Because of a state law, articles in such a condition cannot be sent to a laundry—they must first be rinsed and dried. I was just beginning the unpleasant task of rinsing preparatory to carrying them, mattresses and bedclothes, to hang on the lines in the back yard, when Mrs. Howard entered.
“You’re not beginning very well this morning, Miss Porter,” she again told me, and her tone was unmistakably intended to be insulting.
My respect for Mrs. Howard was sincere. Though I had been at Rodman Hall less than twenty-four hours I had seen enough to feel convinced that the children were all well fed, comfortably housed and clothed, and tenderly mothered. The discomforts of my room and the huge amount of work scheduled for me were matters of secondary importance. I felt sure that by a judicious use of patience and tact both would be altered to my satisfaction. Determined not to be drawn into a dispute with a woman for whom I had such sincere respect, I held my tongue. But as I continued to work I couldn’t help wondering what had happened that could make her so far forget herself.
“Where were you last night?” she demanded, and glancing up I found her following close at my heels. “You were not in your room at nine o’clock. I took the sheets off your bed. Where were you?”
A child could have knocked me down, I was so amazed. That Mrs. Howard should use such an insulting tone when addressing me was enough of a shock. That she would be guilty of such an act of spiteful tyranny as taking the sheets off the bed of an employee was unbelievable. I stared at her, stupidly silent.
“And you’re not beginning so well, now, are you?” she repeated a third time, and if possible her tone was even more insultingly taunting.
That loosened my tongue.
“I may not have begun so well, Mrs. Howard,” I told her as I unbuttoned my apron. “But I shall improve as I go along.”
Having taken off my apron I handed it to her.
“What is this for?” she demanded, staring at the apron. “What do you mean by this?”