When it was the turn of the Pretty Aunt to give her lesson in housekeeping, she said she should begin at daybreak, so Margaret was not surprised to hear her knock at the door early in the morning, almost before she was dressed.
She helped the little girl take the clothes off the bed, one at a time, and put them on two chairs near the windows, being careful not to let the blankets get on the floor. She beat the pillows well, and turned the mattress up over the foot of the bed so the air could get underneath it. The white spread she kept by itself, and had Margaret help fold it up in its creases. "Nothing wrinkles more easily," she told Margaret, "and a wrinkled spread spoils the look ofneatness a bed ought to have when it is made. If you have a heavy Marseilles spread, do not sleep under it; fold it at night and put it away, and use only the blankets, because it is not good for any one to sleep under such a weight. Now hang up your night-dress, and put away your slippers and bath-wrapper. I am delighted to see that you have no dress or petticoats lying around this morning from last night. Too many girls do not hang them up at once when they take them off, but leave them over a chair, and put them away in the morning, perhaps creased with lying. It is much better to put them away as you take them off. Open your windows, next, top and bottom, and set the closet door open, too, and then we will go to breakfast."
"Why do I open the closet door?" asked Margaret, laughing at the idea.
"Because your closet needs airing just as much as your room does; more, indeed, because its door has been shut all night, while the fresh air has been blowing intothe room through the open windows. If you did not air it every day, it would soon have a close, shut-up odor, and perhaps your dresses would have it, too, which would certainly not be nice at all. It has to have fresh air to keep it sweet. Now we will shut the door of your room as we go, for the cold wind would chill the halls, and besides, the sight of a disordered bedroom is not attractive."
After breakfast Margaret went up-stairs and shut the windows of her room, and a little later, when it was warm, she and her aunt put on fresh white aprons and went in and began to put it to rights.
One stood on each side of the bed and turned the mattress from head to foot; the next day, Margaret was told, it must be turned from side to side as well as over, to keep it always in good shape. If this was not done constantly there would soon be a hollow place in the middle, which would never come out, and the mattress would be spoiled. They laid over it the nice white pad which kept it lookingalways new and clean, and then the lower sheet, the wide hem at the top and the narrow one at the bottom, the seams toward the mattress, and tucked it smoothly in at the sides.
"Some people are careless about these little things," said the aunt as they worked. "They think it does not matter if there is a hollow in the mattress, or whether they have a cover for it or not. They mix the top and bottom sheets, and never know which is which; but you are going to do things the right way, which is always the easiest in the end."
They laid the upper sheet on with the wide hem at the top, as before, but with the seam up instead of down. Margaret wondered at this, but was told that this way made the two smooth sides of the sheets come next to the one who slept between them, and at the same time made the upper sheet turn over at the top with the seam underneath.
When the blankets went on, the Pretty Aunt said she was thankful to notice thatMargaret's mother always cut hers in two.
"What for?" asked the little girl.
"Well," was the reply, "double blankets are difficult to handle. They are really one long blanket folded together, and one-half sometimes slips and gets wrinkled, and is hard to get into place. Then, half-blankets are more easily aired than whole ones, and more easily washed, also. And if one is too warm in the night, and wishes to throw off half of the clothes, it can be done without pulling the bed to pieces. It is simple enough to cut a pair in two and bind the edges with ribbon so the colors will match, and it well pays for the small trouble."
"I sometimes wish I had a nice, fat comfortable instead of two blankets," said Margaret. "I know a girl who has such a hot one, all made of cotton and cheesecloth."
"They are not nearly as healthful as blankets, my dear, nor so easily kept clean. People who own them would hate to haveto tell how seldom they are washed, because they are so heavy to handle that it is put off month after month, and season after season. A pretty little silkolene coverlet to lay on the foot of the bed, such as you have, or a small eiderdown puff, is very nice, but blankets are the things to sleep under. Now let us put the white spread on."
"But, auntie," objected Margaret, "you haven't tucked anything in! Just see, not the sides nor the bottom! I don't like to have my feet out all night; I like to be tucked in all nice and warm. Shan't we tuck in everything as we go along? That's the way Bridget does when she makes my bed."
Her aunt laughed. "Just wait!" she said. Then she put on the white spread, and smoothed it nicely all over, and told Margaret to stand opposite to her at the side of the bed near the foot, and do as she did.
First she turned the spread back, just as though it was at the top instead ofthe bottom; then she turned back one blanket; then the other; then the upper sheet, and next the lower one, leaving the mattress and pad showing. They raised the mattress, and putting their hands under all the folded back clothes at once, they put them under the end of it smoothly, pushing them well back; then they tucked in the sides. "There," said the aunt, nodding her pretty head at her little niece, "I'd like to see you pull those clothes out at night, as you do when Bridget makes your bed! If you tuck things in one by one sometimes they will come out, but if you tuck them in as we have done they are sure to stay. Now for the top."
She turned over the spread, blankets, and sheet, and laid them flat on the spread, and then turned them under themselves, making a smooth, rather narrow fold, close up to the place the pillows were going to stand.
"If the sheet was mussed I would not do this," she explained. "Then I would just lay all the clothes back under the pillows;but when the sheet is fresh it looks nice this way. Beat up the pillows, smooth them out, and stand them up evenly. Remember, if you have a white spread with a fringe on it and a muslin valance around the bed, the spread is not tucked in at all, but after the bed is finished and tucked in all around, it is laid on and left hanging over sides and foot.
"If, instead of a spread, you have a figured cover, or one made of lace or muslin, you do not use any spread, but put that on over the blankets during the day and take it off at night. A roll covered with the same stuff is used with such a bed cover, and at night this, too, is put away and the pillows brought out from the cupboard and put on when the bed is opened. The bed in the guest-room is like that; you know it has a pretty cover and a roll. But whatever you have, it is always nice to have the bed opened for one at night, the clothes folded smoothly back, the spread laid away and the pillows put down flat, so all one has to do is to slip in."
"I know," Margaret replied. "It makes you feel sleepy to see a bed like that."
"Now let us take the wash-stand," her aunt went on, after she had passed her hands all over the bed as though she were ironing it, leaving it as smooth as a nice white table. "Get the cloths from the bathroom, a clean white one, you know, and a clean colored one; and the soap."
She showed Margaret how to wash everything out neatly, beginning with the tooth-brush mug and soap-dish, and she was told to look carefully and see if they were both clean in the bottom, "because probably they are not," she said. The wash-bowl was washed with soap, especially where there was a greasy streak around it, and the pitcher was filled, and wiped where the water dripped down the front. The dark cloth was used on the rest of the china; it was better to have two cloths of different colors, her aunt explained, to avoid mixing them.
