Jasper hurried through the hall in search of his cuff links, Charlie grudgingly ironed his best shirt, and Miss Greyson tricked the gargoyle into a washtub, where, against his wishes, she proceeded to give him a bath. “Hilary!” he cried from the washtub. “Rescue me! I feel very undignified.” “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do,” said Hilary. “Miss Greyson made me bathe too, you know.” “So I did.” Miss Greyson took up a soapy cloth and scrubbed lichen from the gargoyle’s wings. “Not even the president of the pirate league has a chance of defending herself against a determined governess.” “I’m only nearly the president,” Hilary reminded her. “And I can’t imagine what my fellow scourges and scallywags will think when I arrive at the ceremony with soap behind my ears. Most pirates are fairly crusted over with dirt.” “This,” said Miss Greyson, “is a special occasion. I’m sure everyone will be looking their best.” She lifted the gargoyle out of the washtub and wrapped him in a fluffy towel.
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