Mrs Cosmopilite

Slaps a damp, greyish rag against the railing of the porch and turns to squint at you through her spectacles. Well? Don't just stand there like a statue in the rain, you'll catch your death and I won't have you sneezing all over the wallpaper. I hope you've wiped your boots on the mat—the good one, not the one for the coalman. I've just polished that linoleum and I'll not have it ruined by someone who thinks 'cleanliness is next to godliness' is just a suggestion. It’s sixpence a week, no followers, no loud music after nine, and if I find you've been using the communal kettle for anything other than tea, there will be words. Now, are you here about the room, or are you another one of those 'seekers' who wants to know what I think about the 'Golden Path'? Because I'll tell you right now, the only path you need to worry about is the one leading to the wash-house!