After the stand was finished, and the top wiped off with the white cloth, the cloths were both washed out in the bathroom and put away, with the soap. The towels were folded in the creases they had been ironed in, and pulled into shape and rehung; the wash-cloth was wrung dry and shaken out before it was hung up on the rack. The cake of soap had been washed off in the bowl when that was washed, and it was now put back in the clean dish. "Whatever you forget, Margaret, never forget to wash off the soap!" her aunt warned her.
There seemed a good deal to do to make the room nice even after the bed and wash-stand were done, for the closet was opened and everything taken out and put on chairs around the room, and then put back. The dresses had to be hung up by the loops on the skirt, and the waists which matched hung each on the same hook with its own skirt by the loops at the sleeves. The petticoats had to go by themselves in a separate part of the closet, and the shoeswere all put in pairs in the bag on the door, instead of being left on the floor in piles. Margaret did not like to do these things, but she had to admit that she could dress faster in the morning when she knew just where everything was, and when she could find mates to her shoes in just half a second, instead of having to take a minute or more to hunt them in the corners of the closet on the floor.
Arranging the bureau was still worse than making the closet tidy. All the drawers were emptied out, and everything sorted in heaps and put away. Some pretty boxes without covers were brought from her aunt's bureau and put in Margaret's upper drawer, one for gloves, one for handkerchiefs, one for ribbons, so that everything should be where it belonged, yet as soon as the drawer was opened one could see where everything was. Underclothes were made into neat piles, and arranged in the drawers below, one sort of thing in one pile and another in another, and the stockings laid in a nice row, matestogether, folded and tucked in, ready to go on.
The top of the bureau had many pretty silver ornaments, but they were dull and shabby, and Margaret had to get the silver polish and a bit of chamois and make them shine before they could go on the fresh bureau-cover the aunt put on, and she was given a bit of velvety stuff to tuck in a corner of a drawer, ready to use every day or two, so they would not grow dull again.
When all else was done they brushed up the floor, dusted everything thoroughly, straightened the pictures on the wall and the window-shades, and set the chairs where they would look best. Then Margaret sat down to rest, and her aunt finished the lesson in this way:
"A lady," she began, "no matter whether she is grown up or not, always keeps her bedroom in beautiful order, fresh and dainty, especially the places which do not show, like bureau drawers! Her closet has plenty of hooks, and her gowns are kept together, each on one.Her hats are in their boxes on the shelves, her shoes in their bag. Her bureau is orderly, the silver clean and shining. Her hair-brush is washed at least once a week, to keep it white and fresh, and the comb is never allowed to have bits of hair in it, but is as clean as the brush. Her wash-stand is always perfectly clean and tidy, and nothing is ever left about in the room. Most important of all, the air of her room is always fresh and sweet, because the window is left open at night and often opened during the day for a time. Now this has been a good long lesson to-day—it's almost noon; but if you have learned it, you have not wasted a minute of even this nice bright Saturday. There's a prize offered by this teacher for perfect lessons. Keep your room in order for a month, and see what you'll find on your bureau then!"
"Oh, what?" cried Margaret, running after her Pretty Aunt as she went out into the hall.
"Wait and see!" was all she would say, but Margaret decided to keep the room beautifully tidy for the prize, just the same.
Margaret could hardly wait for the time for her sweeping lesson, because she wanted so much to wear her sweeping-cap. When she heard her mother say one Saturday morning that the lesson that day would be on the care of the parlors and hall, she asked to be excused from the breakfast-table, and ran up and put on her long-sleeved apron and the pretty little cap with the red bow in front, and came down proud and smiling.
The halls and stairs were of hardwood, so Margaret selected from the broom-closet the long-handled floor-brush, the large dust-pan and the small one, a flat wicker beater for the rugs, the bottle of floor oil, and the flannel cloth which was with it,a certain small dish kept especially for the oil, and some of her new dust-cloths. She tried to remember all the things her mother had told her to get, but, after all, she forgot the broom, and had to go back twice for it, the second time because she brought the wrong one. The very best broom, used only on the freshest carpets, had a red tape tied around the handle, so it would not get mixed with the one used in the dining-room, or the rest of the house.
Bridget helped carry out the rugs and put them over the clothes-line, and Margaret gently struck them with the wicker beater till all the dust was out. She knew she would injure them if she pounded as hard as she wanted to, so she was very careful to hit them softly, but to do it so often that they were clean when she was done. She laid them on the back porch, and brushed them with the whisk-broom afterward until they were like new; then they were folded and left in a corner of the dining-room, ready to go down when the halls were done.
Her mother told her to go to the very top of the house and shut the doors of the rooms all the way down that no dust could get in. Then they moved the table and chair and umbrella jar out of the hall, and carried the coats and hats to the closet, and shut them up. The upper hall was very dark with all the doors closed which usually lighted it, so the gas was lit, that the corners might be easily seen. Beginning at the top of the house Margaret swept down the halls and stairs all the way, using her long-handled brush and taking a little whisk-broom, which was also soft for the corners and the stairs, putting the dust into the pan as she went along, especially on the stairs.
Her mother wanted her to let Bridget wipe off the wood with oil, but Margaret begged to be allowed to do at least one floor and the lower stairs, so she would know just how to do it in her very own house, when she had one! She put on a large, strong pair of gloves, put a little oil in the dish from the bottle, dipped inher flannel cloth, and was going to begin when her mother stopped her. "Wring out the cloth," she said; "you are not going to wash the floor, only to wipe it." Then she went away until this part of the work was done, so she might not step on the wood while it was wet, and perhaps spoil the whole floor.
The work was not very pleasant, perhaps, and the oil did not smell very nice, but it was interesting to do something new, and Margaret did not mind it at all. She wiped up one floor and one flight of stairs, and then wiped also the baseboard around the floor and the balustrades of the stairs, and when she was done it all looked so fresh and nice she wished she had done all the halls. However, she put away the oil and cloth and floor-brush, and, setting the front door open to let the air come in and dry the wood and carry away the odor of the oil, she dusted the rest of the halls with her ordinary dust-cloth, wiping the tops of the pictures well, and the hall table and chair, which Bridgethelped her put back. They brought in the step-ladder, too, so that Margaret could get to the chandelier and the top of the doors, and wipe these off thoroughly.
The vestibule had been swept and dusted early in the morning, and there was nothing to do outside, but the glass in the front door looked dingy, and Margaret wiped it off with a clean, damp cloth and polished it with the chamois duster and shook out the lace which hung over it, and dusted the edges of the glass and the wood of the door. Then she ran and got the rugs and spread them down, and called her mother to come and see how beautiful the halls looked.
