A pair of pattens only cost ten pence and lasted for years. But the patten was doomed. Vicarage ladies and farmers’ wives no longer wore them to go to and fro between their dairies and poultry yards, and newly married cottagers no longer provided themselves with a pair. “Too proud to wear pattens” was already becoming a proverb at the beginning of the decade, and by the end of it they had practically disappeared.

The morning cleaning proceeded to the accompaniment of neighbourly greetings and shouting across garden and fences, for the first sound of the banging of mats was a signal for others to bring out theirs, and it would be “Have ‘ee heard this?” and “What d’ye think of that?” until industrious housewives declared that they would take to banging their mats overnight, for they never knew if it was going to take them two minutes or two hours.

Nicknames were not used among the women, and only the aged were spoken of by their Christian names, Old Sally or Old Queenie or sometimes Dame—Dame Mercer or Dame Morris. The other married women were Mrs. This or Mrs. That, even with those who had known them from their cradles. Old men were called Master, not Mister. Younger men were known by their nicknames or their Christian names, excepting a few who were more than usually respected. Children were carefully taught to address all as Mr. or Mrs.

Cleaning began at about the same time in every house, but the time of finishing varied. Some housewives would have everything spick-and-span and themselves “tidied up” by noon; others would still be at it at teatime. “A slut’s work’s never done” was a saying among the good housewives.

It puzzled Laura that, although everybody cleaned up every day, some houses looked what they called there “a pictur” and others a muddle. She remarked on this to her mother.

“Come here,” was the answer. “See this grate I’m cleaning? Looks done, doesn’t it? But you wait.”

Up and down and round and round and between the bars went the brush; then: “Now look. Looks different, doesn’t it?” It did. It had been passably polished before; now it was resplendent. “There!” said her mother. “That’s the secret; just that bit of extra elbow-grease after some folks would consider a thing done.”

But that final polish, the giving of which came naturally to Laura’s mother, could not have been possible to all. Pregnancy and nursing and continual money worries must have worn down the strength and energy of many. Taking these drawbacks into account, together with the inconvenience and overcrowding of the cottages, the general standard of cleanliness was marvellous.