On the face of it, the facts are wonderfully puzzling.  Domestic service is constantly urged upon women as the safest, healthiest, most normal profession in which they can possibly engage.  Assuredly it seems to possess certain unique advantages.  Domestic service is the only field of industry where the demand for workers permanently exceeds the supply.  The nature of the work is essentially suited, by habit, tradition, and long experiment, to women.  It offers economic independence within the shelter of the home.

Lastly, housework pays extremely well.  A girl totally ignorant of the art of cooking, of any household art, one whose function is to clean, scrub, and assist her employer to prepare meals, can readily command ten dollars a month, with board.  The same efficiency, or lack of efficiency, in a factory or department store would be worth about ten dollars a month, without board.  The wages of a competent houseworker, in any part of the country, average over eighteen dollars a month.  Add to this about thirty dollars a month represented by food, lodging, light, and fire, and you will see that the competent houseworker’s yearly income amounts to five hundred and seventy-six dollars.  This is a higher average than the school-teacher or the stenographer receives; it is almost double the average wage of the shop girl, or the factory girl.  It is, in fact, about as high as the usual income of the American workingman.

It is true that the social position of the domestic worker is lower than that of the teacher, stenographer, or factory worker.  This undoubtedly affects the attractiveness of domestic service as a profession.  But the lower social position is in itself no explanation of the high rate of immorality.  At least there are no figures to prove that the rate of morality rises or falls with the social status of the individual.

In the contemplation of what is known as the “servant problem,” I think we have been less scientific and more superficial than in any other social or industrial problem.  For the increasing dearth of domestic workers, for the lowered standard of efficiency, for the startling amount of immorality alleged to belong to the class, we have given every explanation except the right one.

At the bottom of the “servant problem” lies the fact that it exists in the privacy of the home.  Now, we have reached a point of social consciousness where we allow that it is right to intrude some homes and ask questions for the good of the community.  “How many children have you?” “Are they all in school?” “Does your husband drink?” We have not yet reached the point of sending agents to inquire:  “How many servants do you keep; what are their hours of work, and what kind of sleeping accommodations do you furnish them?”