“Can’t some variety of soap be invented with more poetry in it?” I require.
“It could,” she dib, “but it would probably be useless to take the dirt out.”
Hon. Mag fill tub with artistic color from blue bottle.
“While you are idle you can do something!” she holla suddenly like a steam whistle.
“How could I do something when idle?” this inquiry from me.
“You see that baskett of clothes?” She point forth to one baskett full of complete whiteness like a bushel of damp ghosts.
“I observe what is.”
“Take them immediately for hang-out!” she otter with gloom.
“What should I hang them out from?” I require.
“Maybe you are not acquainted with clothesline!” she say sarcastly while she led me forth to back yard where she introduce me to this useful rope. “If I knew I was to come to this place to be washing-instructor, I should demand teacher’s salary,” she pronounce glubly.