LEARNING AND HELPING

"She was one of those persons who possess, as their exclusive patrimony, the gift of practical arrangement. It is a kind of natural magic that enables these favoured ones to bring out the hidden capabilities of things around them; and particularly to give a look of comfort and habitableness to any place which, for however brief a period, may happen to be their home."

—Hawthorne

ONE would like to take the person Hawthorne is describing on a camping party or a picnic. She would be equally agreeable to stay at home with, or to find at home when one came in. It is a sign that there is such a person in a house when the whole family have to know where "Mother" is, as soon as they get inside the front door. Sometimes it is a sister or an aunt, sometimes a father, who has to be found before one can settle down, but whatever the relationship, it is the person who makes us feel at home.

It is odd, is it not, the way we are always saying that we "feel at home," or "not at home," or "homesick," or that something is "homelike"? What do we mean by it, anyway? When people try to tell what home is, they usually make poor work of it. It is not in the least necessary to tell what it is; a home is a thing to have, not to talk about. All I want to say here is that homes are not houses and furniture, but people. There is an Indian proverb which says, "The hearth is not a stone but a woman." Fathers and brothers have their own share in making their homes, but mothers and daughters are more apt to take care of their homes and stay in them. So it has come to be that making homes is a special and particular work of women.

Whatever work a girl may hope to do in the future, she will live somewhere, and whatever that somewhere is like, it should be as homelike as she can make it. This is partly on account of a good many people she will find who need a little pleasantness and comfort given to them, and partly because she will not be comfortable and happy herself unless she has something homelike about her. This is why it is a great advantage to be a woman; what power we have to make homes, we carry with us. Hawthorne says that a woman, who is especially gifted in this way, can make a home of any place, even though she is there but a few hours—a hotel bedroom, for instance. The Indian proverb, however, goes even further. It says, not that a woman can make a home, but that she is a home. That is, we should have the power to make people feel at home wherever we are.

Most women, though, have something more to make a home out of than themselves. They have little houses or big houses to keep. When they begin to do this they find themselves very glad of all the cleverness, and learning and experience which they can gather. It is much easier to do some of this gathering before one has a house of one's own, and ways of doing it lie all round us, often unrealized and unused.

Through most of our teens, school is the principal thing. Whether we are interested in it or not, it is then our recognized occupation. Nowadays, there are opportunities in many schools to learn things helpful in housekeeping. They are not only to be found in cooking and sewing classes. Chemistry and physics, which may one or other of them be required of you for college entrance examinations, are also of excellent service in housekeeping. Some of you will be in schools where you can choose to some extent what courses you take. In that case, do not say chemistry is "messy," and physics is "too hard," but just tussle with them for the sake of your home-making, as a boy would who knew he was to be a physician or an engineer. I hardly dare to mention it, but detested arithmetic, learned in school, often afterward saves the peace of a household and the happiness of the housekeeper. Personally, I have found what geometry I know useful on many unexpected occasions. But to turn to a more agreeable subject, I can recommend any course in light carpentry, for you will almost surely like it if you try it, and no one thing is more useful in a house—except perhaps, arithmetic.

If, on the contrary, you are in a school where there are no choices, or if you are obliged to narrow down to the requirements of a college entrance examination, the only thing to do is to keep in mind the things which will be especially useful to you—physical sciences, mathematics, manual training, domestic science; study some of them if you can, and, besides that, see what you can learn at home. I do not mean that the other things which you study at school are not useful in home-making; they are. It is just that certain things are part of the special training for this work, and those named above are the ones more usually taught in schools.

We turn now to the preparation which can be given to us, and which we give ourselves, at home. Ideally, this is the place to learn home-making.

If we have a home, whether it is a palace or a room in a tenement, some one in it "keeps house." If that person is one's mother, then is one the normal and fortunate person who learns in the normal and fortunate way, from being with her. If she does some of the work of the house herself, and we help her, we learn far more than we realize until some moment of emergency comes and we find that our eyes, and hands, and noses, and muscles are trained for service.

If your mother merely directs the affairs of her house and the details are carried out by others, watch how she does it, for this may be the way in which you will keep house; and persuade her to let you try it, sometime when she is to be absent. In this case there will be some one else in the house from whom you will need to take a few lessons. It will perhaps be a housekeeper, or a very trusted maid. Make friends with her and ask her questions. If she sees you want to learn and not to criticize she will become the most delighted, flattering teacher you ever dreamed of.

If your mother does part or all of the housework it will probably be one of your appointed duties to assist her. If it should happen, as is sometimes the case, that you are not required to help with the housework, then be a woman, and not a lap dog, and ask to help. In the proper story-book, a mother's response to such a request would be an affectionate answer and much patient teaching, and I think, in many, many cases, that is the reply a daughter does receive. But just suppose that you are one of the other cases. I can imagine a variety of answers you might get to "May I help?" One of them might be, "Go out of the kitchen, you'll spoil your clothes"; and others might be, "Don't bother me, I'm busy," or "Don't interrupt," or, "I'd rather do it myself than put up with your clumsiness."

The first thing to do when one gets an answer like this is to go away. The second is according to temperament; if you feel hurt and discouraged, then, try not to, or if you feel that your responsibility is ended by the refusal of your offer, then don't think that; it isn't true. Think rather, that you may have offered just at the wrong moment—you will find when you begin to keep house yourself that there are a good many wrong moments—or that there may have been some simpler thing you could have done which would have been a greater help. We might also consider the possibility that our way of helping has not been quite agreeable on some former occasion. Perhaps, alas, we may be clumsy, or we may be slow, or we may be more nuisance than help just at first. After we have gone away and thought ourselves quiet, then we must do that most difficult and heroic of things—try again to help the person by whom we have been rebuffed.

You see I speak entirely of your side in this matter. That is because neither you nor I may be permitted to pass judgment on your mother. She is like some one about whom we have read a short story, we only know one little period of her life and only a few of her thoughts and feelings even then. She must always remain a bit of a mystery to us, because we can never know very much about what happened before we were born.

There is a thing which makes helping mothers difficult, that one must guard oneself against, especially because it is so natural and so insidious. It is especially a snare when we learn about housekeeping outside of our homes, though it very frequently lies in wait for us anyway. It is the desire to reform our homes and our mothers, and that instantly. I venture to say that the trouble with this lies in the instantly. The ways you are taught at school may be better than mother's ways; but, on the contrary, mother's ways may be the result of practical experience, and they may be an adaptation to the practical needs and tastes of her family. It may be that the things you learn are better adapted to your own generation and your own future housekeeping than they are to your parents' tastes and needs. You are the future, but remember that your parents are the past, without which you would never have been. There is this also to consider, that as we grow older, we grow toward orthodoxy. We place our faith in the "new thing" of the hour, and in a little while, find that it was proved impracticable ten centuries ago. While we are deciding that the old people we know are narrow-minded old fogies, behold, some girl or boy tells us that the reason we do not believe in their theory of the universe is because we are "old-fashioned." To you, young, thoughtful, and alive, belongs the belief that you are born to make the world better; and this is true. Not, however, by tearing down is this accomplished, but by building up. And the building is done by laying in a lifetime one small stone in the structure, ages old, which has its foundations in the deeps of the universe, and upon whose finished spires shall shine the glory of Heaven.

But there—it is of some practical ways of helping mother, and thereby learning housekeeping, that I wish to speak just now. They belong to the class of things called little services, but I can assure you, they are great, in tact, and helpfulness and love. They are homely; but they are just the sort of things angels would like to do. Dusting is one of them, the little everyday dusting which makes such a difference in the tidiness of the house, and perhaps takes five minutes, or less, to a room. With this goes taking up crumbs in the dining room, with a sweeper or dustpan and brush, and arranging flowers and watering plants. Tidying means removing dirt and litter, and putting each thing in the place where it belongs. Tidiness is not a housekeeper's superstition; it is a mechanical device for invoking the spirit of restfulness.

Another homely thing always needing to be done is mending. It is, by nature, incidental work, and therefore it is especially grateful to the housekeeper to have it done by an incidental helper. I do not mean merely darning stockings and sewing on buttons though that is the larger part of it, but also, mending which is done with hammer and tacks, or glue, or perhaps a varnish brush. I mean all those odd jobs which pursue the busy housewife in the hours when she ought to rest. Get your mother to write a list of these odd jobs on her memorandum pad, as she sees or thinks of them during the day, then see how many of them you can find a way to do.

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

Tidying

If your household does not include a waitress, there is a class of small services which need to be done before each meal. One is not quite so sure to be at home at meal times, as if one were a boy, but one can arrange to be. Certain things are needed on the table which come from the refrigerator or the cellar, cool things which should be put on at the last moment. The cook has already fifty things to do at the last moment, and few things relieve her more than to know that she need not think of the table until she puts the meal upon it. I saw a girl, once, looking at the dining-room table, and tapping out some sort of rhythm with four finger-tips against her cheek. She owned up that she was saying to herself, "Bread, butter, milk and water"—four things which she had made it her business to see on the table before each meal. Sometimes there were jelly and pickles and other relishes to put on, but these four, which she counted off on her fingers and her cheek, were the essentials.

Wiping and putting away the dishes is a small service which one can do often and acceptably. It is elsewhere described, but is also mentioned here because it belongs to this list of opportunities.

If your mother, or whoever does the cooking in your house, likes to be helped with it, there will be many little things which you can do, like beating eggs for instance, or shelling peas. No one can tell you what they are, though, except the person who is cooking.

How many, and which of these small services you are able to do, depend on how long your school hours are, and on what sort of health you have, and on how much of the housework is done by the family. It is not fatal if you do not do any of them, provided your reason is not laziness or selfishness.

There is another group of small things, helpful, but more personal to yourself, which you are less likely to be prevented from doing. You probably have a room, or half a one, and a closet, and bureau drawers, and certainly clothes, which are your own. Possession means responsibility. If we find this sharp-cornered foundation-stone of truth in the depths of our own bureau drawers, it is less likely to fall heavily on us later on. Our own things and the places in which they are kept should be our own care, and not another's.

It may not be your business to do the periodical sweeping in your room, but the daily dusting and tidying the household authorities will be glad to have you do.

You cannot find a better way to learn to make beds than to make your own, for in that case you get the benefit of the insufficient airing or the crease, or the crumb, which you have let go. If, for some reason, you cannot make your bed every day, try to do it on Sunday. It is a custom of gentleness from one woman to another.

Keeping a room in order is accomplished by the same means that any tidiness is brought about, that is, by having a place for things and seeing that they are there. The things that most girls want in their rooms are apt to be hard to keep in order. They are things which our heartless elders call "trash." I would not undertake to say what a girl's room should or should not contain, but I would ask her not to have so many things that they are either never neat or else a tormenting care; not to hang things on her walls which are vulgar or silly; and not to leave her clothes and little adornments for other people to put away. Keeping one's own possessions in order is a reasonable service to others, and one of the natural, gradual ways of learning home-making.

Will you turn over a few pages and read the suggestions about the fittings and care of closets you will find in the chapter on upstairs work? Bureau drawers, however, are not mentioned elsewhere than here, for I consider them the private property of individuals, to be cared for by their owners and not to be intruded upon by others except in emergency. Articles put in drawers should be classified as far as possible, and things used least often should be put in drawers least easy to get at. Suppose, for instance, a bureau has four drawers, the lowest is probably deepest and requires stooping to open it. In it can go best waists, and sashes, and girdles, and scarfs, and fluffy objects which should lie loosely. In the third drawer underclothes might be put; to be folded and packed close does not hurt them. As they are things which go into the wash, they should be worn in rotation, and this is accomplished without thought or trouble if we pile all the garments of the same kind together and always put the newly washed ones on the top or the bottom of the pile, and take the ones we are to wear from the opposite place. It takes a great many troublesome words to describe this action, which is very simple, and almost immediately becomes mechanical. In the second drawer of this possible bureau might go collars, and handkerchiefs, and gloves, and ties, and things which must be kept uncrumpled. If one has ample room, pretty boxes are good to keep these things in, and they make for neatness. If one must economize space, it is better to have some squares of silk, or pretty coloured linen or silkoline in which one's possessions can be laid flat, and then the four corners of the wrapper folded over upon them. I have found these more convenient to get into and more easily washed than regular veil and necktie and glove cases.

The top drawer is the one which locks most securely, because it is under the top of the bureau, instead of under another drawer which might be removed. It is therefore the one in which people usually keep the things which they especially value, and their pocketbooks or handbags. If a part of the top drawer is set apart for the collars, ties, handkerchiefs, hair ribbons and belts which are in immediate use, it will assist immensely to keep a room and bureau top neat. One does not wish to put things, which have been worn, away with things which are perfectly fresh, and one wants the belt and ribbons which one wears for two or three days in succession close at hand. If they are folded or rolled up to keep them shapely, and put in a space in the top drawer which has been chosen for the purpose, time and tidying will be saved. The space will need emptying out frequently, but that can be done on those Saturdays when one is seized with a sudden clearing-up fit.

Care of our clothes is not directly related to housekeeping—it is only a collateral relation. A neat house, however, is marred if the housekeeper herself is untidy. For our immediate purpose, though, the point is, that the habit of caring for our clothes, and the deftness and inventiveness which such care requires, are qualities constantly useful in housekeeping. I met a woman once, who boasted that she did not know how to hold a needle, but give her a hammer and nails and she could do anything. I happened to see her later with a hammer and nails, and she was clutching the hammer close to the head, and pounding in nails with more disregard for the help of leverage, than if she had been a cave-woman pounding a stake with a stone. Some people can hammer who cannot sew; and some people can sew who cannot hammer; some people can do neither, and some people can do both. But the fact remains that if we can use our hands and heads cleverly for one thing, we have a better chance of using them cleverly for another; and blacking shoes, and binding skirts, and mending stockings, and putting in ruchings, are steps in an apprenticeship to more interesting and clever work. Incidentally, too, we are giving ourselves that exquisite daintiness which is one of a girl's charms.

At least one means of learning something of housekeeping lies open to every creature. That means is an observing interest. We never remain entirely ignorant of the things in which we are interested. We gather ideas about them everywhere, and in the most unexpected and unintentional places. If we sit at tables where the meals are carefully served and well cooked, that privilege teaches many things about serving and cooking. There is as much to learn in a cheap restaurant, if we watch how things are done, and think out the reason for the methods. If we watch a servant or a housewife doing work well, we need never again be entirely ignorant of how to do that work. If we read a book or hear a lecture, or overhear a scrap of talk in a street car which contains a thought to help us or an unusual method to be tried, it ought to stick to our memories as if magnetized. Think in the morning that you want to know something about the cats in Thibet, and almost surely before night, you will have heard or read something about them. We know how often this is true of remote and unusual affairs; it is infinitely more true of intimate daily ones. It is a great blessing; a means of getting knowledge without other struggle than remembering what we want to know. If it is not a royal road, it is at least a royal by-path, to learning.

