otter. “You tell me to ring the clothes, not so?” I ask it. “I despise you for your yellow mind!” she dib. “Clothes does not ring when you ring them!” I could not assimilate the way she said it. She lift several drowned clothes from the tub and show me with considerable muscle how to squash them through those rollers. Clothes, however wet, can be sent through that machinery and emerge forth with great dignity like flat snakes. I turn crank handle continuously while Hon. Maggie make poke-in with wettish clothing. I enjoy great pain in my wrist and elbows, and when I commence to quit, this laundered female say “Faster” with bull dog expression. Pretty soonly I lay down my hands and stop. Her mad eyebrows snub me. “Hon. Mrs. Wash,” I renig, “why should76 you be more cross and peeved than other persons?” 76 “Togo,” she say so, “my duties require it. Cleaning things is a job full of tragedy and other grouch. It would be unnatural to laugh while washing. Clothes is pleasanter to wear, but unpleasant to scrub. It is similar with everything. Dishes is joyful to eat from, but nobody admire them when hour of dishpan arrive. Nobody love Monday, because it is sacred to splash and suds, yet if Monday was abolished by Congress, there would be no beautiful society on Saturday night.” “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.
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