"Into nice neat little heaps," offered Cleo, stretching out a sheet on the narrow floor, and thereby doing deadly damage to the white muslin.
"I know that the table linen should be absolutely separate," declared Julia authoritatively, beginning on the small collection of table stuff. "Please Grace, fetch me the basket."
"I need the basket for my collection," objected Grace. "Mine is much the most. I have the underlies," she catalogued, holding up a dainty hand-made camisole that was surely never intended to enter an amateur washing contest.
"Lovely," exclaimed Louise, dropping a pair of silk hose into the neat little pile of table linen.
"There," cried Margaret. "We surely didn't undertake this as an inspection. Let's get right at the wash, Cleo, please put some water in the machine."
"However do you do that?" asked Grace in genuine awe, for plainly the washing machine was not connected with any water faucet.
"Why, I have to put that hose on that tub over there and fill it that way," proudly explained the wash-day hostess. "I should think, Margaret, if you are going to be boss you would understand something of the system," she joked.
"Oh, I just love to be Margaret-by-the-day," answered the self-appointed supervisor, "but even she, you remember, did not know all about electric washing machines. Now let's see how the hose works."
But no need to see, they could feel, for the hose had slipped from its niche in the washing machine, and seemed to be pouring out volumes of water on everybody.
"Turn it off," shouted Louise, already pretty wet and surely getting wetter.