The bristled brush made a shower of water erupt from the smaller-than-she-would like metal bucket as Lottie dropped it in the suds. It was getting harder and harder to clean her floors these days. It was probably one of those temperance women rampaging about the evils of drink. Lottie dried her wet hands on her apron and opened the door. It was not a lady of means championing the virtues of being sober, but Anne Ward.

"Anne! This is a surprise! Do ye some need help dear?" Lottie asked recalling her recent offer to be a sympathetic ear. She leaned slightly on the doorframe to rest her aging knees.