Some day, you will discover that you are "grown up," and if you have learned what you could and helped when you could, you will discover, too, that you have the gift and power to make a home—that you are a woman, who is not a stone but a hearth.

PART III
MY HERITAGE

I
MY HERITAGE

"The lot has fallen unto me in a fair ground, yea, I have a goodly heritage."

THERE is a deep surprise and joy in these words, which grows to exultation. They might have been spoken by one who had climbed a height to look for the first time on the place where henceforth his life and work were to be, and saw in the curve of many-folded, blue hills, white roads with crops warming in the fields on either hand, woods and streams, laden orchards, and vines in garlands.

"It is a fair ground." Then—"yea, I have a goodly heritage." There is joy in beauty, and in possession—and more than that. There is exultation in the vision of seed-time and harvest, of growing beauty and usefulness, of life renewed; and in the strength and power to work for all this and to achieve it.

It is not fanciful to say that a woman may regard her heritage in some such way as this. The childhood, and the homes of the world are hers, and her work is the making of men and women. If she chooses to say that God has exalted His handmaiden, who is able to deny it?

The particular work of women is not just like any other work; indolence and failure in doing it, however, have been too often excused on account of this fact. Their work is yearly becoming more and more allied with other commercial, intellectual and moral activities. Even their housekeeping is no longer a disagreeable thing kept out of sight as much as possible, as the plumbing used to be. Its varied problems are being recognized and studied. Nobody denies that they are difficult, but it is not reasonable to suppose that they are the most difficult in the world, nor that they are unsolvable. One reason why they are difficult is that they are an attempt to establish order and law, without destroying individuality and freedom; and another reason is that the housewife exercises her profession chiefly for the benefit of her own family. If the physician had to doctor himself, the preacher preach to his wife, and the teacher teach his own children, their professions might be in as much confusion as the housekeeping profession is. The efforts to do away with these difficulties by having families live together, eat together, or do anything else in a wholesale way, have not succeeded and have led in a wrong direction. What is wanted is a way to preserve the separate family and the separate family home, not a way to make them into something else.

Difficulty is a characteristic of their work which should appeal to women. They are seeking to do difficult things. They are seeking to prove that there is no profession, nor labour, nor art in which they cannot succeed. In many cases they have succeeded admirably; it has not proved the point they set out to prove however, but another. What they have proved by their activities is that they are amply able to solve the problems and accomplish the organization of the work which is especially their own. They cannot get it believed that they are equal to anything while their own work lies undone—while they wilfully leave the home or helplessly stay in it.

Things which we are proud to do in other fields, we neither see nor do in our own. For the sake of a college degree, or a paper to be read before a club, we delve in difficult books; yet we do not study, nor even read about our own work. We would be proud to invent a flying machine, or a mud-digger, yet most of the inventions to aid housework are made by men. We aspire to be stockbrokers, merchants, accountants, bankers—while housekeeping finance has become a stock joke. We are eager to study social problems and take up settlement work, but we do not think it worth while to study our own cooks. We feel in ourselves a power to organize and betake us to the club, and leave the cook and the nursemaid to organize our homes and our children's lives. We have raised the woman's work of teaching and of nursing into excellent professions, and yet we are ready to sit down and cry before the difficulties of housekeeping.

Unpleasant and monotonous things, which we claim make our own work unbearable, we ignore in occupations which we covet or admire. Under Mr. Kipling's influence we cultivate an enthusiasm for machinery and engineering, but we neglect his constantly emphasized lesson that the digging of a canal or the building of a bridge involves humble toil and unsightly details far beyond any we may encounter in peeling potatoes or washing dishes. We look at the wide, slow waters which have been let into the land and they silence us; we follow with our eyes the great span of the bridge and hold our breath as if it were music. It is right that we wonder and admire. They are great things. But see that woman beside you who is looking at the bridge with such especial interest. Is the bridge any more wonderful than her son, who built it? He is what she has built. It seems to me, one might peel several tons of potatoes as a thank-offering for a son.

But I will not take such high ground as to suppose that we might be willing to do some hard and disagreeable things just because we feel very earnestly the privilege and glory of being women. Much more ordinary considerations urge us to get about our work. If the engineer son of whom we were speaking said, "Estimates make me nervous," or, "I hate dealing with dirty, foreign labourers," or, "You can't expect me to concern myself with the nasty river-bottom when I have the arch of a bridge in my mind," or, "This work is so monotonous, I certainly have a right to one day a week when I can go to town and shop"—if he said these things, we should say he was—effeminate.

Effeminate!

Our times are so quick that, if we went earnestly to work, the next generation would see nothing in the remarks quoted above, to suggest a woman.

And do you know that this work of ours is a profession in which we can be as clever, and independent, and advanced, and emancipated as we please, and no man will like us the less for it. They like us to be inconsistent and unexpected, and they do not like us to know more than they do. But if we can keep house thriftily and comfortably and not bother them with it, they like that. In this we are not their rivals. They like our charming unexpectedness better elsewhere than in the butcher's bills; and they love the inconsistency of the woman who, in the home which her cleverness and toil have made peaceful and adequate, is yet full of pleasure and wonder at the things her husband or her son has accomplished.

This is my thought of our fair heritage of clever, helpful and devoted work, with its goodly promise of a harvest of people whom we have helped to be happier and better. Such is the country of my Vision.

II
THE PLAN

IF WE want something, we plan to get it. We say, "I will do this, not that; I will use my time, as I have little strength; I will give my strength, as I have little money; or, I will give my money as I have little time to give." A plan is merely a series of choices, a record of things taken and things left for the sake of obtaining some end or of following some ideal.

If we wish the people for whom we keep house to be well and happy, and good, we shall plan to make them so, as earnestly and definitely as if we were making a train schedule, or drawing the plans of a house, or writing the outline of a book.

The object of a housekeeping plan may be an ideal, but the plan is based on a definite, practical fact—the amount of income. The plan itself is the record of the choices made in the outlay of that amount of income.

The first thing for a family to do when they wish to make a plan, is to impress on their minds, not what they think they will have or what they think they ought to have, but the definite amount of money which they have. Some people gamble who do not go to races or play cards. They bet on futurity by spending something they expect to make, or risk a purchase on the security of Aunt Maria's usual Christmas present. The indications of this sort of gambling are the casual remarks one hears too often; "I just had to have it," or "We could not keep up our position without it," or, "I can't have my children dressed like beggars," or "It was awfully expensive, but I will save on something else." They are silly words and not honest. Silly, because they mean that some momentary self-indulgence has been thought worth the price of long unrest and anxiety; not honest, because if people have what they cannot pay for, they have what some one else has paid for as truly as if they had carried off a parcel belonging to the person standing beside them at a counter. In that matter of Aunt Maria, there is an extra offense. A gift should bring some special pleasure, or meet some special emergency. Counted on, or spent beforehand, it gives no happy surprise, no unexpected pleasure or relief; and what is worse, Aunt Maria gets no more happiness from making the gift than she would from paying the interest on a mortgage. Counting on gifts is a mean trick. If a child's parents do this, they cannot reasonably blame him for calculating the inheritance he will acquire at their death.

The income from some kinds of work is of necessity uncertain. This makes the housekeeping plan especially difficult. Probably the wisest way to meet this is to pretend that one's income is an amount somewhat under one's brightest hopes, and to live on that amount. In case of a disappointment, there is not then so large a deficit to struggle with; or, if the hopes come true, the surplus can very easily be put into a needed garment or a needed pleasure, or perhaps into the savings bank. Some people manage uncertain incomes by the month instead of the year. The trouble with this is that there is likely to be "always a feast or a famine," and that is demoralizing. As far as possible, a family should have an established style of living, to be changed only gradually, as an assured income increases.

This thing called the style of living is the insidious, untiring rival of that hard, cold fact, the amount of income. The two are forever quarrelling. Logically, the amount of income should settle the style of living, but often people spend weary lives trying to stretch the hard fact to fit its ever-increasing rival. This conflict is the source of most household troubles, and quarrels, and sorrows. What is the matter? Why is one less ashamed to wear one's heart on one's sleeve than a patch? Why would you rather owe the grocer, than say to your friend, "I can't afford it?" Why, when I say I am not ashamed to be poor, does the blood rise in my cheeks to belie my words? Poverty is not a badge of failure and laziness. It is often a decoration for high principle, or for noble self-sacrifice,—it is the lady-love of saints.

Very soon and very often in housekeeping, whatever may be the income, the conflict will arise between needs and wants and the financial ability to supply them. For this struggle we must gather our common sense and courage. They will help us to choose the things which really matter, and to laugh at ourselves for pretending to have what we have not.

Some husbands and wives make the financial plans of the family together. In other cases, the husband decides what amount of the income should be spent on the table, and the wife plans only the expenditure of that. The households in which the wife buys and the husband pays without consultation or agreement, exist, but let us hope they are few. Then, there is the household in which the woman is financier, and the man lives on an allowance. And, of course, there are a great number of households which are not complete families, but are groups of people, related or unrelated, who make their homes together, and in which the division of income is made by one person, or by the group, as they wish or are compelled by circumstances.

Plans for a whole income are considered here because they include the problems and details of less elaborate plans.

As has been said, the first thing for a family to do is to find out their definite income, irrespective of Aunt Maria. Incomes of all sizes are lived on in some way. The way which their income will cover, is the style of living suitable for a family. If the family income pinches, however, and there is some way of increasing it which does not destroy the home life, nor work some member of the family to death, then it is well to take that way. But only in cases verging on starvation, should an increase in income be made by the homemaker leaving her housekeeping, or the breadwinner working eighteen hours a day.

When the amount of the income is found out, the next thing is to divide it among the family needs in a reasonable proportion. This proportion is decided in the first place according to necessity, and in the second, according to taste.

Let us take for illustration a family with an income of $2,000 a year. And then let us take, from Mrs. Ellen H. Richards's book called "The Cost of Living," the following proportions for an income of that amount.

¼forfood.
1/6"rent.
3/20"running expenses.
3/20"clothes.
¼"miscellaneous expenses.

Translated into dollars this is:

$500forfood.
400"rent.
300"running expenses.
300"clothes.
500"miscellaneous expenses.

The next thing is to find out whether this is a possible proportion for us, if this income is our own.

Food, $500 a year, $9.61 a week, $1.37 a day—we shall probably think this a possible allowance.

Rent $400 a year, $33 a month—here there may be a difficulty.

If we own a house in a country town or a suburb, we can probably pay the taxes and make repairs, and have something left from $400. If we rent a house in a country town or in a not too popular suburb we can perhaps get it for less than $400, but in the latter case, the remainder may need to be used in carfares if some member of the family has to go to the city every day. If we live in a flat in a large city, it is an uninviting one that can be had for $33 a month, and even so, nothing is left for carfares. Regular carfares are usually reckoned in the department with the rent, because the place where one's home is situated determines their amount.

Here are two cases, then, in which the proportion for rent does not work. The first, in which there is more money than is necessary to provide a dwelling, is easily arranged. The surplus can be used for more clothes, or more "help," or to satisfy more of the unfailing supply of miscellaneous needs, or it can be put by for future needs.

The second case, in which we feel we must have a $40 flat and have only $33 with which to pay for it, is not as hopeless as it looks. For the next thing in the table of proportions is $300 a year for running expenses, that is, wages, fuel, light, water, etc. Here is at once a partial solution of the rent difficulty. In that forty-dollar flat, heat and water are supplied. If we use gas for cooking, $7 a month will be an average gas bill for a careful family, that is $84 a year. This amount will likewise cover the expense if we use gas for light and coal for the range. Then if we pay three dollars a week to an inexperienced girl, or $1.50 a day for two days a week to a combination washerwoman and scrubwoman, that will be $156 a year. Our running expenses will then be $240 a year. The $60 saved will pay $5 a month on the rent, and we shall then need only $2 a month more to secure the forty-dollar flat.

Next, $300 for clothes. In a year when things have lasted over, we may be able to get the $2 a month for the rent from this department. If, on the contrary, there is a new overcoat, or a new street dress to buy, or a new member of the family to clothe, then it cannot be spared.

The next division is $500 for holidays, recreations, books, charity, savings, doctors' bills and all unclassified expenses. This is the division which is most difficult to manage. If we think we cannot spare that $24 from the clothes department, we shall need to consider very carefully whether we take it from this, or from the food department. We shall have to consider the price of food in the neighbourhood; the health of the family; how much they need a holiday; whether there is any special purpose for which we must save; whether there is some piece of furniture much needed; whether there is a present which we greatly desire to give. And these are only samples of the things which will need to be considered. A choice must be made, though, however difficult, for when one item of expenditure in the family life is exceptionally large, there is but one thing to do, that is, to decide, reasonably and carefully, in what other department of living the expenditure can be lessened.

In this case of a high rent which has just been described, see in the table below what has happened.

FoodRentRunning
Expenses		ClothesMiscellaneous
Expenses
Mrs. Richards's Division500400300300500
Division for high rent500480240300480
8060 20

The high rent is balanced by a saving in running expenses and in some item of miscellaneous expense.

This is merely a suggestion of the way in which a housekeeping plan is worked out. Every family has its own needs and wants, and its income must be proportioned to suit them as far as possible. If your income is larger than the one used as an example, you will find that the department of miscellaneous expenses will grow and need to be subdivided many times—you will have more concerts than cabbages—if, on the contrary, your income is less than the example, you will find that the food and rent departments will begin to swallow up the other departments.

An example of the extreme of this is exhibited by a budget of housekeeping expenses given by Mr. Arthur Morrison in the Fortnightly Review a few years ago, for a family with an income of £1 10s. a week—about $7.50 a week and $390 a year.

s.d.
Rent70
Meat and fish55
Bread and flour21½
Groceries18
Cheese, butter, eggs, bacon111
Green groceries13
Fuel20
Oil, etc.17½
Clothes20
Club and insurance10
Beer and tobacco29
Balance13
£1 10s.

This table, roughly calculated, gives the following proportions:

A little more than 2/5 for food.
A little more than 1/5 for rent.
A little more than 2/25 for running expenses.
A little more than 1/15 for clothes.
A little more than 2/15 for other expenses.