"Beautiful! I should think so, indeed!" her mother exclaimed. "I could not have done the work better myself. What made you think of the glass in the door? I forgot to tell you about that."
"Oh," said Margaret, "I pretended I was a new maid, and that you were showing me all about the work, and first I said to myself, 'Next, Mary Jane, the front door,'and then I was Mary Jane, and did the front door, you see!"
Her mother smiled. "Well, certainly, Mary Jane does her work thoroughly," she said. "I am sure I shall keep her. Now if you are not tired we will do the parlors."
These two rooms took all the rest of the Saturday morning lesson. The window-curtains and portières were pinned up and put into bags, long, loose ones, which kept them off the floor and out of the dust, but did not muss them. They dusted the piano and large sofa and covered them with strong sheets. They wiped off the book-shelves, and tucked newspapers in and out until all the books were entirely covered and protected. They brushed off the cushions of the chairs with a whisk-broom as they had the sofa, and wiped their woodwork, and then carried them into the dining-room; the sofa-pillows were shaken and beaten and put there also. All the ornaments on the tables and mantels, and the lamps, were wiped and put on the dining-room table.
When the rooms were as empty as possible they shut the doors and sprinkled bran on the carpets just as though they were sewing garden seeds, which Margaret thought was great fun.
"Some people use tea-leaves on their carpets," her mother explained, "and as they are damp they do take up the dust nicely; but they will stain delicate colors so, I think it is safer to use bran, which also takes up dust but never hurts any carpet. Now I will show you how to sweep."
Beginning at one side of the room near the wall, she made long, even strokes with the broom, not bearing on too hard, and sweeping toward the centre all the time. "Don't give little jerky dabs at the carpet," she cautioned, "for that is bad for it, and don't sweep from one side to the other, but always toward the middle. But we forgot to open the window."
Margaret pushed up the one nearest to her and instantly in rushed the wind, scattering bran and dust all over the floor.Her mother hurried to shut it. "You must find out from which way the wind comes before you open the window," she said. "That one did more harm than good. Try the other one."
When this was open they could not feel any breeze at all, and it seemed as though it was not worth opening, but the mother said it was exactly right, for it made a draught, and carried all the dust gently outdoors.
After a time Margaret took the broom and finished the floor, and when the dust lay in a little pile in the middle, her mother held the pan for her and she swept it all up, except a little which refused to come on; this they brushed up with the whisk-broom; they also brushed out all the corners of the room with the whisk and pan, because the broom was so large that it would not go in easily, and a little bit of dust had been left in each one. The carpets looked nice and fresh when they had finished.
"Once in awhile," the mother said, "itis a good plan to have Bridget wipe off the carpets quickly with warm water in which a little ammonia has been put. She squeezes out a cloth almost dry and works quickly, not to wet the carpet too much, and the ammonia brings out the colors and makes the whole look like new. Some housekeepers like to put a couple of tablespoonfuls of turpentine in the water instead of the ammonia, and this is just as good for the carpet, and if there is any fear of moths being in it, it is even better. Every two or three months a carpet ought to be wiped off in one way or the other to keep it nice. Now while we wait for the dust to settle we will make the marble mantel clean. You can get a basin of water, the sapolio, a flannel cloth, and a white cotton one."
They wet the cake of soap a little and rubbed the flannel on it and scrubbed the mantel thoroughly, and then the hearth, rinsing them off and wiping them dry afterward. They also wiped off the fireplace, using a dry cloth here, too, for fear ofrust, and then took a damp one to wipe off the baseboard. If there had been a wood floor, that would have had to be treated just as the halls had been—brushed up with the soft brush, and wiped off with floor oil. And, her mother explained, if the halls had been carpeted Margaret would have had to sweep them with the broom and use the whisk in the corners and on all the stairs, one at a time, carefully.
By this time there seemed to be no dust left in the air, so they wiped the pictures off with a clean duster, especially on the top where Bridget's duster sometimes failed to go. The sheets were taken off the sofa and piano next, and they were lightly dusted again, "just to make sure," Margaret said.
The piano keys proved to be very sticky, and in some spots there were dark marks, as though a little girl had practised with unwashed fingers,—though, of course, no little girl would really do such a thing, the mother said. So Margaret got a little bottle of alcohol and a flannel cloth andsponged off each key. If she had used water on the ivory it would have made it yellow, but the alcohol did not injure it at all.
The chairs were brought in after this, and the other things they had carried out, and all arranged again. Some of the bric-à-brac was not clean in spite of its dusting, and this had to be carefully washed in warm water and wiped dry before it was put in place. "Anything but soiled ornaments," her mother told the little girl. The curtains and portières were taken out of their bags and smoothed, and the bags and sheets folded and put away till the next sweeping day. The parlors looked beautifully fresh and orderly, but something seemed missing. "Why, the palm!" Margaret said at length. "Bridget took it out this morning for its bath and did not bring it back."
They found there had been no time for the bath yet, so Margaret and her mother said they would attend to it. They wet the earth well, and while the water drainedoff into a large pan they washed the leaves, using a soft cloth dipped in a basin which held a cup of water and a cup of milk.
"I did not know plants liked milk," said Margaret, as she helped sponge the large leaves all over, the back as well as the front sides.
"Palms love it," her mother replied, "and it pays to use it on them, for it keeps them green and glossy; you will see how pretty this looks when we have finished it."
Sure enough, when they were done the palm looked as though the leaves had just opened, and they agreed that it should have a drink of milk and water every week. Then they put it back in its pot in the window of the parlor, and the room was all done.
The last thing of all was the lesson the mother repeated for Margaret to remember for all kinds of sweeping and dusting. It was like this:
"First get rid of all the ornaments and furniture in a room; in a bedroom you can put the things from the bureau and mantelon the bed, provided you dust them all well first. The chairs can go into the hall, and over the bureau, table, sofa, and bed, you must put sheets and towels, or even newspapers; never sweep till everything is well covered, or you will have to do double work when you come to dust. Pin up the curtains, and put bran on the carpet, and get somebody to help you push the heavy furniture about so you can sweep under it; there are some people who do not move these things for months, because it is too much trouble, but nice housekeepers always move them every single time they sweep. Use the whisk-broom in all the corners; wipe off the baseboards; dust the pictures thoroughly, and shake out the curtains, and when the room is rearranged, dust all the little things and your rooms will always look as though they had been housecleaned."
"My windows really and truly need washing," said Margaret. "When I sweep my room next week I shall wash them all myself."
