The Townsends,
although they lived in a fine house in a genteel, almost
fashionable, part of the city, were true to their antecedents and
kept, as they had been accustomed, only one maid. She was the
daughter of a farmer on the outskirts of their native village, was
middle-aged, and had lived with them for the last ten years. One
pleasant Monday morning she rose early and did the family washing
before breakfast, which had been prepared by Mrs. Townsend and
Adrianna, as was their habit on washing-days. The family were
seated at the breakfast table in their basement dining-room, and
this maid, whose name was Cordelia, was hanging out the clothes in
the vacant lot. This vacant lot seemed a valuable one, being on a
corner. It was rather singular that it had not been built upon.
The Townsends had wondered at it and agreed that they would have
preferred their own house to be there. They had, however, utilized
it as far as possible with their innocent, rural disregard of
property rights in unoccupied land.
"We might just as well hang out our washing in that vacant lot,"
Mrs. Townsend had told Cordelia the first Monday of their stay in
the house.
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