Nearly half the income was used for food; the same proportion for rent as it is reckoned should be paid by a family with an income of $2,000; and about a third ($2.50 in our money) was left for fuel, clothes, and every other need or want. Yet Mr. Morrison says that if the wife is not lazy and the husband does not drink, a family can live in London on this income and manage to be well and decent. "Pretty hard!"—yes. "Pretty sordid!"—no. Courage and perseverance and self-denial made that budget, such as most of us save up for heroic occasions, and would not think of expending upon marketing and meal getting.

One cannot be as definite about housekeeping plans as one would like to be in dealing with such a definite and practical subject. In the nature of things, each family must decide on the purposes for which its income is used, and on the amount to be devoted to each. I cannot, however, emphasize too strongly the necessity of definiteness on the part of those dealing with their own actual incomes. A carefully thought out plan of expenditure, written down and earnestly adhered to, is a family backbone. A first plan has to be made somewhat in the dark, but every year brings enlightenment and confidence. Though the purposes for which their income is used are for each family to decide upon, yet I venture to lay stress upon three purposes which are often subdivisions of that general and entirely voluntary department of miscellaneous expenses. For convenience, I shall call them, "Allowances," "The Tenth," and "Savings."

There is an odd sort of innate privacy about money matters. Children are taught that it is ill-bred to open other peoples' pocketbooks or checkbooks, or to ask them what their possessions cost. As they grow up they find that business affairs are considered confidential, and that no honourable person investigates another's money affairs without some authority. It is desirable that these rules of honour should be preserved, and one simple way to help in this is to arrange that each member of the family has an allowance, if it is only five cents a week—an allowance for which he is responsible to himself alone. These allowances should go down in the family accounts as "Allowances," the details belong to the individual. The members of families in which this arrangement is made should conscientiously keep their private expenses within the amount agreed upon, for allowances not only teach the right of individual privacy, they teach that old and difficult lesson that "you can't eat your cake and have it too";—that one can't have marbles and candy the same week. An allowance also supplies each person with something to give away, which is really his to give. He may not have earned it by work, but he has earned it by going without something he would have liked to spend it for. There is yet another purpose which allowances serve. They help to prevent the failure of a plan of expenditure. For they keep a strict and careful plan from becoming a galling chain. They prevent the absorption of personal privacy and freedom by the regulations of the family as a group against which the individual, sooner or later, invariably rebels.

"The Tenth" is that part of the family income, more or less than an actual tenth, which is given away. It is not mine to offer advice as to the size or use of this division. I merely emphasize its necessity. It is the small thing, which keeps meanness and bitterness out of the management of scanty means, and selfishness and brutality out of the management of ample means. Establish a give-away division in your plan, for the sake of your own disposition, if you are not urged to it by any other consideration.

Next to this division, which is considered the generous division, comes one which has a less agreeable reputation, but undeservedly—"Savings." Many people who will say giving is a good thing, will deny that saving is. And is it? Why? What is it for? It is to provide those who suffer adversity, or who live to old age, against becoming a "public charge"; or against dependence upon relatives and friends. There is a fine honour in not taking the risk of these things. One ought to be willing to struggle hard and self-denyingly to save oneself and one's family from becoming burdens to other people.

Perhaps you say, "But why pinch and save for something which may never happen?" If you speak as one solitary individual, it is true, you may die before old age; it is the rare family, however, in which some member does not need a provision for a last period of helplessness. Then, there are those things called adversities, and those things called opportunities, which turn to adversities if they cannot be used. Do you know many people, who have not at some time been in a difficulty where they needed money, or who have not had a chance that depended on an outfit or a pledge? Is it reasonable to expect to run to some one else for help at such times?

And, by the way, to whom would you run? To the friend who is the open-handed, good companion, or to the careful, farseeing friend? Of the two, which is the more to be depended upon, the more finely honourable, the more worthy to be imitated?

There are two very usual ways of keeping savings. Life insurance is one of them. It is more than a way of keeping savings, for in most cases, the amount finally received is more than the amount paid in. It has this advantage, and also the advantage that the savings thus laid by are only available at a time of great need—sickness, accident or death—or sometimes, after a long period of years. It has the corresponding disadvantages that these savings are not available for small needs, and also that they may be lost, if for any reason the subsequent premiums cannot be paid.

A savings-bank account is another way of keeping savings. Savings banks will take money in very small sums and will pay a reasonable interest on it. This method of keeping savings has the advantage that the money can be drawn whenever it is needed, but the resulting disadvantage that the account may be small at the moment of sudden need. If it is possible, as it often is, to have both a life insurance and a savings-bank account, a household may feel well protected against calamity, and well provided against sudden wants.

If some member of a family has a life insurance, a definite premium will have to be paid at definite times. A savings-bank account is not so insistent. But to succeed in saving and to do it with as little discomfort as possible, it is better to put ten dollars or ten cents into an account on the first day of the month, and forget about it, than to save five cents in carfare on Monday, one cent on a newspaper on Tuesday, ten cents on lunch on Wednesday, and so on.

You will say that it amounts to the same thing. That if that money is put into the bank, all these little pinching economies will have to be borne as a consequence. That is logical, but only to a certain extent true in practice. In one case, that of the definite amount put away monthly, the money is saved because it is not there to spend; in the other case, it is there, but is saved with the thought of saving. The latter method means going without everything that possibly can be gone without. It is the method by which one fills a Lenten mitebox—it is disciplinary, that is, it is meant to hurt a little, and it does. People do not keep Lent all the year, however; it is an especial season for an especial purpose. At some time of serious difficulty in household affairs, it may become necessary to save in this Lenten way, but the usual, regular sort of saving, which is a duty for life with most of us, should be done as far as possible by a decision once carefully made, and afterward automatically carried out.

I wish I could in some way show the pleasant side of the matter of savings. There is much comfort and gladness in the possession of a small reserve fund. The mere sight of the big, ugly Savings Bank which contains it can give new courage. We look up at the building in passing and know we have there the chance to start again if we are not succeeding; a holiday if we very much need one; weeks to recover in if we are ill; protection from dependence upon other people; the power to keep some one we love from suffering; and the joy of sometimes giving a gift.

And now, a word more on the subject of choices.

In a little town I know, there live two old women. One will not go to prayer meeting because she cannot afford to put five cents into the collection basket; the other goes every week and contributes one bright penny. She devoutly brightens it on a piece of old carpet before she starts. As it is such a little gift, it must be made as fair as possible.

There is a stern business principle in the whole of life. It is that law of choice of which we spoke at first. If we have a thing, we must in some way pay for it, we cannot have the thing and its price too. We pay in various commodities: in work, in money, in time, in ability, in thoughtfulness, in suffering; but in some way we pay. It is not a harsh and ungenerous law; it is to be rejoiced in. God meant us to be self-supporting, not objects of charity.

The trouble with His law is made by us. Some of us try to get out of paying at all; some of us are angry because we would rather pay in something we have not. We would rather pay for food and clothes with money only, instead of with a little money and much thought and labour. We would like to buy our friend a birthday gift, instead of writing that birthday letter which costs us thoughtfulness and an ache in our pride. Because we cannot afford a holiday, we will not pay for comfort and pleasantness at home with the coin of gaiety, or a favourite dessert, or a new book from the Library.

Each of you, and I, whatever our incomes, have our choices of this kind to make, and the price of them to pay.

—It is prayer-meeting night. Shall we stay at home?—Or rub up a penny?

III
THE ACCOUNTS

WHEN a family have made a plan of yearly expenditure, they must have some way of testing at short intervals whether they are keeping to it or not, and some record by which at the end of the year they can tell whether their plan is a good one. These tests and records are furnished by accounts.

Accounts are as old as the brick books of Assyria. They have been found necessary to business transactions for ages. One of the reasons that housekeeping does not receive its proper recognition as a business and a profession is that it does not bear the stamp of either in the form of accurate accounts and statistics. Perhaps these are lacking because so many women are driven to tears or fury by accounts. It is odd that they are, too, for they keep golf and tennis scores, and devote themselves to whist, and are madly fascinated with jig-saw puzzles, and all these things are a good deal like accounts.

A favourite excuse for not keeping accounts is this: "I have just so much, and I can't spend what I haven't, so what's the use?" This ignores two things. The first is, that spending a little more than one's income, and thus gradually running up a debt, is an extremely easy thing to do. The second is, that people who do not plan their expenditures, deprive themselves of the chance to choose what their expenditures shall be made for. If you plan to have strawberries and cream on the first Monday in February, and bread and tea on the next Saturday, and you like that, then there is nothing more to say—except to hope for improvement in the next generation. If, however, in the exuberance of appetite or hospitality you have strawberries and cream on the first Monday in February, and are awfully surprised to find you can only afford bread and tea on Saturday—then you need to realize that you have deprived yourself of the freedom of choice, whether right or wrong, and that you had better keep a few accounts. The moment a family have one penny more than they need to buy the food which will keep them alive, there comes to be an element of choice in the spending of that penny. When the penny grows to an amount not easily calculated mentally, that freedom of choice is only obtainable by accepting the bondage of some sort of accounts. It is like the bondage of the truth, it makes us free.

There are many methods and variations of methods of keeping accounts. Mr. Morrison's woman with thirty shillings a week undoubtedly kept her accounts in her head, but she kept them. Many women keep accounts with a collection of small boxes or envelopes, each marked with the name of the commodity for which the money within is to be used. They find it easier to calculate with the actual money than with figures. It is well enough if they cannot do better, but it is primitive. I suppose that some six or seven thousand years ago, it was the latest thing in account keeping. No woman wants to be as far behind the style as that.

Accounts kept in figures have several obvious advantages. The symbol of five thousand dollars—$5,000—takes less room than that amount in money, and is no temptation to a thief. Another advantage is, that these symbols of money do not have to be paid out, but remain in a book, and furnish a record of just what has been bought and what money remains. They also make it clear to the owner of the money whether she has had what she most needed or not. That is one of the reasons accounts are so disagreeable; they often say, "You made a fool of yourself that time."

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

The Account Book

There are two sides in accounts, which are usually represented by opposite pages in a book. The right-hand page is the Credit side; the left hand page is the Debit side. On the right hand, or Credit, page are written the sums of money we have or acquire. Credit is related to the word creed. The reason for this relationship is, that a credit page represents how much we may be believed in financially; and to what amount people believed in us who paid us for work; and to what amount people believed in us who gave us gifts in money. On the left-hand, or Debit, page are written the sums of money we have paid out. The word debit is related to due and duty and devoir. Therefore, on this page go the amounts which have been due to others for the things which we have had, and which it has been our duty to pay because we have had these things. If we are honourable people, we will do our devoir in this matter.

At the end of a day, or a week, or a month, as seems best, the account is balanced. This word balanced is a metaphor. By its means the credit and the debit pages are changed into the pans of a pair of scales, and the account is balanced when they hang even. That is, when the items on the debit page add up to the same amount that the items on the credit page add up to, the account balances. But suppose the pages do not add up to the same amount—they rarely do, and they rarely should—What then? Then the metaphor of the balance suggests what to do. If one scalepan is lighter than the other, put a weight into it. If the debit side is lighter, that is, if it is less than the credit side, add on the amount which will make it even with the credit side, and write beside that amount, "Balance." In that case, there is a little money yet unspent, and when the next two pages of the accounts are begun this money yet unspent is put down at the head of the credit page like this:

Balance on hand. . . . . . . $2.39

If, on the contrary, the credit side is less than the debit side, add the balance there. This means that something has been bought which has not been paid for, and the meaning of another word related to debit becomes intrusive—debt. Debt is sometimes a temporary necessity—like oxygen pumped into lungs which can no longer pump for themselves; sometimes it is a calamity, sometimes it is a disgrace; and it is always dangerous.

Two pages of an account such as a girl might keep of her personal expenses, when balanced at the end of a week, look like this:—

1909 Cash Dr. 1909 Cash Cr.
July 1 Veil 50 July 1 Bal. on hand 25
" " Soda 20 " " Allowance 10 00
" 3 Gloves 2 00 " 3 Birthday 5 00
" 4 Church 25
" 5 Carfare 10
" " Shampoo 75
" 6 Postage 20
" " Carfare 10
" 7 Balance 11 15
15 25 15 25

The person to whom this account belongs has a balance on hand of $11.15 to put at the head of the next credit page. She is evidently an exemplary person for she has spent just about a fourth of her money in a fourth of the month.

One would think that simple household accounts might be kept like this personal cash-account. They could, except that it is desirable, almost necessary, that household accounts should be divided into departments. The departments will be those which have been decided upon in the plan of expenditure, such as food, clothes, fuel, savings, etc. There are several ways in which accounts can be kept in departments. Two or three of the simplest are suggested here. The rule for selecting a method is, use the one which confuses you least.

One method is, to begin in different parts of an account-book, accounts for each department like the simple cash-account above. It is convenient to have an indexed book, or else to paste slips on the pages where each account begins, which will stick out beyond the leaves and indicate by a word or an initial what department will be found there. The book should be one made for accounts, for then it will be ruled correctly. In each place where a department begins, write the name of the department at the head of opposite pages. On the credit page put down the amount allotted to this department for a week or month. This amount is copied from the plan of expenditure, which should be written down in the beginning or end of the book. On the debit page write the names of the items for which the money is spent and the dates. It is safer to balance house-accounts once a week. This prevents the use of more than the week's allowance, or if it has been necessary to use more, this serves as a warning to spend less than the allowance the next week. Below is a brief, two-weeks' account for the Clothes Department.

1909 Clothes Dr. 1909 Clothes Cr.
May1 Hat8 00 May 1Month's allowance 25 00
"3 Buttons 20
"5 Shoes5 00
"7 Balance11 80
25 00 25 00
May8 Thread 30 May 8Bal. on hand11 80
"12 Silk2 00
""Socks3 00
"14 Balance6 50
11 80 11 80

If it should happen that one department has to help another department, put the amount down on the credit page as: From X—Department—$10.00; just as the birthday present is put down in the personal account.

Here is another method, which is easy to understand, but tends to become clumsy if the details are many. For this, one should have a book with an unusually large page, and wider than it is high. Rule it like this form below. It saves confusion if the vertical rulings are done in red ink.

1909 Fuel Groceries Meat Clothes Carfare Church Wages
Aug.1 20 35
"2 6 00 1 00 98 10
"3 60 1 10 3 00 20
"4 72 10
"5 30 60 15 10
"6 20 1 00 10 1 00
"7 1 68 1 90 25 5 00
Week's
Total		6 30 4 20 4 58 4 15 1 05 1 35 5 00

At the end of the week, the amount at the foot of each of these columns should be compared with the weekly amount for that department allowed in the plan of expenditure. If the week's total is more than the allowance, the amount it has exceeded should be put down in red ink at the head of the column for the next week. This will serve as a reminder that when that column is added up, it should be possible to add in the red number without exceeding the week's allowance for that department.