"Then you had better learn how now," her mother said. "That will be a good ending for the lesson. To wash windows you need a basin of warm water, a little ammonia, and two clean cloths. Wring out your first cloth in the ammonia-water until it is nearly dry, and rub the glass over and over from one side to the other, and around and around. Wipe dry each pane as you finish it, so it will not be streaked, and when all are done, polish them off with a handful of tissue-paper or a chamois. When you wash plate glass, such as we have in the parlors, do not use ammonia, but instead put a few drops of blueing in the water, and when they are wiped dry go over the glass again with a cloth wrung out in alcohol. Do mirrors in this way if they are very dim; if they are new but dusty, do not use any water, only the alcohol, and polish them with the chamois. Would you like to try one window or one mirror still, this morning?"
Margaret said she thought she wouldrather wait a week, and as it proved to be luncheon time she hurried to put all the things away which they had been using, and get herself ready.
When the Saturday morning came on which Margaret was to learn how to take care of the bathroom, and clean grates, and do other such things, she groaned out loud. So far her lessons had been delightful, but this one sounded as though it would be work instead of fun. However, she put on her long-sleeved apron and out of the little bathroom cupboard she took the flannel cloth, the cotton cloth, the sapolio, the metal polish, a queer little brush of twigs with a long handle and a bottle of disinfectant, all of which stood ready there in a neat row. Then her Other Aunt came into the room, with a big apron on just like Margaret's, and began:
"The bathtub, luckily for us," she said, "is of white enamel, so it is easy to keep clean. But see, all around it there is a streak where the top of the water came after somebody's bath this morning. Now, of course, every single person who uses a bathtub ought to wipe it out afterward; but men don't take the trouble, and women sometimes forget; little girls never do, of course! So the tub has to be washed and wiped out every morning."
"Every single morning?" Margaret asked, grumblingly. "It seems as if that would be too often; it must wear the nice enamel off to wash it so much."
"Not at all," said her aunt; "it is good for it! Get the nice white cloth and a cake of soap,—not the sapolio, because that would scratch it,—and roll up your sleeves. Kneel down by the tub, put in the stopper, and draw a little warm water; wring out your cloth in it, rub it well on the soap, and scrub off the greasy mark first, and afterward wash the tub all over; rinse out your cloth, let out the water, andwash the tub again and wipe it dry. Sometimes, perhaps twice a week, put a little ammonia in the first water so that the tub will have an extra cleaning. If ever you have a really dirty tub to scrub, take gasoline on a flannel cloth and wash with that, and it will be like new; but tubs which are washed out every day never need gasoline.
"If you have a tub lined with zinc remember that needs even more care than a white one, if it is to be kept shining bright. You can scrub it out with gasoline if it seems greasy, then with vinegar, if it is dark, then with metal polish, and so on; zinc tubs are really difficult to care for. A better way is to paint it all over with two coats of white paint and when it is dry enamel it. It costs only a dollar to do it, and it does save so much work; besides, a white tub always looks best of all. Now we will do the wash-stand."
They took off the soap-dish and tooth-brush mug and bottles of tooth powder, because, as the aunt explained, one mustalways wipe under things, not around them. The marble slab and bowl were scrubbed and dried, and the mugs and soap-dish washed, wiped, and replaced. After this they cleaned the closet by pulling the handle and letting the water run while they put in the long-handled brush of twigs and brushed out every inch of china, even down into the pipe as far as possible. Margaret was told that when she used ammonia in the tub she must put some in the closet, too, and once or twice a week a little disinfectant must be poured down to keep the pipe perfectly clean. The woodwork was wiped off with a cloth kept for that purpose, and then they turned to the polishing of the faucets and pipes.
This was hard, but as Margaret and her aunt both worked it made it easier. They put some polishing paste on a flannel and rubbed and rubbed till they could see the metal shining through the paste; then they wiped it off with a dry cloth. "If this was all rubbed a little every singleday," said the aunt, "it would never be such hard work. I should say that this nickel had been just a little bit neglected lately, but see how bright we have made it! Now for the oilcloth on the floor."
They set the hamper and a chair out into the hall, and Margaret went to the kitchen for a basin of milk with a little warm water in it. Out of the cupboard she brought the Japanese seat she had learned she must always use when she got down on the floor, partly to save her dress, and partly because there was a painful disease called sometimes "housemaid's knee," which one could get by kneeling and working on a hard floor with nothing underneath one. When she was all ready her aunt wrung out the cloth for her in the milk, and told her to begin at one edge and work straight across the floor, wiping every part well, but especially under the tub and wash-stand, because those were likely to need it most. "The milk will freshen the oilcloth and make it shine," she said. "Always try and have some when youwipe up an oilcloth, for water alone is not good for it."
When the floor was dry they set in the hamper again, folded the towels neatly, and hung them straight on the rack, and dusted around the window and the wood around the sides of the room. "We are done here," the aunt said, as they put away all the things they had been using, "but the lesson isn't over yet, for while we are in the scrubbing business you may as well learn how to take care of steps and vestibule. You may get the old broom from the kitchen Bridget keeps for this, and ask her to bring a pail of water; you will need the scrubbing-brush, too, and the sapolio, and two cloths; the Japanese seat, some more metal polish, a flannel, and a duster."
Margaret got them all, and brought them out to the vestibule. The door-mat was taken up, shaken well, and hung over the balustrade outside, and, after sweeping out the vestibule, Margaret knelt on the seat and scrubbed the marble floor, especiallyin the corners, and then wiped them dry. The steps had already been swept once that morning, so all they needed was a good bath. A little water at a time was poured over them and swept off with the broom, and while they dried in the sunshine, she rubbed the door handles and bell with polish, and gave them a beautiful finish with chamois leather. The woodwork of the doors was pretty dusty, and before it could be made to look just right it had to be rubbed off with a damp duster and a little stick used in the cracks of the wood. When the rug was laid down once more Margaret and her Other Aunt stood and admired their work.
"A good housekeeper always has nice, clean steps and a well-cared-for vestibule," said the aunt. "They are like a sign-board on the front of a house, telling the sort of people who live inside. That thought ought to make you keep your vestibule in nice order."
"Yes, indeed," said Margaret. "I'd be ashamed to have a sign-board in frontof my steps, saying, 'An untidy girl lives here!' Now what do we do?"
