THE laundress, as an institution, is dying out. Men are getting particular about their rooms; one across the way, that set where the cork window-boxes are, bought a feather broom last week. There is a very reprehensible feeling of respectability and decorum about. Most of the fellows have smart young women to clean their rooms. I see them tripping gingerly across the square in the mornings, with loose cotton blouses, curly hair, and artificial flowers in their big hats.
But the good old laundress, all fat and dirt and impudence, contents me. She has a draggled skirt with a deep hem of dried mud, a flat pancake of a bonnet, all melancholy jet and brown ribbon that once was black. She wobbles when she moves; she is a half-set jelly in a greasy bag. I like her; to me she recalls my youth, the old wild days when I and the others were young. With a few exceptions she is only employed to clean offices now.
She is a professional woman. For many years the care of certain sets descended quite naturally from mother to daughter. They were pocket boroughs—hereditary pickings. The tenant was a mere incident, to be borne with up to a certain point.
I remember that Arnold was always squabbling with his laundress. He was an assertive little chap, and understood nothing in the world but dogs. He had no sense of humor; resented Mrs. Neaves and asked me to mediate. I suggested an apology.
Mrs. Neaves was blue-eyed. She had a singularly flat, red nose.
“Me apologize to the likes of ’im!” she cried out in a pained voice. “Me! As ’ave cleaned that set for years. Why, I treats ’im worse than the dirt under my feet. Do you know what he did? ’E threatened to punch my nose.”
“Come, come! Did he do it?”
“Did ’e do it! It ’ud a bin Gawd ’elp ’im if ’e ’ad. I’d a summonsed ’im,” she cried as she flounced off.
After this Arnold went through many vicissitudes; a new laundress every week. He was like a woman; took these things to heart. I shall never forget how pleased he was when he came to tell me that he’d got a treasure at last.
She was very smart; a rather supercilious young married woman, with long earrings and a pert, white face. She came to the Inn wearing black kid gloves and a silver locket and chain; she carried a little reticule with her apron rolled up tightly inside. Things went very well for a week. She kept the place spotless. But when Arnold paid her on Saturday afternoon, she asked him civilly to “suit himself.”