This method has the disadvantage that it does not record the items for which the money was spent. It is practicable, however, especially for a housekeeper who only manages the part of the income devoted to the food supply. Often, in this case, items can be obtained, if desired, from the little books of the butcher or the grocer in which purchases are charged for a week or a month.

This method does not show the credit side of the accounts. The previous method has a credit side, but it is theoretical. That is, the amounts on the credit pages were taken from the plan, they are not a record of actual checks or amounts of money in which the income was received. This defect in these methods must be remedied.

It can be done by devoting a page of the account book to the dates on which, and the amounts in which, the actual credits come in. They will be salary, wages, interest on investments, gifts, etc.; or the sum of money from the business which supports the family, which at stated times is deposited in a bank or given into the hands of the housekeeper for the living expenses. It is necessary to see that these things come in regularly; if they do the housekeeping plan may safely remain unchanged. If they decrease, a way must quickly be found to lessen the expenses; if they increase, one must decide slowly what is the wisest thing to do with the surplus.

If this way of recording actual credits does not seem convenient, a general account can be kept to supplement the detailed accounts. It will be well to have a small account book especially for this purpose. Two of its pages will look like the example below. The items on the debit page are gathered from detailed accounts such as have been described. Completed for a month, it should be balanced as any account is balanced.

1909 General Acc. Dr. 1909 General Acc. Cr.
Jan. 1 Savings for Jan. 5 00 Jan.1 Salary 125 00
"3 Rent""35 00 "15 Interest on investment 15 00
"31 Clothes ""20 00
""Food"" 38 00 "25 Extra work10 00
""Fuel""8 00

Many people keep no accounts except in their checkbooks. That is, they write down carefully therein the date and source of every check deposited; and on the stub of each check drawn they write the purpose for which the money is to be used. This method is much better than no account keeping, but it is hardly detailed enough for a house account in which there are many items too small to be paid by check. After every three or four checks there is apt to be one marked "Incidentals," or "General Expenses." Into these indefinite checks often go the trip the family meant to take, the table linen they meant to buy, the savings they meant to put away, and at the end of a year it is impossible to say what they had instead.

Unless purchases are always paid for in cash, charge-accounts will have to have a place in the house account book. Some people have passbooks kept by the baker and the butcher and the grocer, and pay these accounts weekly. Others have charge-accounts with all their tradespeople and pay their bills monthly. If one has a charge-account with a firm, purchases made from them should invariably be charged. Paying for one purchase, and charging the next makes a tangle which neither the purchaser nor the shopkeeper can hope to prevent.

When purchases are charged, it is well to open a little account with the firm in the house account book. Write the name of the firm at the head of two opposite pages. On the debit side write the purchases, their dates and prices. On the credit side, write the dates and amounts of any payments made to the firm, because on those amounts is based the firm's belief in their customer. Such accounts may often take the place of the separate accounts kept for the departments of expenditure. The butcher's account will be the meat department; the coal and wood dealer's account will be the fuel department; etc.

When purchases are charged it is easier to buy more than one can pay for, than it is when they are paid for in cash. This is the cause of the objection which some people have to "charging."

It is very needful to have a fixed time every day for attending to the housekeeping accounts. The best time is immediately after the orders for the day have been given; or immediately after the housekeeper returns from market. It is well to have a little scratch-pad hung up in the kitchen, and another on a desk in the living room, and another upstairs, on which expenditures made at irregular times can be jotted down. The used slips can be torn off each day, and the items put down in the book at the regular time for the accounts.

Accounts balanced once a week are a little trouble once a week; those kept by the month are a large trouble once a month. Accounts balanced weekly are less apt to have mistakes in them; and they are a more frequent warning against living beyond one's means.

To a young housekeeper wishing to look into the matter of account keeping, I would recommend an interesting little book by Professor Charles Waldo Haskins, called "How to Keep Household Accounts." It is agreeable as well as useful. I wish, also, to say, in this connection, that the methods of keeping household accounts suggested in this book are neither professional nor authoritative; they are merely simple ways in which accounts may be correctly kept.

Not long ago, I made bold to ask an interesting and successful business man if he kept detailed accounts. He took out of an inside pocket a worn, narrow-paged diary. In it, under each date, was recorded every cent he spent—even to cigars and organ grinders. He showed it as if he did not quite like to, and yet as if he were determined to stand up for it—somewhat as a man acknowledges an unpopular conviction. He said, "It seems awfully close—no, I mean it seems awfully careful, but I want to know."

You may guess what it was he wanted to know.

IV
THE SCHEDULE

IN MAKING and using a housework schedule the housekeeper has a narrow path to tread, between chaos on the one hand and slavery on the other.

If the idea of a housework schedule appeals to her, it would be wise for her to make as slight a schedule and be as little bound by it, as possible. If, on the contrary, she feels sympathy with the woman who thought it would be more interesting to do the washing on a different day each week, she should by all means have a rather detailed schedule and faithfully keep to it.

A work schedule saves the time and strain which, without it, would be expended each day in deciding what was to be done; it prevents those who do the work or help with it from waiting round to be told what to do; and it keeps one day from being too hard and the next too easy. But we must not have a schedule which makes the accomplishment of a certain amount of housework in a given time seem a more important duty than the little pleasant acts which make the comfort and pleasure of a home. If the man of the house wants his wife or daughter to walk to the car with him after breakfast, she should be able to go without feeling anxious or preoccupied. The coming of an unexpected guest should not be thought a torment and a calamity because it disorders a schedule. When a small head is thrust under one's elbow and a small voice says, "'Want to be loved now," confusion to anything which inclines us to say, "Run away, you bother me."

A household run on a strict schedule becomes an institution, not a home; on the other hand, a household in which the work is done at any time or no time is neither clean, restful nor knit together with the bonds of mutual service and mutual compliance.

Housework is some of it daily, and some of it periodical. Bedmaking is daily; sweeping is periodical. There is also work which may be done by the workers in the house, or by others coming from without. In one family the laundry work, bread making, window cleaning, floor polishing and the like will be done by those in the house; in another, these things will be done out of the house, or by people who come in to do them.

(a) DAILY WORK

The following is a list of daily work in an average house. Besides these things some piece of periodical work is done each day.

Outside affairs usually decide the time at which these activities are performed. Meal hours in most cases depend on the work hours of some of the family, and on the meal hours depend the times when other things are done. Who shall do the work depends on the number of workers, the occupations which they have beside housework, and the periodical work of the day.

If there is one woman in the house, she must go through this list of things, doing each slightly or elaborately, as she is able and as they require. On the days when there is washing or sweeping or baking to do she will have to abbreviate other things. Upstairs and down she will merely put things in their places and remove visible dust; she will leave the table set until after luncheon, on washdays until after dinner; she will have planned the meals for this day the day before, and she will hurry all the work a little.

In a house where there is a mistress and a maid, the mistress will pick out from the daily work the things she wishes to do. She will perhaps set the table, put the house in order, plan the meals, go to market and make her accounts before luncheon. On washing and ironing days, if no extra person comes in to help, she will add to this the chamber-work and perhaps the washing of the breakfast dishes. Probably on those mornings she will not go to market.

When there are two maids in the house, the second will do the work suggested in the former case for the mistress on a washday, with the exception of the menu and the accounts, and with the addition of waiting on the table, washing the dishes, and some preparations for the meals which are not actual cooking.

When there is a third maid the upstairs part of the house will be her domain, and she will probably do some personal services for the mistress. In a large family she will help to wait on the table, and to wash the dinner dishes. After breakfast she will be busy with upstairs work and some sweeping, and after luncheon she will rest and dress and then answer the doorbell and the telephone during the time that the waitress is resting and dressing.

A fourth maid is usually a laundress, a fifth would do the rougher and simpler part of the kitchen work, and a sixth—but there, a housekeeper with five or six maids will not need suggestions from this book.

In households where there are several servants, their meals are added to the list of daily work. These come before those served to the family with sometimes the exception of dinner. When this exception is made, "tea" keeps the time between luncheon and dinner from being too long. It has always seemed to me that separate meals should be arranged for as soon as a family decide to keep a servant whose regular duty it is to wait on the table. A particularly tangible shadow lies upon a meal which is served by some one who after a long morning's work may be faint and hungry for the food she brings to you.

(b) PERIODICAL WORK

The following is a list of periodical work for an average house.

When can these things be done, and who is to do them?

We will consider the laundry work first. This should be the periodical work for two days of the week; if it runs over it crowds other things, and indicates that the wash is larger than we may have it with the present number and quality of workers. On the days devoted to laundry work, the daily work should be as brief and the meals as simple as possible. Of course, when there is a woman in the house, or who comes into the house especially to do washing and ironing, the usual schedule can be adhered to.

The day on which the washing is done is a matter of choice. It is traditional to wash on Monday, but some people say that Tuesday is better. If a woman comes in to do the washing it must be done when she can come. The advocates of washing on Monday say that as it is the longest and heaviest weekly job, it is best got out of the way as early in the week as possible; that the work of the week seems to wait round until the laundry work is finished; they say, too, that it is easier to wash on Monday because other people are washing.

The advocates of Tuesday say that as more of the family are at home on Sunday and as the regular clearing up is not done, the house needs especial attention on Monday; also, that they do not like putting clothes to soak the last thing Sunday night.

If circumstances leave one free to choose the day, it is as well to try each long enough to get used to it, and then to decide on the one which proves easiest for every one concerned.

In the household with one maid, the mistress should help on the days the laundry is done with the daily work and in some cases with the laundry itself. In the two-maid household, the cook washes, the waitress assists, and the mistress frequently does some of the daily work. In the three-maid household it is possible for each to do her usual part of the daily work and give some assistance with the laundry.

The sorting and mending of the clean clothes is the work of the mistress or of an upstairs maid. The sorting should be done when the wash is finished. The mending, if heavy, often has to wait for odd times.

The next heaviest periodical work to the washing is the weekly cleaning. In a household with two maids or less, the cleaning should not be the periodical work on more than two days, one for upstairs, one for down. The living room and the dining room will probably have to be thoroughly cleaned each week, but the other rooms can usually be done in alternate weeks with the help of the daily setting in order and the careful use of a sweeper two or three times in the interval. It is more immaculate and more agreeable to have all the rooms thoroughly cleaned each week, but in a fairly large house with two women to do the work this ideal may become a grievous burden.

In houses in which there is an ample number of servants, the cleaning of the downstairs rooms, daily and periodical, is often done before breakfast. It is the ideal way of accomplishing this disturbing and uncomfortable job, but it cannot be so done unless there are enough workers in the house to divide the work into distinct departments.

Baking, cleaning the refrigerator and food receptacles, cleaning the kitchen and looking after the garbage can is the work of the cook. If there is another maid in the house, the cook has the four days of the week not used for the laundry work when she may do these things. If she is the maid-of-all-work, she will have the two days left from the laundry and sweeping in which to do them and many others.

Bread baking is usually done twice or three times a week. Cake baking, nowadays, is an irregular performance. As making bread is not a day's work, it can be combined with other pieces of work, preferably with those which are done in the kitchen. It combines nicely with cleaning the refrigerator and food receptacles because one of these is for bread and should be perfectly fresh for the new batch. A careful housewife sometimes makes the cleaning of the refrigerator her own work, but even so, she will appoint a time for doing it. A good refrigerator need be cleaned only once or twice a week, a poor one may have to be done oftener.

A garbage can should be cleaned as often as it is emptied, and should with its surroundings be watched all the time, lest the cover is left off or any scraps or splashes are left outside to draw flies and make disagreeable odours.

A kitchen in which much work is done needs a thorough weekly cleaning. People are apt to do this on Saturday, but there will be many households in which it will be unwise to do so. If the master of the house has a half holiday on Saturday, and the mistress of the house does the housework, the work of Saturday morning must be only the daily work and such preparations as will leave Saturday afternoon and Sunday as free from work as possible. Some extra cooking, marketing and menu making, some adornment of the house and laying out of fresh table linen will be desirable and necessary; but kitchen cleaning, the changing of bed linen, or the making up of weekly accounts, should be appointed for some other day in the week.

If the housewife has servants to help her, she can have more work done on Saturday, but even then, she will guard against having things done which make the house seem unrestful, or which occupy her.

Arrangements for "days out" are merely adjustments by which one person's work is done by others. If there is one maid, the mistress takes her place; if two, one does the necessary work of both, the mistress helping a little. For the day a maid goes out no periodical work belonging to her department must be appointed. "Sundays out," like the days, are merely an adjustment of duties to allow for fewer workers.

Some of the periodical work is much more occasional than that already mentioned. This must be fitted in, sometimes by leaving more frequent work undone for one day, but usually by appointing it for a day when there happens to be a little less to do than usual. The silver, for instance, usually need not be done more than once a fortnight or once a month, and can be fitted into a morning when there is no sweeping, or into a rainy Monday. Other infrequent work can be managed in the same way.

In simple households a detailed written schedule is not necessary perhaps nor desirable, unless it be for periodical work and the "days out." For these a schedule like the one herewith might be made. This one is for two maids and includes some infrequent work.

MondayTuesdayWednesdayThursdayFridaySaturdaySunday
COOKWashingIroningBake Clean refrig., etc.
Take waitress's work		Day outPut cellar in orderBake
Clean kitchen		Sunday out
WAITRESSWashingIroningDay outSweep upstairsSweep downstairsClean silverTake cook's work
MISTRESSHelp a littleHelp a littleSort and mend wash
Help with work		Help with workHelp a littleGet out clean linen and set closet in orderHelp with work

(c) SOME GENERAL PRINCIPLES

One or two general remarks about schedules are necessary before the subject can be closed.

As far as possible heavy, dirty work should be done in the morning, the workers are more able to do it then, and besides, the cook does not wish to do such things when getting the dinner, nor the waitress when she should be dressed for the afternoon, nor the mistress at the social time of the day.

In making a work schedule, a savings fund is as necessary as in making a plan of expenditure. If every one in the house is doing as much as is possible, there is no allowance for accident, or illness, or unexpected demands. A little strength which is not nerves should be left in you and in your handmaidens at the end of the day. Housework extends over an exceedingly long day. At present, the only way to remedy this seems to be to arrange that each worker get a little rest some time in the day. I have put this as a necessary item in the table of daily work.