"Well, let us see if we can find any brass to polish. There are the andirons in the hall, for instance, and the shovel and tongs." So out came the metal polish once more, and, after putting down a newspaper, they rubbed them all well. They found out, however, that some of the brass about the house had an enamel finish over it to keep out the air, and all this needed was wiping off with a cloth instead of rubbing, which was a great saving of time; though this brass was not quite as nice looking as that which they rubbed till it shone like a mirror, in the old-fashioned way. It happened that the chandelier in the hall was covered with the enamel, and here her aunt told Margaret she did not dislike it, because it would have been nearly impossible to rub a chandelier clear up to the ceiling every week. They brought out the step-ladder and wiped it off with a dry duster, however, and then they washed the globes nicely in warmwater, and dried them. Globes often got very dusty, the aunt said, and nobody remembered to wash them off instead of merely dusting them once in awhile, and then the family thought the gas must be very poor because the light was dim.
"Now, auntie, what next?" Margaret asked, when this work was done.
"The sitting-room fireplace," her aunt replied. "It is full of wood ashes."
Margaret went once more to the broom closet and got a shovel, a dust-pan, a whisk-broom, a damp cloth, and a newspaper.
There were andirons in the fireplace and the ashes lay all over and around them, so her aunt first helped her lift these heavy things out on the newspaper at one side. Then she told her to sweep most of the ashes into a small pile right in the centre of the hearth, at the back.
"But, auntie, they won't burn any more; why don't I take them right out!" asked Margaret.
"Because they make the fire burn better and last longer. You can take up part ofthem and put them in the scuttle, but leave some, and especially all the bits of charred wood; it would be wasteful to take those away."
Margaret carefully swept up the greater part of the ashes, working from the edges of the hearth toward the middle, and put them into the scuttle. Once she spilled a shovelful, but as a newspaper was spread on the carpet it did not matter. Her aunt told her to be sure and always have plenty of papers ready to use in housework, because in the end they saved so much work. "Suppose you had to sweep up those ashes," she said, "and clean the carpet, too, would not that be a bother! Now if the hearth is clean, wipe it with the damp cloth, and dust off the andirons well. If there had been a grate here you would have had to polish it with the blacking from the kitchen stove. When you have finished you can get more paper and kindling and lay a fire."
They put crumpled paper between the andirons, covering all the ashes which laythere so they did not show. On this they laid kindling, crossed, and then some pieces of wood. When they gathered up the newspaper there was nothing to brush from the carpet, and everything was neat.
"There," said her aunt, "that's all for to-day. Run and wash your face and hands,—they need it!"
Margaret's Saturday morning lessons were interrupted at this point by the spring housecleaning. Everybody was so busy taking up and putting down carpets, hanging curtains and pictures over, putting away winter clothes and getting out summer ones, that the lessons seemed forgotten. The grandmother, however, remembered, and one day she took the little girl around the house while the cleaning was going on, showing her how the work was done. They found the guest-room had been finished, so they sat down there and talked.
"Housecleaning is very different nowadays from what it used to be," she began. "We used to take up all the carpets atonce, and keep everything upset for a week or two, and then get all to rights. Now we take a room at a time, and so do the whole house gradually and comfortably. Perhaps the work is divided, and part done in the spring and part in the fall, to make it still easier. Then we do not take up every carpet every year, as we did. This guest-room carpet, for one, does not need beating and cleaning and putting down again, because the room is not used all the time, and once or twice a year it has a scrubbing with warm water or turpentine or ammonia after it is swept."
"Yes," said Margaret, "I learned about that in my sweeping lesson."
"When this room was cleaned," her grandmother went on, "the curtains were taken down, and the pictures wiped off and put into the storeroom. The furniture was well dusted and put away also, and the bed all taken apart, the mattress beaten gently, the springs dusted and wiped off; the bed slats were washed in hot soap and water, and put away, too. Then the beditself was taken to pieces and washed in warm soap-suds, because being white iron they could not hurt it. If it had been a wooden bed it would have been wiped with a damp cloth. And then, Margaret, what do you think? a brush dipped in turpentine was put in all the corners of the bed and the springs, so that if by any chance a little bug should have crept in there to hide, it would be driven out."
Margaret looked disgusted. "We don't have bugs in our beds," she said, indignantly. "Nice, clean people never do."
Her grandmother smiled. "Even a very nice, clean person may bring home a bug from a crowded street-car," she said. "And if it happens to be on a coat which is thrown on a bed, it may crawl quickly into a corner without anybody's seeing it, and presently the bed will have half a dozen bugs in it. Of course a good housekeeper would never let them stay in a bed a single minute after she finds out they are there, and she always hunts occasionally, at least as often as every few months, so that shemay be perfectly sure everything is all right. If ever you think you are perfectly safe, my dear, and do not look to make sure, you will be the very one to be surprised some day! You must often put the mattress on a sheet on the floor, and look all along the edge and in the corners and under the ties. The spring must be painted with turpentine, especially in the hidden places, and so must the corners of the bed. It is a good plan to use only metal beds with iron spring frames, for bugs like wood much better; they seldom stay where there is none. If you ever find a bug, or the tiny black speck it makes, get the white of an egg and beat it with a teaspoonful of quicksilver, and paint everything with it, and you will have no more trouble.
"After the bed is cleaned and taken down, the floor is to be swept twice over, and the carpet taken away; the paper under it may be swept clean in the yard. The walls are to be swept down with a soft brush, or a broom covered with a duster. The closet is to be emptied entirely, thedrawers, shelves, floor, and baseboard washed well, and the closet floor washed also. The windows must be cleaned and all the woodwork washed in warm water with a little nice soap, and rinsed well. When all is fresh and the floor dry, the paper can be laid, the carpet put down, the furniture wiped again, the bed put together and made, the pictures hung, and the fresh curtains put up, if they are used in summer, and the room will be thoroughly done. All rooms are alike in the way they are cleaned. First do the closets, remember, all the drawers as well as shelves; then, shutting this up, empty the room, and do walls, floor, paint, and windows. If there is a matting down, this must be wiped off with salted water, which freshens it. Now I think we can go down to the cellar for the next part of the lesson."
The cellar proved to be rather chilly, but they stayed long enough to learn a good many things about it. There were two rooms, one for the coal and wood, and one for vegetables and preserved fruit andsuch things. All these, Margaret was told, must be looked after. The fuel room should have several bins, one for kitchen coal, one for furnace coal, and one low one for wood; it was untidy to leave any of these lying in heaps on the floor. The vegetables had to be constantly looked over for fear any should decay, and so bring sickness to the family, who might never know why it came. The preserves must be examined, lest any begin to leak, and the whole place must be kept cool and dry by having a window open a little at the top, with a good bolt or a few nails to keep any one from opening it from the outside. The windows did not need to be washed quite as often as those up-stairs, but they should never be left grimy and dirty. "A good housekeeper always keeps watch of her cellar," said the grandmother. "She sees that the air is fresh, the floor clean, the walls free from cobwebs, and that no rubbish is allowed to accumulate. The wood and coal must not get too low in the bins; the grocer's boxes must be keptchopped into kindling, and, most important of all, every cellar should have a good coat of whitewash every spring to make it all sweet and clean."
