"Mother! Mother!" cried little Mary, running into the house. "Mr. Clover says he doesn't need this lamb—it's extra—and I may have it for my very own!" Yes, now it was Mary's little lamb—and how they loved each other! They went together everywhere—in the house and the barn, and over to Grandfathers, to play with little Aunt Hannah. Mary's Aunt Hannah was only three years older than Mary herself and they played together all the time. The two little girls thought the lamb was beautiful, but it was not very clean. "I don't want a dirty, dusty little lamb," said Mary; "I want a nice, clean, white lamb." "Then we must wash it." said little Aunt Hannah. "Father washes all his sheep in the river every spring." Out by the barn stood the faucet with the big wooden trough where the cows drank. The trough was full of water, standing in the sun. Mary leaned over the edge and dipped her hand. "It's nice and warm," she said. "Now, dear little lamb jump right in!" But the lamb wouldn't jump—so Mary and little Aunt Hannah lifted him, and dropped him into the trough. Then they rubbed him with soap, and squeezed his fur with their hands. The poor little lamb didn't like it, and kept trying to get out—till, as Mary tried to hold him her foot slipped and in she fell, head first! Oh, how she screamed! And Aunt Hannah screamed, too, and the lamb cried "Ba-a-a!" as loud as he could. Little Aunt Hannah's mother came running from the house fished them out of the water, and carried them into her living room one under each arm. There she rubbed them dry, wrapped them both in towels and set them by the fireplace, to get warm.
How they fed him.
