“Oh, yes, thank you, m’m, indeed--unless it were that you could see your way to a new wash-tub; this one leaks something awful. If you thought of getting a man in to see to it he would tell you.” “I know what he would tell me,” I replied, “I say--I know what he would tell me. I have heard it before.” “And what was that, m’m?” Mrs. Muff inquired intelligently with one dripping hand behind her ear. “I can’t explain,” I shouted, “it would take too long, but it made him whistle a great deal, and I don’t think the whistling did the tub any good, so we got a new one, and that is the one you are using--it is quite new--I can’t get another just yet.” “Oh, quite so, m’m, quite so, I only thought I would mention it. I can manage splendidly, but this soap don’t seem to get up much of a lather. Where I was in my last place I did all the master’s shirts, and the table-cloths, and the sheets, and the pillow-cases. I made a splendid job of it; got a fine lather we did, and all with Cross and Blackwell’s soap, nothing else; I never put nothing to it, no soda nor chemicals; I don’t hold with them. Just the plain soap. Now I’ll just show you this soap if you can be troubled--beg pardon, it’s me left ear--if you’ll excuse me I’ll turn round--now then, what was it, m’m?” “By and by,” I screamed, “but what about your breakfast?” “Oh, don’t you trouble about that, m’m,” she assured me, “anything will do for me. Just what you are having yourselves, m’m. A bit of bread is all I need. I always say so long as we ’ave bread we’ve no need to complain. It’s a pity you don’t ’appen to have a better drying ground, isn’t it, m’m? You could do with a nice field. Always seems to make the things sweeter to my mind with plenty o’ fresh air; but, bless you, I can manage. I’ll give them an extra rub and they’ll look every bit as well. I’m accustomed to make things do as best I can, with me ’usband being an invalid. I was a splendid cook at one time, used to cook every bit of what ’e ’ad, I did indeed, and wash too--washed everything for the children--and in me last place we ’ad everything to do, the table-cloths, and the sheets, and the----” The washhouse was full of steam, so she did not notice my escape. Through the open window I could hear that she supposed me to be still with her. Presently there was an abrupt pause and the hymn began again. I told Ruth next morning that I thought she had misjudged Mrs. Muff; she seemed a good-natured old lady, and used to putting up with things. I was informed that she had carried on something dreadful that morning, wanting three courses for breakfast, besides jam and coffee; said tea wasn’t fit stuff to begin the day on, there was nothing strengthening about it. “And she’s calling the soap for everything,” Ruth added; “says she can’t wash with it, and there is no place to dry the clothes--perhaps you wouldn’t mind speaking to her.”