Margaret said she thought she knew this part of her lesson now, and that cellars were not so very interesting.
"Well, suppose we take the attic next," grandmother said, smiling; "that is, if you are really certain you can keep your own cellar clean and nice when you have one." Margaret promised to try.
The attic was a nice, dusky room, with some old furniture, trunks, and boxes, rolls of carpet, and bags of pieces. It had a dry, comfortable sort of smell in the air. "I like attics," said Margaret. "I mean to have a great big one some day, all full of interesting things, like the girls in story-books."
"The more things in your attic the more trouble you will have to be a good housekeeper," said her grandmother. "Let us sit down on this sofa for our lesson, and suppose that was really yourown attic. What would you do to put it in order and keep it so!"
"Well," said Margaret, thoughtfully, "I'd move everything out and sweep it; then I'd brush off the walls and wash the windows; then I'd arrange things—and then it would be done."
"Oh, no!" her grandmother replied. "That isn't half. I see you needed the lesson on the attic, as I thought. Now listen:
"You see it is rather dark up here, and so moths love the place, and if it was left to them they would eat up all that is in the trunks. The first thing in cleaning an attic is to empty all the trunks, one at a time, and look everything over. There are pieces of clothing which may be used again which have to go outdoors on the line in the sunshine and be beaten, and furs, especially, require this done frequently. Your pretty little baby things are in one trunk, and those your mother wishes to keep always, so she airs them and refolds the dresses so they will not get discoloredstreaks by lying always one way; the flannels are aired, too, and folded in papers with perhaps a bit of camphor or a moth ball, though these are not as much protection as the constant airing and shaking is.
"In that large trunk there are some old silk dresses, and such things, which are also to be kept. Moths do not touch silks, but these, too, must be taken out and shaken and refolded once in awhile to keep them from cracking in the places where they have laid. Once a year, at least, all trunks must be emptied, wiped out, and relined with fresh papers, the things aired and put back freshly.
"If there are any clothes which are being kept which, after all, are not needed, it is always best to give them away before they are out of style or moth-eaten. It is wrong to keep things one does not want when so many are cold. One always keeps certain things like your mother's wedding-gown, and some handsome pieces of velvet, too valuable to give away, and other thingswhich would be of no use to any one else; but your father's old clothes, and your outgrown dresses, and my heavy winter coat which I shall not wear again, must all go before they are half-spoiled by lying.
"You see there are several piece-bags hanging up; those we must go over, too. We always keep bits of our dresses to patch with, or to use in re-making them. But sometimes we keep the pieces long after the dress is gone, when perhaps some one would like them for patchwork, or to make a pincushion or needle-book out of. The pieces must be sorted often, the woollen ones put by themselves with moth balls, and the silk and cotton ones divided, some to keep, and some to give to anybody who needs them more than we do.
"The roll of old carpet is to go away, too, this time to be made into a kitchen rug. Carpets must not be left in the attic or they will surely make a nice home for moth-families. The broken chairs are to go to-day to be mended, I heard your mother say this morning. Some she willuse again, and the rest she will pass on to somebody who wants chairs and has not enough. This old sofa, of course, she will keep, because some day she will have it re-covered; it is a strong, good piece of furniture, and she knows we can use it.
"The summer clothes are kept in those two large trunks under the window; in a few days they will go down-stairs, and the winter ones, all shaken and beaten on the clothes-line till they are fresh and clean, will be packed away carefully in their places after the trunks have had fresh paper put in them. Do you know how to put away winter clothes, by the way?"
Margaret said she did not think she did, so they stopped the lesson for a minute to put this in.
"After the things are aired well, fold each dress or coat or suit of clothes up by itself, and pin it snugly in newspapers, which moths do not like. Tie a strong string around the bundle to lift it by, and paste a slip of paper on the top, and write on this plainly just what is inside. If youhave anything very nice to put away, such as a broadcloth suit, put it in a new paste-board box and paste a strip of paper all around the edge of the cover; use good mucilage, and the moths cannot possibly get at it. Put furs in paper bags after they are clean, and hang them from the rafters. Hats and such things may go into boxes, and you can lay a paper over each box before putting on its cover, to keep the dust out. Summer clothes do not need so much care; just fold them neatly and put them in a nice clean trunk, and they will take care of themselves. Now do you think you know how to keep a cellar and attic in good order? Suppose you make up a rule to give me."
Margaret thought a moment. "Keep the cellar clean," she said at length, "and give away the things in the attic."
Her grandmother laughed. "Keep both the cellar and attic clean, and don't hoard uselessly," she corrected.
Margaret's teachers held a meeting before her next lesson. They could not decide whether she should be taught to wash and iron or not.
Her Pretty Aunt said, "Certainly not! She will never need to know. Even on a desert island she will find some Woman Friday to do her laundry work!"
"But," suggested her Other Aunt, "suppose she had a very beautiful thin dress to be washed, and had a very poor laundress to do it who might spoil it; don't you think she would wish she knew how to do it herself?"
"Besides," said her mother, "however could she teach an ignorant servantto wash and iron if she did not know how?"
"Of course she must know," said her grandmother, sternly. "I will teach her myself."
So on Friday night Margaret made up a bundle of clothes as she was told; "samples," grandmother called them, because there were some of every sort of thing found in a regular washing; these they took down to the laundry.
"The first thing is to sort the clothes," the lesson began. "Put the white, starched things in one pile; the bed and table linen in another; the flannels by themselves; the stockings by themselves; the handkerchiefs and colored things in two more piles.
"Many people do not soak clothes over night, and it is not necessary to do so, but I am going to teach you to do it because it is the easiest way. If you are ready, look over the white things first for spots. Coffee, tea, and fruit stains must have boiling water poured through them till theydisappear. Rust must be rubbed with lemon juice and salt and laid on a new, shiny tin in the sunshine till the spot disappears; some people use acid, but this is apt to eat the cloth. Blood stains must be soaked in cold water; get the handkerchief you had on your cut finger and put it in this pail. Now wet the white things only, rub on a little soap, and get out every spot; put them in nice rolls, the soapy side turned in, and lay them all in the warm water in these two tubs, clothing in one, and table and bed linen in the other—never put the two together. Do not soak the flannels or they will shrink; nor the colored things, or they will fade; nor the stockings.