If no savings fund of strength is possible, more workers are needed, or better workers; or, if this is impossible, the style of living should be modified until it is appropriate to the force of workers.

The schedule is not the important thing, but the work; and there are things more important even than the work. For instance, a reasonable degree of liberty for the whole household.

The family, unless they take part in the work, should not be conscious of the work schedule. It is a framework to be carefully draped; a new kind of family skeleton to be kept in the closet as carefully as the old kind. It is necessary because it makes easy, natural regularity possible, and without it, as we have said, there is neither character, nor peace, nor mutual service in a home.

The housework must be done—well and regularly done—and to accomplish this, days must be alike, and weeks must be alike, and months and years alike. But they must be as the leaves on a tree are—alike to the casual glance, yet really somewhat different because capable of infinite adaptability.

V
POSSESSIONS

THE time and strength necessary for housework, and the comfort and happiness resulting from the work depend much upon something which housekeepers have to a great extent the power to control. I mean the quantity and kind of things they have in their houses.

Much time and money and weary labour would be saved, much comfort and loveliness would be gained if we could persuade ourselves to follow William Morris's rule:

"Have nothing in your rooms which you do not think to be beautiful and know to be useful."

Were this rule suddenly put in practice, what a bundling out of rubbish would ensue. A Bonfire of Vanities would rise in no time, built of little tables and pedestals, cushions and bows, curtains, vases, pictures that no future generations would call us vandals for destroying, fringes and ruffles, souvenirs of travel, broken and mended objects from the top shelves of closets, bronze and china statuettes, and that whole miserable race of blotters which do not blot, book-racks which faint under the weight of books, pen-wipers which would be insulted if they were inked, collapsible waste-baskets always in a state of collapse, holders that hold nothing, cases that fit nothing, impervious pin cushions!

May the smoke of them ascend!

One would think that this rule of use and beauty were austere enough, yet many people, before they acquire even a useful or a beautiful object, must consider whether there is room for it in their home, whether the members of the household have time and strength to take care of it, and whether it is appropriate to their possessions and to their way of living.

The amount of space we have about us seriously effects our health of body and mind. The more furniture there is in a room, the less air space there is. The sense of oppression one feels in a room crowded with furniture is not imagination, there is literally much less air to breathe. It is also not merely an idea that a house full of ornaments and pictures is not restful to live in. One knows what matchless weariness results from hours spent in a museum; it is caused by continually readjusting one's eyes, and thoughts, and emotions to an endless succession of things. A room crowded with ornaments and pictures is a miniature museum. With familiarity one may cease to see the individual objects the room contains, but this is indifference, not peace.

Those who have not done housework with their own brains and bodies cannot realize how many thousands of times every object in a house has to be touched and moved merely for the sake of cleanliness and order. It seems a small matter whether there are six pictures in a room or eight, whether flower vases are kept in the china closet or on the tops of book shelves and tables, whether there are five little fal-lals on a mantelshelf or twenty-five; but I hardly think it is a small matter whether a woman spend a half-hour with her children, or out of doors, or reading a book, or spends it in dusting tormenting trifles. These considerations are equally important when the work is done by maids; there are always enough useful things to do in a house to fill reasonable work hours.

One must ask, then, even when a useful or beautiful object is in question, Have I room for it? and, Is it worth the time and strength needed to care for it? And then one more question: Is this thing I desire suitable? That is, will it make the rest of the furniture which cannot now be renewed look shabby? Shall I feel that it is too good for the sun to shine upon, or the family to use? Will it set up a standard which I cannot keep up to without feverish effort?

In order to select or to weed out possessions in a reasonable way, attachments have to be kept in check; one must keep in mind that the family are more worthy of regard than the family chairs, and one must have such respect for oneself as a spiritual and intellectual creature that one will not fall in love with a silver-service or a set of ancient plates. I can think of few things more humiliating than the fact that families can be divided by old furniture; that sisters can be estranged by silver sugar-tongs; that lives can be spoiled, hearts broken and fortunes spent in the service of possessions which should exist only for the temporary comfort and happiness of their owners.

All this does not mean that our homes should be bare as hospitals, and ugly as barracks, and that, if the furniture is shabby, we ought not to have the one beautiful picture, or the good piano, or the hoard of books, which may be the treasure of the family. Nor does it mean that we ought not to love our household goods.

We want our homes as complete in comforts and appliances as we can reasonably afford. We want them lovely to look at. And we shall be all the better if we have an affection for every stick they contain. Scrooge hugged his own bed-curtains, because the sight of them assured him that he was at home. For the same reason we love the things we live with, and the place where we live. We like to come back after an absence and find the same things in the same places, and get an extra welcome from every one of them.

This is incidentally an argument against frequently changing the arrangement of the furniture, as some housewives think it economical and diverting to do. Such changes destroy that settled, established look which is homelike, and very comfortable to live with. Do you know about the man who was not afraid of burglars when he got up at night, but was awfully afraid of bureaus and rocking-chairs which his wife found a new place for every week?

We naturally become attached to things which we like, and which we have taken thought to get, and which we have looked after year after year. Heirlooms are the result of such care and affection and companionship continuing year after year, generation after generation until the objects on which this care has been expended seem to become a part of ourselves and our lives, until they seem to have absorbed some of the personality and affection of those who no longer dwell with them, nor with us.

But when possessions begin to seem something more than tables and tea-cups and silver spoons, have a care—they're not.

VI
CARE OF FITTINGS AND FURNITURE

EVERY house contains a great variety of objects and substances. If these are to be kept clean and in good condition, one must know what they are and what to do for them.

The Ceiling.—In the first place each room has a ceiling. Ceilings are usually plain and light coloured, because they are not easy to look at and because they are reflectors. They are not ornamented on account of our necks; they are not made dark coloured on account of the light bills.

Ceilings for the most part need little care. When the room is cleaned, they should be wiped, either with a long-handled mop with a wool head—dry—or with a broom in a bag. The former is harder to get but is better, because the combined length of the ordinary broom and the ordinary woman is not usually enough to reach the ceiling effectually and without strain. Besides, many brooms are too heavy to use above one's head. Such wiping nicely done is all the regular care a ceiling needs, whether it is whitewashed or frescoed.

The Walls.—Walls are panelled, or painted, or calcimined, or covered with fabric or paper. Wood, paint and calcimine are considered cleaner than other coverings, but all can be kept up to an ordinary standard of cleanliness.

Panelling should be carefully wiped with the wool-headed mop used for the ceiling, or with a cloth where it is within reach. If the wood is dark and polished, it may now and again be rubbed with a little good furniture polish; if it is light or unpolished it is better to content oneself with wiping off the dust.

Fabric-covered walls should be cleaned once or twice a year with a vacuum cleaner. If this is not possible, they may be as often brushed. This must not be done violently, but carefully, and preferably with a hair broom—a white hair broom such as one uses for clothes, if the wall covering is especially handsome or delicate in colour.

Painted walls may be wiped with a dry or dampened mop, or they may be washed with soap and water, or even with disinfectant, should this happen to be desirable.

Calcimined walls may be wiped only with a soft mop, or very gently with a broom in a bag. Mop or broom bag must often be shaken out of the window, otherwise the walls will be smirched or clouded. Very little in the way of restoration or cleaning should be attempted with calcimine, for it almost invariably makes a bad matter worse. Spots such as are made by hands or heads can sometimes be removed by rubbing them with a piece of dry bread, or with some corn meal. It is safe to experiment with any dry remedy; but a wet remedy will always fail. Even calcimine itself, put over a spot or a scar, will leave a mark.

Papered walls may be wiped with a dry mop, or a broom in a bag. They are not as easily smirched as calcimine, but one must frequently shake out of doors, or else change any brush or cloth used for wiping walls.

If you need a reason for wiping walls and ceilings, look at the mop or the cover of the broom with which you have done the work. Dirt is the enemy of health and loveliness.

Woodwork.—When woodwork is cleaned, all cracks, ornaments and irregularities should first be gone over with a small, soft brush. A flat brush such as is used for varnishing is good.

If the woodwork is not polished, it should next be carefully—that is, every inch of it—wiped and rubbed with a soft, dry cloth, or if the room is exceedingly dusty, with a cloth very slightly dampened. Any sort of oil, or polish, or even water is apt to darken or spot unpolished wood. In the case of baseboards and window ledges, however, a little dressing of some kind should occasionally be rubbed into them, for they have to be defended from dampness in the one case, and hard usage in the second. A little of the polish used for floors will do very well for this purpose.

If woodwork is polished, the dust should be wiped off after the cracks have been cleaned with the little brush. It should then be rubbed briskly with a flannel or soft cotton cloth dampened with good furniture polish. Kerosene, which is usually at hand, is inexpensive and excellent for this and other purposes of the kind. But use this or polish sparingly.

Painted woodwork should ordinarily be dusted with a little brush and then wiped just as if it were hard wood. Once in a while, it should be wiped with slightly warm suds made with mild soap. It should not be soaped nor made very wet, and should be wiped dry as soon as it is washed. Spots which will not yield to this cleaning can be removed with alcohol or kerosene.

Floors.—Some people will tell you that uncarpeted floors are a great deal of trouble, and some will say that they are very little. Perhaps part of the trouble which they seem to give is due to the fact that people keep their floors cleaner than their carpets. Dust shows, as we say, on a bare floor; it lies under furniture and blows about in fluffs. If the floor is carpeted, that very same dust, also the dust of other days when no sweeping is done, sinks into the carpet and assists in making colds and throat disorders and a stuffy smell. If we really minded dust, we would mind it just as much buried in the carpet as rolling round in fluffs. But we don't mind dust, we mind being thought dusty. If we have the same standard of cleanliness for the carpet as for the floor, the floor is the easier to care for.

Uncarpeted floors are usually finished with oil, shellac, stain, wax or some other smooth, preservative substance. Floors thus finished require three kinds of care; refinishing, polishing and dusting.

Dusting.—Dusting should be done, if possible, every day. It does not require much time or strength. With a good mop or a broom in a bag, floors can be as quickly and lightly dusted as polished desks or tables.

Polishing.—The frequency with which floors require polishing depends on the finish, the amount of wear, and the standard of appearance required. Some people polish them once a week, some once a fortnight, some once a month; others have their floors refinished twice a year and do nothing to them in the intervals except dust them.

Waxed floors are polished differently from those finished with oil or shellac.

To polish a waxed floor, first remove all dust with a hair broom, a wool mop, or a broom in a bag. Then rub carefully and energetically every inch of the floor with a heavy polisher until the polish is restored. The best polishers are costly, but others, less expensive, are made of strips of felt or chamois. They can also be home-made from a block of heavy wood with a hole bored diagonally in the top large enough to hold an old broom handle or a mop-stick. The bottom of the block must have several thicknesses of heavy material tacked over it. Old flannel, old bath towels, and old carpet are good for this purpose.

Floors not finished with wax are polished with oil or some patent polish. Many patent mixtures for this purpose are exceedingly good. Besides these, two parts linseed oil to one part kerosene is a good polish; also one-half turpentine to one-half crude oil. Kerosene used by itself both cleans and polishes floors, but its odour is an objection to its use.

As in the cases of the waxed floor, all dust must be removed before the polishing begins. When this is accomplished, rub the floor with a soft thick cloth dampened with polish. There should always be much rubbing and little oil. A quart of floor polish should last months. If by mistake too much oil is applied, rub the floor again with a dry cloth. When finished, it should feel smooth to the hand, not oily.

If oily cloths are kept from one time to another, they should not be shut up closely in a box or closet for they are liable to spontaneous combustion.

Refinishing.—Floors are refinished by receiving a new coat of finish. Before this is put on, the floors should be thoroughly cleaned. This cleaning is well done with sandpaper and turpentine. Every board must be rubbed in the direction of the grain until it is entirely smooth and clean. After this the floor should be wiped with a dry cloth, and the finish applied and polished.

When it is necessary or desirable to wash a hardwood floor, it should be done just before refinishing and with tepid water, soap that would not hurt hands nor lace and a cloth well wrung out before it is applied to the floor. Water is injurious to polished floors of any kind, and to waxed floors especially.

If a floor receives hard wear in one or two places, or if something hurtful is spilled upon it, it may be necessary to refinish these places when the remainder of the floor does not need it. In such cases a few square feet can be done just as a whole floor is done. The final polishing will keep the place from looking like a patch.

Rugs and Carpets.—Carpets tacked down close to the walls are not as clean as loose floor covering, and they are the chief cause of the fearful misery called house cleaning. Every other act necessary to the cleanliness of a house can be done without turning it upside down and driving the family to the club or the tavern except—taking up carpets. Rugs can be gathered up and taken to the lawn or the roof to be cleaned. The walls and floor of a room can be wiped within an hour. Windows can be washed and furniture and brasses polished with people sitting undisturbed in the room where it is being done.

Before the possibility of unobtrusive cleaning had dawned on me, I was once making a visit in a large city house. My surprise was almost painful when I saw a man cleaning the windows in the drawing room only an hour before an afternoon reception. It did not mean that they had been forgotten, or that the house was carelessly run—far from it—it was merely the day for window cleaning and the man whose business it was to do it went from room to room and cleaned them, making no disturbance and leaving no trace.

I make my protest against carpets for the reason that it is impossible to clean them in an unobtrusive way, and because they are the inspiring evil genius of cleaning done with emphasis—done, not for the sake of health and happiness, but for the sake of appearing to be a particular housekeeper.

Nonetheless, if we have carpets they must be cared for. Before the sweeping is begun, something should be scattered over the carpet to keep the dust down. Some of the things used for this purpose are damp tea leaves, sawdust, bran, corn meal, and shreds of newspaper. There are also patent substances for the purpose. One must be careful that these things mentioned are damp, not wet. Tea leaves should be wrung out hard before they are scattered, and never used on any delicately coloured carpet. Newspaper also is not safe for very delicate colours.

Any of these substances may be used in sweeping a tiled or painted floor; and any for an unpainted wooden floor except tea leaves.

When preparing to sweep, make the room as light as possible. Sweep the cracks along the walls and the edges of the carpet first, then sweep as much of the room as possible in the same direction, that direction being with the nap of the carpet, not against it. Sweep with short, light strokes—it is sweeping, not digging. When the dust is gathered into as small a pile as possible, take it up in a dustpan.

After sweeping it is good to wipe the carpet with a cloth wrung out of warm, soapy water in which is a little ammonia. Turpentine is even better than ammonia for carpets, but not for hands. Do not wet the carpet, wipe it lightly and quickly, rinsing the cloth often, but wringing it out hard.

