with a tired sigh.
And in less than ten minutes they were fast asleep, dog and all—asleep at six o'clock, asleep without naming the dog, without locking the door, without fear, for this was the first night in four that they had been able to go to sleep at night, as children should.