"The handkerchiefs, well soaped and rubbed and squeezed, go into a pail of water all alone with a tablespoonful of kerosene to kill any germs of cold in the head which may be in one of them, and would spread to all the handkerchiefs. The oil boils out and does not smell after they are ironed. That is all for to-night,but be up bright and early in the morning, for only lazy people hang out their washing at noon."
The next day Margaret came into the laundry with her biggest apron and her sleeves rolled up and pinned to her shoulders, ready for work.
"Flannels first," she was told. "Draw two tubs of warm water, one just exactly as warm as the other. Put in some nice white soap and make a good suds, and then take it out and put in the flannels; rub and squeeze them with your hands till they are clean, but never rub them on the wash-board, or put any soap directly on them or they will grow hard and stiff; as soon as they are clean, wring them out and rinse them in the second water. The reason why they must be washed and rinsed in the same sort of water is that if they were dropped from cold to hot or hot to cold water they would shrink all up and be spoiled at once. A little ammonia or borax in the rinsing water makes them soft and white. You cannot take too much care inwashing flannels, for they are expensive and easily spoiled; think how often your winter undervests are shrunken before they are half-worn, and how once Bridget spoiled a pair of beautiful new blankets she washed for the first time, all because the two waters were not just alike, and because she rubbed soap on them and made them hard and yellow. Now you may wring yours out with your hands and hang them out on the line."
When Margaret came in again her grandmother had put the white apron into the water the flannels had been rinsed in, for its first bath. She said it was still fresh and warm and soapy and ought not to be wasted. The first tubful, however, she had thrown away as useless any longer. She told Margaret to put a little more soap on the apron and gently rub it on the board, turning it over and over till it was clean; then she dropped it in the wash-boiler, which her grandmother had filled with fresh water and put on the fire. The linen was washed in the same way, rubbing andturning it till it was all fresh, and putting it in the boiler. The water was allowed to boil up well for a moment, the clothes pushed down and turned around with a stick as they rose to the top. They were lifted out with the stick into a tub of fresh, hot water, and rinsed till all the soap was out, and dropped in a tub of cold water which had a little blueing in it. Here they were rinsed once more, and wrung out dry and then put out in the sunshine.
Bridget had hung a low clothes-line for Margaret between two small trees, so she could easily reach it. The clothes-pins were in one of her aprons, in a pocket made by turning up the bottom almost half-way to the belt, so none could fall out. This apron was made of heavy ticking, and none of the water reached her dress as she carried out the wet things to the line.
When she came in this second time she found her grandmother ready to make starch. As there were only a very few things to stiffen she measured a heaping tablespoonful of dry starch, wet it withjust as much cold water, and added a cup of boiling water, with a half-teaspoonful of sugar, to make it extra nice and glossy. The white apron was dipped in this and wrung out; then more water was added till the starch was like milk, and the pillow-cases and gingham apron were dipped in.
"I never starch table or bed linen," said her grandmother, "but you may, if you wish to, if you use very thin starch. I know a better way to make such things look nice, however, and when we iron I will teach it to you. Now we must finish the washing. Wash and rinse the stockings in hot water, but do not boil them; wash and rinse and boil the handkerchiefs by themselves. When these are all on the line, and you have made the laundry tidy, you can rest for an hour, while the irons get nice and hot, and then we will take the second half of the laundry lesson."
The sunshine had made everything dry and sweet when Margaret brought in the clothes from the line and heaped them onthe laundry table. She spread the napkins and pillow-cases out smoothly, and from a nice white bowl of clean water she sprinkled them, one at a time, and smoothed out the creases as her grandmother showed her. "The fewer wrinkles, the easier ironing," she said. Each was made into a tidy roll and laid in the basket again. The handkerchiefs were sprinkled also, and made into one roll and laid by them. The flannels were still damp, and so just ready to iron as they were, and so were the stockings. As the irons were hot, Margaret now spread the ironing-pad of flannel over the table, and laid the ironing-sheet very smoothly over it. She put the iron-stand on one corner on a square, white tile, so the heat would not burn the cloth underneath and got out a thick, soft holder.
She also got out the ironing-board, because the flannel petticoats were easier to manage on this than on the table. She tried the iron by holding it to her cheek, and found it quite warm. Then she wetthe tip of her finger, as she had seen Bridget do, and quickly touched it. It seemed just right, hot, but not burning, so she began on the stockings, and ironed them flat, on the right side, turning each one over and pressing both sides. She did not turn in the toes, because some of them needed to be darned, and whoever did it would have to turn each one back to see if there were any holes in it; but she made them into pairs, folding each once, and hung them on the little clothes-horse standing before the fire.
The flannel skirts she slipped over the skirt-board, and ironed them by beginning at the hem and working toward the belt, pulling each one around the board to bring the unironed part up. These, too, she hung near the fire, because flannels take so long to grow perfectly dry.
The table napkins were a real pleasure to do. Her grandmother taught her why they needed no starch—because if they were ironed over and over, with a good hot iron, first on one side and then on theother, they grew a little stiff, and became very glossy and beautiful, like satin, while if starch was used they easily got too stiff. These were folded very carefully indeed, so the edges exactly matched, and laid in a pile by themselves.
By the time these were done the iron was again cool and had to be changed for the second time for a hot one. Linen, the grandmother explained, needed hot irons, but one should always be very careful not to have them so hot that there is any danger of scorching, because linen is very expensive, and easily ruined.
The towels were ironed exactly as the napkins had been, on both sides, and again and again, till they were dry and shining. Then they were folded carefully, not in four narrow folds, but in three parts, so they would "look generous," grandmother said. The side edges had to match exactly, and the lower edge had to be a tiny bit longer than the rest, so that when hung on the towel-rack it would be perfect. This took time, but when once Margaret learnedhow they should look, she said it was no trouble.
The white apron also took some time to do because it had to be polished, and the gatherings and ruffles were bothersome, but still it was done presently, and also the gingham apron, which was easier. The handkerchiefs were only play, but they had to be carefully folded, so the edges would be even. At last everything was done, and there was a whole clothes-horse full of beautiful clothes. It looked like a blossoming tree, all white and fragrant, and Margaret felt very proud and happy as she ran to call the family to come and admire.
"I knew she could learn!" said her grandmother, nodding to her mother, as they all came in to look and praise the little laundress.
"I think," said the Pretty Aunt one day, "we must be coming to the end of the Saturday morning lessons. We have had the kitchen and dining-room, the bedrooms, halls, and parlors, the bathroom, cellar, attic, and vestibule. I really can't think of anything else to teach Margaret about the care of the house."
"Why," exclaimed the Other Aunt, "I can! I can think of five or six things you have not said a word about; all important ones, too!"
