"I brought down this embroidered shirt-waist for you to wash, Mrs. Whittaker, and will you please be careful not to rub the embroidery on the board; it isn't much soiled, you see; a little of this white soap will be best for the flannels and for all these fine white things. By the way, you haven't put any of that washing powder into the water, have you? I buy that for the floors and tables; Mary thinks she can't get along without it. But it is very bad for the clothes." Mrs. Whittaker received the garment in question with an air of lofty unconcern. "I wuz never known to put that nasty yellow stuff in m' clo'es," she said haughtily. "I sh'd think you'd know me well 'nough by this time to be sure o' that, Mis' Belknap. You don't need to worry about nothin' when _I'm_ in the kitchen." "I know you're very careful, Mrs. Whittaker," the young mistress of the house made haste to assure her. "I 'ope she'll keep out the kitchen the rest of the day," Mrs. Whittaker observed acridly, as the door closed on Mrs. Belknap's retreating figure. "The simple idee of _her_ teaching _me_ how to wash! No washin' powder, indeed! Well, I guess I ain't a-goin' to rub m' fingers to the bone fur her! That there white soap ain't worth shucks. But I'll take it 'ome with me; it'll do to wash the childern with." Mrs. Whittaker sighed deeply as she crossed the floor with the cake of white soap. "I'll just leave it in m' pocket," she said. "Is there a drop of tea in that pot? No? Well, I'll make me a cup, I guess. My! I feel s' kind o' weak an' gone at the pit o' my stomick this mornin', as I wuz tellin' m' 'usband: 'I guess I'll have to take it 's easy 's I can to-day,' I says. An' 'e says, 'Do,' 'e says, 'an' come home 's early 's you can, Maria.' No; you won't be in this place long. You won't like it. Me an' Mary gits along pretty fair; but she won't stan' another girl around. Many's the time she's said so to me, right in this kitchen." Jane hastily hung up the tea towels; her ears were burning under the loose waves of her hair. "I'll help m'self to what I want to eat," Mrs. Whittaker was saying amiably; "I know where everythin' is, an' you don't need to stay 'round here on my account. If you was wantin' to change yer place when your week's out I know a real nice woman down the street 'at ain't got a girl. I promised her yeste'd'y 'at I'd inquire 'round. I'd like to 'commodate _her_; her youngest girl's clo'es just fits my Edie May. She's a nice woman to work for, too; she ain't always a-snoopin' 'round like some other folks I know of." Mrs. Whittaker paused to empty a liberal shower of the tabooed washing compound into the boiler which was beginning to steam upon the range; then she rummaged in the pocket of her gown with an abstracted air. "Gracious! I 'ope I didn't leave that washin' soda to home. No; 'ere it is."