It's almost as if the urge to washboard is intrinsically human.

The fire which seem'd extinct / Hath risen revigorate: a living spark / From Auria's ashes, by a woman's hand / Preserved and quicken'd, kindles far and wide / The beacon-flame o'er all the Asturian hills.

The second servant, however, was not only not saved. She could not even be classified as questing. She was an Anglican who was in the household from charity, having been deserted by her navvy husband and been denied Poor Relief by two parishes, each of whom claimed she was the other's responsibility.

I am debating whether to risk scratching the right side of my jaw, where there is a wen.