"How nice!" laughed the Pretty Aunt, "because now you can give the lesson!"
Margaret had felt disappointed whenshe thought the lessons were over, for she liked to learn something new each week; so when she was told to put on a clean apron and be ready in half a minute, she ran off in a hurry.
Her aunt was in the upper hall when she appeared, with the door of the linen closet open, and she told Margaret they would begin here.
"This little room is the one good housekeepers are especially fond of," she began. "Clean, white linen, polished and beautiful, is a joy to look at and handle, and every woman is proud if she has a quantity, all nicely kept. Let us begin with the shelves, taking them in order, and see what is on each."
The top one held blankets, each pair folded together smoothly and pinned up in a clean, strong piece of white cotton cloth, and labelled. The first label read, "Guest-room blankets," and when they were opened there lay a fresh, soft, fleecy pair, with a lovely border of pale pink, and edges of broad pink ribbon.
"This is your mother's very best pair of blankets," began her aunt. "They are cut in two and bound alike at each end, you see; they have never been washed or cleaned yet, so they are still very white and soft. By and by they will begin to look a little soiled, and then they will be cleaned perhaps, once or twice, and presently they will be washed, and they will not be nearly as nice as they are now, though well-washed blankets should still be fleecy and white."
"'Soft, warm water, with suds of white soap,'" murmured Margaret, reviewing her laundry lesson; "'rub with your hands, rinse in the same sort of water as you used in washing, with a little borax or ammonia, and they will look like new.'"
"Splendid!" said her aunt. "I see you can wash blankets to perfection. But even so, some day there will be new ones for the guest-room, and these will be on one of the family beds. The next two or three bundles, you see, are clean, washed blankets, in pairs, laid away till they areneeded. All blankets have to be put on the line in the sunshine frequently whether they are washed or not, or they may be eaten by moths.
"Here are a few clean comfortables next, on this second shelf, done up like the blankets. These have to be washed, too, and are more difficult to manage than blankets, because they are so heavy; they have to be aired often to keep them sweet, for the cotton holds odors easily. Then come the white spreads, the heavy Marseilles in one pile, the lighter ones in another, and the single ones and double ones kept separate.
"The third shelf holds towels, you see. This pile is for the best ones; notice how beautifully they are ironed and folded, and how the embroidered initials stand out. The ordinary bedroom towels come next; see how many your mother has, and how each kind is by itself: the hemstitched ones in one pile, the plain huckaback in another; those with colored borders in this one, and the bath towels in that. Anyone could come in and get a towel in the dark, sure of taking just the right one. You must remember always to keep your own towels just this way; too many people mix them in in any careless fashion, and do not take the trouble to have them arranged neatly, but it's the best way to do.
"The sheets and pillow-cases are in these deep drawers. This top one has the double sheets and the best linen ones; notice how they lie in piles, each kind by itself, just like the towels. They are all marked on the narrow edge, and so they can be recognized at a glance; the large sheets have your mother's full name. In this next drawer are the single bed sheets, marked with her first initials, and her last name. The servants' sheets have only her three initials. You see how easy it is to tell which is which. The pillow-cases are marked in the same way, and put in piles. You must be sure when you have a washing to put away that you do not put the clean things on top of each pile, and then take them off again to use at once; put thingson top and take them off the bottom of the pile, so they will all be used in turn. Now for the table-linen."
This was in another drawer, and Margaret exclaimed when she saw how beautiful it was. The cloths were like satin, the napkins which matched lay in dozens by them; the every-day cloths and napkins were by themselves, and the small lunch-cloths had a pile of their own. The doilies were in a smaller drawer, all in piles, too, and the pretty centrepieces were fastened around stiff paper made into rolls.
"If you ever have lovely table-linen you will want to keep it nicely," said the aunt. "I think it is high time you had some, too. I believe in the old German custom of making a linen-chest for each girl; so learn your lesson well, and when your birthday comes who knows what you'll get? Perhaps a lunch-cloth or some embroidered napkins!"
"I'd like some towels, too," Margaret said, soberly. "I guess I'd like to have some linen every birthday."
"Very well, I'll remember," said her aunt as they closed the drawers. "And when you really begin to fill your chest I will make you some pretty bags of lavender to lay among your sheets and pillow-cases to make them smell sweet. We will go down-stairs now."
The pantry shelves were looked over next; in the china-closet in the dining-room everything was in order; the dishes neatly arranged on white paper, with pretty scalloped flouncings hanging over the front. The plates were piled in sets, the platters were together, the glasses and small dishes on the sides of the closet where the shelves were short. There was really nothing to be done here, so they went into the kitchen.
The pantry where the pots and pans stood had rather dingy papers, and they decided to have a good cleaning. They took everything off and washed the shelves with warm water and borax and wiped them dry, and put on fresh papers. The tins and dishes which were seldom used,were then arranged on the highest shelf, and those which were used every day were put lower down. The little things, such as the skimmer, the small sieve, the egg-beater, and the spoons, were hung on nails driven into the edge of the shelf which was over the baking-table in the kitchen, where stood also the cups, bowls, and plates used in cooking, within easy reach. When they were done, the aunt said, "Always watch for ants in the pantry, and roaches and water-bugs in the sink. Ants hate borax, so you can put that on the shelves in all the corners, and it will help keep them away. Roaches come to the sink for food, and you must see to it that they do not find it. Keep it perfectly clean and scalded out, especially at night, and never let the sink-basket have any crumbs in it. If, in spite of everything, the bugs do come, put insect powder on the corners of all the woodwork and use washing-soda to flush the drain every day, and they will get discouraged and leave your house for somebody else's, where there is somethingin the sink for them. Now for the refrigerator."
Margaret helped empty this entirely, setting the things in it on the table, and putting the ice in a large dish. They looked underneath at the pan into which the ice drained and found it half-full, so they emptied it. Then the lesson began as usual.
"You see all these little covered bowls and plates with bits of food on them. We never put nice china dishes in a refrigerator, for fear of breaking them; this heavy, yellow ware is just the thing, and a saucer can go over each bowl. We do not put anything in which has a strong odor, such as onions or cheese, or they would make everything taste like themselves. Butter must be in a covered crock, and milk in bottles with a tight top. Warm food must never go in, or it will waste the ice. Let us look in the top; you see there is a nice piece of ice, all covered up with a bit of old blanket, so it will last. You must watch and see that you do not take more ice than you really need and use it economically.Some people never cover it at all, because it keeps the food colder if it is left so, but often it is unnecessary; there may be little food in the box, and that would keep as well if it were not quite as cold. Now you may get a basin of water, two clean cloths, and the borax, and I will show you how to clean a refrigerator."