One can to some extent combine this wiping process with sweeping by dipping one's broom now and then in water in which there is a little salt, ammonia or turpentine. Shake the broom lightly before applying it to the carpet, or the first stroke will leave a wet spot. Salt, ammonia and turpentine brighten the colours of a carpet, and the latter two are objectionable to moths. It is better not to dampen carpets in any way on rainy or humid days.

Rugs, when they cannot be carried out of the room, may be swept according to the directions for carpets and then rolled up, or folded round some piece of furniture difficult to move, until the floor has been cared for. The pleasantest and best way to clean rugs, however, is to take them out of doors and beat them on the grass or on a clothes line. Beat them with a furniture beater, or light cane, or stick, first on one side then on the other, then lay flat and brush the surface with a broom. Beating is better than shaking, both for the rug and for the shaker. When they are shaken, however, it is advisable to hold them by the side instead of the end; they are then less likely to tear or ravel.

Matting should be swept with especial care for cracks and edges, and crosswise of the breadths as far as possible. It should be wiped occasionally with salt and water, which cleans it and keeps it from becoming brittle. Many people prefer to use a hair broom for sweeping matting.

Shades and Curtains.—All the cleaning that shades need can be given them by drawing them down to their full length and dusting them first on one side then on the other with a short-handled mop, or a duster if you can reach the roller with it. The side next the window is the more dusty as it is the outside of the roll. When the shades have been dusted they should be rolled to the top of the window until the cleaning of the room is finished.

If they do not roll up tightly and at once, take the shade from the socket, roll it up evenly, then hold the flat piece of metal which projects from one end of the roller between your thumb and fingers and turn the roller round and round with the other hand until it is very hard to turn. See that the little ratchet has fitted into the notch for it in the piece you are holding, to prevent it from flying back when you let go. Then the shade is ready to be replaced in the sockets. Shades which fly up unexpectedly are wound up too tight.

Curtains should be shaken and brushed, with a whisk if they are of heavy material, with a softer brush if they are delicate. They should then be put in bags made for the purpose, or folded over the rod and covered with a dusting sheet until the room is clean.

Furniture.—Upholstered furniture should if possible be put out on a veranda where it can be aired and brushed. If this is not possible it should be beaten or brushed when we are preparing the room for cleaning. All creases and tufting should be carefully explored with a whisk and the furniture afterward covered with a cloth until the other cleaning is finished. Furniture upholstered in leather should be wiped, not brushed, and occasionally rubbed with vinegar, and sweet oil—proportions, one tablespoonful vinegar to three of oil. In time this slightly darkens the colour of the leather, but it keeps it from cracking.

On regular cleaning days polished furniture should have its carvings and cracks brushed out with the paint brush used for the woodwork of the room, and should then be rubbed with a very soft cloth. About once a month—oftener if the wear is hard, less often if it is easy—it should be rubbed with a good polish. The old furniture in France has usually been rubbed for generations with sweet oil and vinegar, in the proportions given above for leather furniture; probably few things are better. Two of the polishes suggested for floors, are equally good for furniture:

Also, equal parts turpentine, linseed oil and vinegar.

I believe that the best care an amateur can give to a very highly polished piece of furniture like a piano, is to wash it, when it becomes clouded, with luke-warm soapsuds. The soap should be mild, good soap. Wash a bit of the furniture at a time and dry it carefully, using very soft cloths; when it has all been dried, polish it with chamois and as much energy as you can conscientiously spare.

If painted furniture looks dingy, rub it with a little kerosene. Kerosene will usually remove spots from painted furniture—finger-marks from white enamelled beds, for instance.

Windows.—The woodwork of windows should be brushed and wiped free from dust before the washing of the glass begins. It is better not to use soap for washing windows or glass of any kind; it sometimes clouds it, sometimes gives it a blue tinge. Put ammonia or borax in the water used, or else rub the glass with whiting, or a scouring soap which is not gritty. If one of these, or whiting, is used, it should be allowed to dry and should then be rubbed off with a dry cloth or a newspaper until the glass shines. Newspaper is as good as anything you can get for polishing windows. There is nothing especial to say about cleaning windows with water except wash the panes clean and dry them dry, one at a time, beginning with those nearest the top of the sash. Do not try to wash all the windows in a house with a pint of water and a wristband, but the opposite extreme is as bad—worse for your dwelling. Any method of cleaning windows by dashing quantities of water on the panes, breaks the putty, loosens the glass, spoils the paint on the woodwork and soaks the wood itself with water.

Mirrors should not be wet. Fly-specks and finger-marks can be removed with a damp cloth or alcohol, and the mirror polished with whiting and chamois.

Pictures, also, should not be wet. The frames and backs may be brushed and wiped, and the glass cleaned with a damp cloth or with a little alcohol.

Brass.—Brasses, such as andirons, lamps, jardinières, candlesticks, sconces and the like must be divided into two classes for cleaning. Those things which are lacquered must only be washed and then polished with flannel or chamois. Any sort of cleaning other than this will soon remove the lacquer entirely. Unlacquered brass may be polished as energetically and severely as any substance in the house.

Wood ashes are a good brass polish, especially pine ashes.

The bath-brick with which people clean knives will also clean brass.

An old coloured woman, who lived with me once, polished the andirons with salt and vinegar.

These things are not as quick or as easy to use as many patent brass cleaners which one can buy nowadays. It is just as well, however, to know what one could do if separated from modern conveniences.

Tiles.—Glazed tiles may be wiped with a cloth wrung out of warm soapsuds, but water should not be put directly upon them. It tends to soften the cement in which they are laid. Unglazed tiles are restored to colour and cleanliness by a rubbing with linseed oil.

Lamps.—Lamps used every night need care every day. They should be kept full of oil for two reasons. One is, that if we then happen to use them for an unusually long time they will not burn out; the other, is, that if a lamp is full of oil no space is left for vapours rising from the oil, which otherwise may become compressed in the bowl and ignite when a match is applied to the wick. If there is a little screw-topped opening in the lamp where it can be filled without unscrewing the burner, use that opening for filling it. The burner should not be unscrewed unless it must be. Great care should be taken not to fill lamps too full; the level of the oil should be just below the lower side of the little opening, otherwise the oil will ooze out on the lamp and catch dust and give off a disagreeable odour.

It is better to rub off the hard burned crust of a wick than to cut it off. This leaves the wick more even and wastes it less. When it has been rubbed smooth and soft, see that it turns up and down easily and, if a round wick, that it is even. A flat wick should be slightly rounded, the middle being the highest point, like this diacritic

, not this

one. To be perfectly sure, light the lamp for a moment, put on the chimney, and if the flame is not the right shape alter the wick. When this is finished, wipe the burner inside and out, above and below, as carefully as possible. An old water-colour brush is good for cleaning intricate burners.

The time when a lamp needs a new wick is a good time to boil the burner. Remove the old wick and put the burner into some receptacle not used for food, with water and washing-soda: one teaspoonful soda to one quart water. Then boil it well. This is a good thing to do whenever a lamp smells or gives a poor light. If a new wick and a boiled burner do not help the matter, either the oil is poor or a new burner is necessary.

If a new lampwick is a little too wide for a burner, draw out two or three strands at one side. A wick should fill the opening for it, however, quite closely, especially if it has not yet been wet.

One should have a special place for cleaning lamps, and for keeping the oil and everything else used in their care. Nothing used for lamp cleaning or for applying kerosene should be used for any other purpose. Newspaper is good for cleaning lamps because when the work is finished it can be burned. It can be used to protect the table on which the cleaning is done, wicks can be rubbed and lamps wiped with it, and nothing cleans chimneys so well. Chimneys polished with newspapers rarely have to be washed. Washing is not good for them, it clouds them and makes them break more easily.

The catches which hold the chimney must not press very tightly, for this breaks the expanding glass; they must, though, be tight enough to keep the chimney from falling if the lamp is moved.

When a lamp is put in its place ready for lighting, the wick should be just visible above the socket in which it moves. It should be lighted while still at this level, then turned higher when the chimney has had time to heat. When the light is to be put out, turn the wick down until it disappears into the socket. This keeps the wick from smoking and thereby smelling. Turning a wick down, however, does not always put out the flame; be sure that it is out before leaving the lamp for the night.

Plants.—It seems not unreasonable to say that plants should not occupy the most agreeable windows of the living room, nor prevent the proper airing of the house in winter. This does not happen as often as it used to, but it does occasionally even now. In very few houses is there room for more than three or four plants, if it is remembered that the family have the first right to the light, and air, and window space.

There is also the consideration that few plants can receive better care than many. House plants ought to be immaculate. They should be in neat pots standing in saucers or jardinières, and should have all withered or unsightly leaves removed and the other leaves kept free from dust. If this is not done, they become that greatest eyesore, a degenerated ornament.

They should be put in a bathtub or sink when the rooms are cleaned, and sprayed and sponged and soaked. This helps to offset their unnatural life in warm, dry rooms. Plants thrive on attention. They love to be stirred, and watered, and sponged, and petted, and made much of. If we have only a few, we can treat them in this way, to their pleasure and our own.

The Process.—We have spoken of the substances which more usually require the care of the housekeeper outside the kitchen and pantry, and of ways in which they can be cared for. It will be well now to describe the order in which cleaning is done, and to say a word about the appliances used.

The first thing when cleaning is to be done is to gather the appliances needed for the work. If possible one should have a broom closet in which all the objects used in cleaning can be kept, then no time is wasted in hunting them up. Two rows of hooks, one high and one low, in some secluded spot will do instead of a closet.

I do not say that one cannot clean a room with merely a broom and a duster. One can sweep everything with the broom, dust everything with the duster, and take the dust up on a newspaper. Good appliances, however, make work more thorough, more easy, and more interesting. Those which I suggest here are merely such as I know to be useful. As a woman learns her work and becomes more and more interested in it she will choose and invent appliances for herself.

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

The Broom Closet

The following are the things I like to have to clean with:

Dusters and dusting sheets can be made of very inexpensive or old material, and they are things in which it is well not to stint oneself.

Wool-headed mops are usually called, in shops, piano dusters, but why should pianos have a monopoly of anything so comfortable and convenient? They are rather expensive but they last a long time, and can be washed perfectly clean. One can get along with one head and two handles, if necessary, by dusting the high things first, using the long handle, then the lower things and the floor, using the short handle. After this the head must be washed, for the floors will make it too dirty to use for walls. Wool gathers and holds dust more than any other substance I know.

Other appliances which are used for wiping walls and floors are string mops, broom bags, and heavy cloths attached to a mop handle. String mops scatter lint and it is impossible to wash them entirely clean. Broom bags are good because they can be washed easily, and because they make a broom into a combination appliance useful either for sweeping or wiping. They are said to be better made with a ruffle. Mop handles with attachments to hold the cloths are easily obtainable and much better for all purposes than string mops. In choosing one, see that the attachment is neither heavy nor intricate. Cloths can be easily attached to a mop stick if a deep groove is cut in the stick two or three inches from the end. Hold the stick with the grooved end up. Lay over it two or three heavy cloths—in the way one would put an unfolded handkerchief over the end of one's finger. Draw them down and tie a string tightly round them in the groove. Then reverse the handle and the mop is ready for use. Patent handles are better than this homely contrivance in all but one respect: in using them one must guard against striking furniture or baseboards with the metal piece which holds the cloth.

Here are a few important principles of cleaning.

1. Prepare the place which is to be cleaned.

2. Begin at the top. A house is cleaned from garret to cellar, a room from ceiling to floor, a staircase from top to bottom.

3. Do not flap round with a cloth or a feather duster. The object of cleaning is to remove dust, getting as little into the air as possible.

4. All necessary shaking and brushing must be done before the floor is cleaned; afterward, only wiping should be done.

We will now go over the process of cleaning a room as if we were prompting ourselves for the actual work.

Remove the plants to the sink.

Remove and carefully dust the ornaments, putting them on a tray which can be carried into an adjoining room, or put them on a stationary piece of furniture, which has been dusted to receive them, and cover with a dusting sheet.

Shut the doors into adjoining rooms.

Open the windows.

Dust the shades and roll to the top of the windows.

Shake, brush and cover the curtains.

Remove the upholstered furniture and rugs if possible.

If not, brush the furniture and cover it, sweep and roll the rugs.

If there is a fireplace in the room remove the ashes and lay the fire.

Wipe the ceiling, walls, woodwork, light fixtures and pictures.

Wipe the floor, not forgetting the baseboards, or sweep the carpet.

Whatever is done to the floor is the climax of the cleaning. After that we restore the room to order. This is the period when everything should be done by wiping.

Clean rugs and furniture which have been put outdoors.

Wipe furniture, mirrors, picture-glasses, windows and tiles.

Restore the rugs, furniture and ornaments to their places.

Bits of special cleaning like polishing brasses, washing windows, caring for lamps, and the like are best done at some other time than that appointed for cleaning the room. If these jobs are included, they make the regular cleaning too heavy and too long.

This process has been written out as if the work were to be done by one person, which frequently is not the case. It is the logical order of the work, however, whatever the number of workers. The outline of the process is this:

First all brushing and dusting—everything which gets dust off other things on to the floor.

Then the cleaning of the floor.

Then wiping away all dust made by the cleaning and restoring order.

One cannot effectually do this or any housework with one's mind on something else. The processes are intricate and logical and require thoughtful organization beforehand, and intense attention at the moment. If we can think about our neighbours, or brood over our grievances while we are cleaning, we can be quite sure that we have not done the work as well nor as quickly as we could.

VII
UPSTAIRS WORK

"UPSTAIRS work" is, I believe a colloquialism for making beds, tidying bedrooms, and caring for washstands and bathrooms.

The Sequence.—A reasonable order for this work is the following:

Shut the door of the room unless the weather is warm.

Roll the shades to the top of the windows.

Open the windows top and bottom.

Open the closet doors.

Take the bedclothes from the bed and spread them across two chairs set far enough apart to keep the clothes from lying on the floor. Spread the lower sheet in a place by itself and remember which it is. Turn the mattress over the foot of the bed, or turn it up on edge.

Do these things in all the rooms which are to be cared for, carefully shutting the doors of each.

If there are washstands in the rooms, now remove the waste water and put the stands in order.

If there are not, make the beds, beginning with the one first opened.

Dust and put the rooms in order.

Put the bathroom in order.

If the bedrooms are on more than one floor, it is well to do a floor at a time, and the bathrooms after all the rooms are finished.

The upstairs work is then finished until the beds are opened and the rooms put in order for the night.

The Description.—The first five actions in this order of work are done for the sake of letting as much light and air as possible into the rooms and the beds.

