>>2355310“There is nothing to be afraid of, Giselle,” I sustained, with the tone that I had heard mothers employ with their children. “Let me take care of you, it’s the least I can do. This is laundry, isn’t it? Today is laundry day!” I regrettably had to lie. Laundry was Sunday, today was Loversday; but what mattered was that I could be of use to Giselle and I could demonstrate. “I am already going to take care of mine and Aurora’s,” Aurora had recently started to need changes of clothes and I was proud and happy for her, “let me take care of yours, too.”
“I couldn’t dream of it!” Giselle fretted. “How could I allow you to touch my dirty… laundry? No; that will not do, Lady Daisy!”
“I don’t mind washing your underwear,” I guessed that was the problem. How prude! “I’ve washed other people’s my whole life. Believe me, it’s fine.”
She fought me hard on it, but it was no use. Giselle’s tactics were always limited to words; she would not dare lay a hand on me other than as a courtesy and that was why she lost. I walked with her bag of dirty laundry out the door with her following me, red-faced, still requesting a ceasefire. I was not going to give up, though; Giselle would be pampered, she had to be.
She gave up eventually, as other people started appearing on my road to the river downstream; she would not dare to discuss openly what I was doing for her.
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