Me name is Mrs. White. I hate the Mrs. part, but that's what I'm called by Mr. Boddy, who I lives with, as I'm his housekeeper, but he don't pay me enough to be called both, so I say I'm just his housekeeper, and I don't mean to say I lives with 'im, 'cause I got me own teeny, tiny mattress in the basement, where I sleep on a thin, thin, thin mattress on a cot what ain't fit for prisoners in a jail cell. And the food! I get scraps, leftovers, tasteless, gristly stuff the dog won't eat. And I works seven long, hard days, with no rest for me weary bones, me weary muscles, me weary hands, feet, eyes, nose, hair. I need a drink.