The washstands are put in order next because this gives the beds a longer time to air, and because it is desirable to get the waste water out of the rooms as soon as possible.

Washstands.—For this work one needs a pail for waste water and a newspaper or some such thing for it to stand on; two cloths; a stiff brush; and some sort of soap or powder which has been found good for cleansing toilet china. Borax, ammonia and yellow soap are old standbys for this purpose. Where there is not running water, one must add to these a pail of water for rinsing. Many people think that the water for this purpose must be hot, but I have found that hot water tends to roughen and crack the glaze of toilet china, and to incline the articles used for waste water to give off an odour. When water is left in the pitchers it is well to use it for rinsing as this lessens the amount of water to be carried, and insures that the water in the pitchers is fresh each day.

Empty all the waste water into the pail brought for it. Pour a little clean water into each thing emptied. Do not use all the clean water for this first rinsing. With one of the cloths wipe the objects on the washstand which have not been wet; rinse, and with this same cloth dry the tooth mug, soap dish, pitchers and bowl. If one of the pitchers contains water you need, attend to it after the other china is finished. Wash the slop jar and chamber with the cleaning substance or soap and the stiff brush. Rinse them with the remaining clean water and dry them with the other cloth. Never use for these articles the cloth which in the next room will be needed for the cleaner china. To have the two cloths of different materials helps the worker to remember this. Fill the pitchers with fresh water, carry away soiled towels, neatly spread or fold once used ones which are to be retained, and leave everything in its place.

The daily care of a stationary basin consists merely in washing or dusting the objects on the edge of the basin or on shelves over it, washing and drying the basin and the frame which holds it, and wiping dust from the pipes and fixtures underneath.

Whether the care of washstands is difficult or easy depends on the water used, and on whether the work is done nicely every day. In spite of daily care, very hard water will encrust the china. These encrustations can usually be removed after they have been soaked with vinegar for a few hours.

Bed Making.—Making a bed is an art worth knowing, it gives such comfort.

If the spring or other parts of the bedstead need dusting, that should be done first, then the mattress replaced. This should be turned each day, sometimes from end to end, sometimes from side to side, and given as many thumps and punches as are needed to make it level and even with the springs.

If a pad or cover of any kind is needed over the mattress, that is put on first and spread very smoothly, or, if wide enough, it is drawn very tightly and tucked under the mattress.

Then put on the under sheet, right side up, with the hems at the top and bottom, the selvages at the sides and the middle crease in the middle of the bed. Turn the sheet smoothly under the mattress at the head and foot. In the case of the under sheet, this turn should be a few inches deeper at the head than at the foot; in the upper sheet the deeper turn should be made at the foot. The person who sleeps in the bed naturally pushes the under sheet down, and pulls the upper sheet up.

To fold the corners, stand at the foot or head of the bed. Keeping the fold even, hold the sheet straight out from the side of the bed. Put your other hand under the corner of the mattress and run it round on the fold of the sheet until the thumb is even with the upper edge of the mattress. Hold it there. Then fold smoothly under the mattress the part of the sheet you have held out and withdraw your hand which you will find is in a sort of little pocket. This is sometimes called a pie corner, and it is rather like the fold for a mitred corner in a hem. When finished, the under sheet should be tight stretched and smooth.

Spread the upper sheet on the bed wrong side up, then when the hem is turned back at the head of the bed, it will be right side out. Turn the sheet under at the foot twelve inches if possible. Turn the corners at the foot but do not turn the sides under nor the corners at the head. See that the sheet lies straight, and smooth out all wrinkles.

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

Straight and Smooth

Put on the blankets, their upper edges reaching to the place where you intend to make the backward fold in the sheet. Fold them under about twelve inches at the foot, not at all at the sides; smooth them carefully.

If two people sleep in a bed or if the blankets are narrow, put a single blanket on crosswise, placing one of the selvages even with the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed, then the ends will hang some distance over the sides. Some people fold double blankets evenly, some prefer to fold them with one binding a good way below the other binding. This preference depends on whether one likes the upper part of the bed covering thick or thin, and also whether the blanket is long enough to turn under at the foot when folded evenly. The fold, not the bindings should be at the foot of the bed, in order that, if too warm, one thickness of the blanket can be easily thrown back.

When all the bedclothes are on, with the exception of the spread, turn back the edge of the upper sheet over the blankets, leaving about a foot of the under sheet exposed. Then fold all the coverings neatly under the mattress at the sides, drawing them smooth and straight.

The spread is put over the whole bed. It should hang over at the sides and foot, far enough to hide the mattress, springs and all under parts of the bed which are not of the same material or finish as the upper parts.

Bolsters are laid flat either under or over the spread at the head of the bed. They are not so invariably used as in times past.

If there is no bolster, two pillows are sometimes laid flat in its place, and two pillows set on edge upon them. If there is a bolster, the pillows are set edgewise upon it. They must be well beaten, smoothed and set up securely.

If shams are used they should be spread over the pillows and bolster as smoothly as possible. They are usually supported by tapes fastened across the upper corners of the shams on the wrong side, and slipped over the corners of the pillows.

In places where dust and smuts must be constantly guarded against, one must either use shams or else cover the pillows with the spread. This last is often not an agreeable arrangement to the eye, but it is better than smirched and dingy pillows.

Bed linen is changed according to the quantity of linen the housewife possesses, the amount of laundry she can have done, and her own taste in the matter. The common tradition is a sheet a week for each bed, and a pillowcase a week for each pillow regularly used. In this case, the upper sheet becomes the lower sheet during the second week of its wear. This change is made because it is more agreeable to have the cleaner linen nearest one's face, and turned out to view when the bed is opened for the night.

If you do not sleep long and soundly after reading this description of bed making, I am sure it isn't my fault.

When the bed has been made, the room should be put in order; clothes put in the closet and the closet door shut, the sweeper run over the rugs if needful, all visible dust removed, articles on bureaus and tables put in their accustomed places, all drawers tightly closed, faded flowers and burnt matches removed, and everything straightened. Then partly close the windows, draw the shades to the same level at each window, and go on to the next room.

In extremely damp or extremely cold weather, one may have to get along with less airing, but it should not be lessened except for grave cause. In some houses, it will be more convenient to make all the beds before doing any dusting. If there are people in the house who do not leave their rooms until after breakfast, or who wish to occupy them very soon after breakfast, such rooms will have to be done separately and later or earlier than the others.

In the evening, bedrooms should be prepared for the night. Waste water should be carried away, pitchers filled, washstands tidied and beds opened. Shams and spread are removed from each bed and neatly folded. Leaving the sheet folded over the other bedclothes as it is already, turn them all back until they make a straight wide fold across the bed a little above the middle. Then straighten the coverings at the sides and tuck them under the mattress again, making everything very neat and straight. Put the pillows on the bed as the person who occupies it likes to have them. This can sometimes be discovered by noticing in the morning how the pillows are placed, unless the person is so exemplary as to open his own bed for airing. If you are preparing the bed for a stranger put the bolster and pillows back on the bed and allow the guest to arrange them later.

The night clothes and wrapper belonging to the occupant of the room should be laid across the foot of the bed or over a chair, and bedroom slippers put beside them on the floor.

This part of the upstairs work adds exceedingly to the comfort of a family, but I think it is one of the things to be left undone in households where the work is heavy and the workers few.

Bathroom.—The bathroom, like other rooms, needs some daily care and some periodical care.

Daily the stationary basin must be cared for as previously described.

The tub and its fixtures must be washed, and wiped entirely dry. For this it is good to have a stiff brush with a handle and a soft cloth. Both these conveniences should always be kept hanging on a hook near the tub. It is only common decency after one has used a bathtub to rinse and wipe it for the sake of the next person. If a brush and neat cloth are kept near the tub, the good-intentioned will find it easier to cleanse the tub, and the lazy will have less excuse for not doing it.

The wood and metal parts of the closet should be wiped, first with a damp cloth, then with a dry one. The china parts should be scrubbed thoroughly with soap and one of the long-handled brushes made for this purpose. When the scrubbing is finished, flush the closet and rinse it with the brush, then flush again. Leave the cover open. The bathroom should be thoroughly aired and as much sun as possible let in while the upstairs work is being done.

Once a week, or twice a week, the bathroom will need a more thorough cleaning. Wipe the ceiling and walls with water if the finish permits. If not, with a dry cloth or mop. Wash all the fixtures, the woodwork and the floor with soap and water, and carefully dry them. Do not forget the outsides of the tub and basin. If the fixtures are nickel, they should be polished when they really need it, not oftener, with some patent nickel polish or with whiting. The woodwork of the closet should be rubbed with oil, especially if the finish begins to be worn. This prevents the wood from absorbing impurities.

If there are rugs in the bathroom, they should be washed as soon as they show need. No rug which cannot be washed should be allowed in an ordinary bathroom.

Many people recommend flushing waste-pipes now and then with a strong hot solution of washing soda. The overflow pipes should be included in this performance. Good, new plumbing, however can probably be spared treatment of this sort.

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

Air, Sun, and Water

Bedrooms are cleaned every week or every fortnight in the same way that other rooms are. They are apt, however, to contain closets and these require some special care.

Closets.—When a room is being prepared for cleaning, the floor and baseboards of the closet should be wiped with a dry mop or cloth—anything which will not make a dust—and the door tightly closed. Once in a while, before the cleaning of the room if there is time, if not, on some other day, the clothing should be removed from the closet, the walls wiped, and everything washed which can be,—hooks, wire hangers, the rods on which these hang, shelves and floor should be washed with water in which has been put a generous quantity of ammonia, borax or boracic acid. These things are not liked by the various small insects which annoy housewives. They also help to prevent mustiness and "close" odours. After the washing, everything should be carefully wiped dry, and as much light and air let into the closet as possible. The contents should not be put in again until this drying and airing is finished. Do not wash closets on a rainy or humid day. If they have a musty or unpleasant odour, a few drops of oil of lavender put on a shelf or on the floor will help to remove it. A little chloride of lime, poured into a saucer and set on the floor of the closet, will also remove odours. Little bags of lavender or rose-geranium leaves laid on closet shelves add much to the daintiness and freshness of the clothes kept there. The shelves should be covered with white paper cut, not folded, to fit the shelf. Folds afford harbourage for insects. Floors should be left without covering of any sort. Ideally, they are of hard wood like the floor of the room.

Clothes get more air, and are less creased and rumpled if they are hung on hangers suspended on a pole or wire, than when they are hung one piece on top of another on hooks fastened into the wall. Even in a wall closet, not more than ten inches deep, one gains space by stretching a strong wire from opposite hooks, and putting hangers on this. Four or five waists or dresses will hang without crushing on such a ten-inch wire. A closet with a shelf in it offers better hanging-space if hooks are put at intervals into the under side of the shelf. A hook like two J's, back to back, is made especially for this purpose.

It is well to give bedrooms a look of peacefulness. Some things which help in this are: perfect cleanliness, few decorations, few colours, a bed which looks like a bed, a regard for the occupant's wishes to have personal possessions one way rather than another, and something else—I have no name for it, but it is there because the housewife has wished, as she made the bed and arranged the room, that the person who sleeps there may have rest and quiet of heart.

She has folded into the sheets perhaps this prayer:

And four great Angels guard this bed,
Two at the foot and two at the head.

VIII
DINING-ROOM AND PANTRY WORK

THE dining room is put in order daily and cleaned periodically in the same way that the other rooms in the house are cared for. The daily care of this room, however, has to be a little more thoroughly and thoughtfully given. It should be noticeably neat, carefully aired, and a trifle cooler than a living room. Pure air and the restfulness of order are favourable and refining to appetite.

To allow fruit or any kind of food to stand in the dining room is a poor custom. Such things attract flies, create an odour of food in the room, and encourage the indulgent habit of eating bits now and then between meals.

The plant or flowers used on the table need a little care each day. Water in which flowers stand, quickly becomes discoloured enough to show dark against a white cloth, and soon gives off an unpleasant odour. Even when there is little time for looking after such things, one can take the flowers out, holding them in position, quickly clip off the ends of the stems and the leaves that are wet, and put them back into fresh water. A plant should be watered each day and have dust and withered leaves removed from it.

The hours for meals should be times of rest and social pleasure, they cannot be if disagreeable sights, sounds, or smells accompany them. Keep the dining room neat, aired and cool. In a clean, well-kept room there will be less fault-finding, scolding and gloom than in a neglected one. Such a room will also help people to be agreeable, attentive and interesting, in harmony with their surroundings.

The Table.—If the dining table has a polished top it will need special and frequent care. Some people prefer a table of which the top is a plain white wood because it does not need special care. Such a table must of course be kept covered with a linen cloth at meals and a table cover at other times.

A polished table must be constantly guarded from heat and scratches, and must be polished at regular intervals. Where very hot dishes are to be placed the table should have added to the usual protection of an undercloth the further protection of asbestos or basketwork mats. These can be hidden, if you wish, with linen carving cloths or doilies.

Rub the table briskly for a few moments every day with a soft cloth or a piece of chamois skin. About once a week polish it more carefully. Before either of these performances remove any stickiness or greasiness with a damp cloth.

The mixture of sweet oil and vinegar recommended for furniture is excellent for a table. (1 tablespoonful of vinegar to 3 of sweet oil.) A mixture of equal parts sweet oil and turpentine is also good. Rub the table thoroughly with a soft cloth dampened with the mixture, then rub it with a clean cloth.

Dull spots occasionally appear even on the most carefully guarded tables. Long and frequent polishing will sometimes remove these. If the finish is seriously injured, however, amateur efforts to restore it are more likely to make it worse than better.

On account of frequent rubbing and unavoidable wear, the table-leaves in use should often be changed for those not in use, the whole table will then be of the same colour and in the same condition.

Table Setting.—Before beginning to set the table, see that it is the right size. Neither people nor dishes should be crowded if this can possibly be avoided; it is also undesirable to have the table too large for the number at the meal.

For dinner the table is first spread with a cotton-flannel or felt undercloth. This is not only to save a polished table from injuries; it improves the appearance of any table and prevents noise. Over it is laid the linen cloth, the middle crease running the length of the table exactly in the middle.

In some households a smaller, lighter tablecloth is used for breakfast and luncheon. In others, a luncheon cloth of embroidered linen, lace or drawn work is used for these less formal meals. In others, the table is left bare and doilies spread where plates and dishes are to be set. Many people who use doilies or a luncheon cloth for luncheon prefer a covered table at breakfast. These are all matters of taste or economy with one exception. It is the custom to spread the table for dinner with a cloth which entirely covers it.

