"Come and give me a
hand here. Just help turn this thing over."
"_Comme cela?_" inquired the astonished cook, making pantomime with
his hands.
"Exactly. That's right. Catch hold of the other side and don't let go
until I tell you."
The cook complied. Really, the Gasowashine seemed to turn more easily
than might have been expected from its huge bulk.
A strain or two, a puffed command from Hawkins, an ominous sliding
about of hidden dishes, and the machine lurched forward, poised a
moment on its edge and turned quite gently, so that the wheels
approached the floor.
"Now, easy! Easy!" cried Hawkins. "Don't let the wheels down until I
tell you, and don't let go till I give the word. Now down! Down!
Gently."
The cook seemed to be feeling for a new grip.
"Here! What are you doing?" cried the inventor. "Don't touch any of
those handles."
"It is that I seek a place for ze hand," murmured the cook
apologetically.
"Well, find it and let her down. Got your grip?"
"Aha! I have eet!" announced the Frenchman, clutching one of the brass
knobs.
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