After this, I felt prepared to wrestle with beasts at Ephesus; I determined at least I would get a charing job. Luck was with me, for at the third house I called at, I was told I could clean steps, and was given a pail of water, some hearthstone, and a flannel. I was not allowed inside the door and I set to work on one of the most hideous tasks that female flesh is heir to. And here I must protest against this business of step-cleaning; it should be abolished either by fire or Act of Parliament. It is a loathsome job, unfit for man or beast, and it has nothing of the aesthetic to condone its degradation. There can be no more hideous sight than hearthstoned steps, and I hope that everyone who indulges in such monstrosities, will have their carpets ground to pieces by the surplus white brought in from outside.

I cleaned those steps and the rage within my heart warmed the cold water. I did them very badly⁠—I know that⁠—and I am not sorry. If step cleaners were less conscientious it would be a good thing for them, and “larn” householders to be content with the scrubbing brush. I was given threepence for the job and then with a sudden, kindly thought, the mistress added another penny.