Publisher's Synopsis
The first Wednesday in every month was a Perfectly Awful Day-a day to be awaited withdread, endured with courage and forgotten with haste. Every floor must be spotless, everychair dustless, and every bed without a wrinkle. Ninety-seven squirming little orphansmust be scrubbed and combed and buttoned into freshly starched ginghams; and allninety-seven reminded of their manners, and told to say, "Yes, sir," "No, sir," whenever aTrustee spoke.It was a distressing time; and poor Jerusha Abbott, being the oldest orphan, had to bear thebrunt of it. But this particular first Wednesday, like its predecessors, finally dragged itselfto a close. Jerusha escaped from the pantry where she had been making sandwiches for theasylum's guests, and turned upstairs to accomplish her regular work. Her special care wasroom F, where eleven little tots, from four to seven, occupied eleven little cots set in a row.Jerusha assembled her charges, straightened their rumpled frocks, wiped their noses, andstarted them in an orderly and willing line toward the dining-room to engage themselvesfor a blessed half hour with bread and milk and prune pudding.
