Franz is a little boy about four years old, who lives in Brooklyn, California. His favorite play is to take some pieces of cloth, fill his mouth with water, turn his head from side to side, letting the water squirt from the corners of his mouth upon them (as he has seen the Chinamen do at the laundry), fold them, turn the iron-stand on its back, and carefully smooth them. This is Foo Lee, washing and ironing. Sometimes the clothes are not wet enough, and the sprinkling goes on with the ironing. "Your clothes will smell of tobacco and opium, if you sprinkle them so much," says Franz's elder brother. "No, they won't," says the little wash-man. "Me do them good; me do them cheap." When he gets tired of this, he puts his wash into a piece of paper, and takes the bundle to mamma. "I hope the clothes are not too blue, John," says mamma. "No," answers Foo Lee. "They done good this time." "And did you find my stockings, which were missing from last week's wash?" "Yes, they all here. I found them: they all right this time,—fifty dozen." "How much shall I pay you?" "Six bits." (Seventy-five cents.) "I do them velly cheap." Mamma gives him two buttons,—one large one for the four-bit piece, (fifty cents), and a smaller one for the two bits (twenty-five cents). "Thankee. Good-baah!" says Foo Lee. "Good-by," returns mamma. L. M. Divider
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