When the tablecloth has been laid, a centrepiece of linen or lace is sometimes placed upon it in the centre of the table. If carving is to be done, a carving cloth is placed at the foot of the table in such a position that the platter will stand in the middle of it.

All the table linen, when removed, should be refolded in the creases made by the iron. Centrepieces and doilies should be laid flat in a drawer or the former rolled on a roller. A little care in this matter keeps the cloths fresh longer and protects delicate linen from too frequent washing.

A napkin is laid at each place, on the right or in the centre. Napkins should match the tablecloth but this is not always possible because they have to be changed more frequently than the cloth. Fresh napkins every day at dinner is the agreeable and not extreme method of changing them; to have fresh ones at every meal is rarely possible or necessary except in hotels; a change twice a week is the minimum at which any degree of comfort can be maintained.

When all the linen necessary is on the table, place exactly in the middle of the linen centrepiece the vase of flowers, plant or dish of fruit which is to be the centre decoration of the table. It makes variety and daintiness if this decoration is flowers or a plant or even a silver or glass vase rather than food in any form. A pretty thing helps to remind us that eating is not the only thing for which we come together. It may also afford a topic for pleasant conversation.

Photograph by Helen W. Cooke

Order and Daintiness

After the centre decoration is placed put on candlesticks or lamps, carafes, decanters, salts and peppers and any large objects which are to be used, leaving places for bread plates, relish dishes and the like. These things should be arranged symmetrically, not as if they were men on a checker-board, but with the sort of symmetry which the leaves on a vine have. If there is not some evidence of design in the arrangement of a table, it will look littered.

Add now to the napkin at each place, everything which will be needed during the meal, or until the serving of the sweet at luncheon or at dinner, or until the serving of fruit as a last course at any meal. The finger bowl, doily and silver needed for these courses are frequently arranged on the plate to be used and brought to each place at the beginning of the course.

At the left of the place lay the forks in the order in which they are to be used; at the right lay the knives in the same order with their edges toward the plates; at the right of the knives lay the soup spoon. If the dessert spoon is put on the table it is placed at the right of the knives and the soup spoon. Spoons are laid on the table with the hollow of the bowl up, and forks with the ends of the tines up.

Besides the silver each place needs a glass for water—glasses are turned up, not down—and others suitable for any beverages which are to be served. A salt cellar will be needed if individual salts are used. These are not regarded favourably at present but are tolerated if each has a spoon. And either a small butter plate or a bread and butter plate and butter knife are put at each place except sometimes at dinner when butter is not served. When meals are formally served a plate is put at each place which is removed when the first course is brought.

One cannot lay places correctly without knowing the menu for the meal. The food to be eaten determines the objects needed for eating it.

When the table is set with the exception of the food, the sideboard or serving table, or both should be arranged. On these are put dessert or fruit plates arranged with finger bowls and silver, all the china not to be heated which will be needed for the courses of the meal, any seasonings or bottled sauces which the family are in the habit of asking for, a crumb tray and napkin or scraper, a small napkin or doily with which a spot of gravy or fruit juice could be quickly removed from the tablecloth, a water pitcher and a serving tray. If after-dinner coffee is made on the table, it is convenient to set out all the articles needed for this on a tray on the sideboard. Room must be kept on the serving table for the vegetable dishes which are usually left there during the course to which they belong.

A few minutes before a meal is served is the time to place food such as pickles, jelly, bread, butter and milk on the table or the serving table and to fill the glasses with water. If ice is put into each glass it should be done carefully with a spoon. It adds to the appearance of butter balls and helps to keep them cool if a lettuce leaf is laid in the dish under them. They keep their shape and firmness better if kept in a bowl of water when in the refrigerator. At luncheon or breakfast bread is served on a plate or tray, or the loaf, board and knife are put on the table. At dinner a piece of bread is laid by each place or tucked into each napkin. Hot biscuits keep hot longer if a napkin is spread over the plate and folded over them. Cold bread or crackers, also cheese, are often served on a folded napkin, they look better so than on a plate.

In laying the table, time, steps and thought can be saved by taking as many things as possible from one place at one time. That is, after the linen is on the table. First put on everything needed from the sideboard, then everything needed from the china closet, then everything needed from the pantry. All the articles from each place can sometimes be brought in one trip with the help of a tray. If the flat silver is kept in a basket, it is better to carry the basket from place to place and take out what is needed. This saves steps and some handling of the silver.

When the places where the dishes and silver are to be kept are first decided upon, and when the order in which the table is set is first learned, both should be done with the thought of saving steps and of opening drawers and doors as seldom as possible.

Tables should be set without noise. Not only because it is disagreeable to hear the rattling of dishes but because thumps, and clatter, and jingle mean scars on the table, nicks in the china, scratches on the silver and a lack of that dainty carefulness without which a table is never perfectly set.

Waiting.—"Waiting" requires more "head" than other household employments. One can keep accounts slowly and laboriously, one can sweep without possessing much tact, one can even cook without possessing a great degree of administrative ability, or do laundry work without a good memory. To "wait" cleverly requires all these qualities.

The object of waiting is that the needs and wants of those seated at table shall be supplied without effort, often without consciousness on their part. It also preserves the orderliness of the table, and makes inquiries about people's wishes unnecessary. One occasionally hears the objection made to careful waiting that it makes people thoughtless for the comfort of others. I would suggest that conversation made agreeable and amusing to others requires greater and more continued thoughtfulness than passing the beans and the butter.

The waitress should have in her mind a plan of the meal including not only the food but also the china, silver and linen needed for serving it. If a meal is more than two courses long, it is often better to have the plan written out. This is a little trouble, but saves mistakes, and the necessity of stopping to think when one has not time to think.

The waitress is expected to be in the dining room when the family enter for the meal. She should be ready to serve the first course as soon as they are seated. If this course is oysters or grape-fruit or some such thing, plates containing it are set before each guest. Two plates can be brought at once if there are no plates already on the table; if there are, the waitress can only bring one plate for she must remove the empty plate before she can set the other down. When the plates are all on the table she will then pass anything which accompanies the course. Sometimes various small relishes and biscuits such as are required with raw oysters can be put on the tray and all passed at the same time.

When the course is finished the soiled plates are removed two at a time and after that anything from the table belonging to the course. The soup plates are then brought and set before the hostess if the soup is to be served on the table. The tureen is placed before her, uncovered, and the cover deposited on the serving table. The waitress stands at the left of the person serving, takes each plate as it is ready and places it before a guest. If the soup is served from the pantry or the serving table, the plates are brought two at a time, as for the former course.

With a few changes in detail to be noted below, courses are served as one or other of the two described. This is an outline for serving a course.

Detail (a).—It is the custom for the host to serve the fish and do the carving. Perhaps it is a survival from the days when these things were the trophies of his hunting and fishing. The hostess serves the soup, salad and dessert.

Detail (b).—If the family is large the plates for the meat should be put on the serving table and one placed before the carver at a time. The waitress stands beside the carver with the next plate in her hand and puts it before him when she removes the one which is ready to pass. Or if the waitress is too much occupied to do this, three or four plates can be put before the carver, then three or four more.

Detail (c).—A vegetable requiring a separate plate, such as asparagus or corn on the cob, is served after the other vegetables. A plate for it is first put at the left of each place and then the vegetable is passed. Salad, when served with the meat course, is arranged for and passed in the same way.

Detail (d).—Everything to which a guest is to help himself is passed to him from the left side that he may comfortably use his right hand. Things which he has already accepted, like a serving of meat or a cup of coffee, are placed before him by the waitress.

Detail (e).—Some authorities say that the people on one side of the table should be served in the order in which they sit, then the people on the other side in the same order, without regard to sex or precedence. This is well enough for a table full of people of about equal age and importance, but in an ordinary family there are apt to be guests or a grandmother to whom all slight deferences are due. I took a meal with a family not a great while ago at which the two small children were served before the guests and their mother. Extraordinary spectacle!

The question whether the hostess shall be served first or not is much discussed. I can only say that I have never yet seen a "guest of honour" who would not have been glad if the hostess had been served before her.

The outline for serving a course, with the addition of the suggestions above, holds good until dessert. At the end of the course before dessert, the table is cleared of everything except the decorations and glasses. The carving cloth is lightly folded together and carried away. Crumbs are removed and any disarrangement restored to order. Then the dessert plates, arranged with finger bowl, doily and silver are brought from the sideboard. As soon as one is placed before each guest the dessert is served. If it is served by the hostess the waitress takes the first plate from before the hostess as soon as it is ready and replaces it with an extra one which she has in her hand. She brings back the one she removes from before the guest whom she served and places it before the hostess when she removes the one filled in her absence.

The conventional dress for a waitress is a plain black frock with white collar and cuffs, a large white apron with a bib and shoulder straps, and a small cap. At breakfast she usually wears a light-coloured cotton frock instead of the black one as this is more suitable for the work she does in the morning. Her shoes should be comfortable for her own sake, and noiseless for the sake of others. The same cleanliness and daintiness which are necessary in her work should also be hers personally. I cannot believe that it is ever very difficult to persuade a girl to this. Probably a mistress need only express an interest in her waitress's hair, and teeth, and hands, and pretty looks and they will soon be well cared for. Such interest on the part of the mistress is not merely requited with an improvement in the appearance of her waitress. A girl who can put a dainty collar on herself has taken a long step toward being able to put a dainty collar on a chop-bone; if her hands are clean and soft, she will not like disgusting dishwater or soppy glass-towels any better than her mistress does.

Waiting and elaborate methods of serving meals may easily become a nuisance and a burden instead of a help and a pleasure. To try for "appearances" to which the skill and strength of a waitress or a maid-of-all-work are unequal is to produce a worried hostess and nervous, wearied guests. A certain degree of order, daintiness and formality should characterize every meal, but these things do not depend upon the number of courses, nor upon the presence of a waitress.

In a household where there is no maid, thoughtfulness beforehand can prevent any getting up from table except between courses. All the food and accessories for a course must be placed on the table and served by some member of the family, and the plates must be passed from hand to hand. Sometimes two or even three courses can be agreeably put together, as when a salad is served with the meat course, or fruit and coffee are brought with the dessert. Often in this way a dinner can be acceptably served with only one or two clearings of the table, which under other circumstances would have been five or six courses long. A large tray on the serving table upon which the plates and dishes can be put and all removed together is a great assistance. Upon such a tray, also, everything necessary for a whole course can often be brought from the kitchen at one trip. The article known as a dinner wagon is even better as an assistant than a tray.

In a small family it makes less confusion if only one person does the necessary waiting. A daughter rather than a mother should do this, or the person who has not done the cooking rather than the person who has. In a large family two people should do the waiting, partly for speed, partly because it is hard work. There is the further advantage that work done by two people is much more cheerful than work done by one. I have little patience with families in which one sister does all the housework for a week or a month, and then another takes it for the same length of time. It is well enough to divide the work into departments and sometimes exchange those, but no sister should rock on the veranda while the other washes the dishes alone. In the first place it is not economic—two could do the work more quickly and then both could rest. And besides, what a loss of companionship! The most helpful and intimate talks I have ever had with one of my sisters have been while we were washing dishes together.

In households where there is but one maid, it is wise to make her duties as waitress few and simple. She is probably not trained for the work, and besides, if she has cooked the meal, she is hot and tired just at the moment when she should be fresh and alert. Under such conditions the waiting is not likely to be well and quickly done. If the maid does those things which prevent any getting up from table, that is really enough for her to do. If, however, you wish her to pass plates and vegetables, at least serve the sauce on the platter with the fish, have the gravy for the meat and the sauce for the pudding placed where the server can help them, and depend upon those seated at the table to pass the bread, butter, pickles and jelly which are before them.

In clearing the table, the large tray mentioned before is an aid which should be allowed to one maid. Any piling of dishes as they are removed, however carefully done, looks unpleasant; taking two plates to the pantry at a time costs many steps. The large tray on the serving table is a compromise between these alternatives which I have found good.

Waiting, like table setting cannot become excellent unless it is characterized by an almost exaggerated carefulness. Whether the meal is elaborate or extremely simple, evidences should never be lacking of minute thoughtfulness and of the use of careful hands.

The Pantry.—A pantry is like a tea basket, or a handy box, or a ship's cabin. It is a small space containing a great variety of useful things. The one virtue necessary above all others in such a space is orderliness. Without it convenient compactness becomes crowded confusion.

Things not connected with pantry work should have a place found for them elsewhere.

Things most frequently used should be on the shelves and in the drawers which require least reaching and stooping.

Things of the same kind should be grouped together except when this violates the previous rule. That is, for the sake of keeping all the platters together, it is not necessary to use precious space on the most practicable pantry shelf for a platter only used at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Dish Washing.—Dish washing is such a frequent and important part of pantry work that it deserves a few words of description, perhaps of praise.

Dish-washing accessories should be within arms' reach as one stands at the sink. They are: a dishpan, soap, borax or ammonia, towels—soft ones for the fine dishes, coarser ones for the heavier dishes—a dish drainer, a sink strainer for scraps. To these may be added a mop and a dishcloth if you feel you must have these articles, but I wish I could convert you to the use instead of a small-sized whisk, or a little fibre broom such as is sold for cleaning sinks. Broom straws softened by warm water will not scratch cut glass and yet are stiff enough to use for washing pots. The little broom can be scalded and dried through and through on the back of the stove. It does not smell, and dish washing done with it is as different from dish washing done with a cloth, as eating with a fork is different from eating with your fingers.

In a pantry where many dishes are washed a folding table is a serviceable accessory to dish washing. It can be set up to receive the dried dishes, and folded again when no longer needed.

The list of accessories for dish washing done where there is no running water is slightly different. One must then have one or two kettles of hot water on the fire. The dish drainer must have a tray to stand on or be replaced with pans. The sink strainer will not be needed. A bowl can be used instead, but not a tin receptacle, for scraps of food sometimes combine to form acids which eat or discolour tin.

The Preparation.—For the work of dish washing, first get yourself ready. Put on an apron, preferably one with a bib. If your sleeves are long, either turn them back or cover them with half-sleeves which button tightly round the wrist.

Next put away all food.

Then prepare the dishes. Gather the glass together. Empty the tumblers which have contained water, but fill with water those which have contained milk. Collect the cups and saucers, emptying the cups and rinsing out dregs or tea leaves. Scrape the plates thoroughly with a spoon, not with a knife, and pile each kind together. If there is much gravy or sauce upon them, rub them off quickly with a discarded crust or a celery stalk. Put the silver into a bowl or pitcher and pour water upon it. Platters should be scraped like the plates. Fill cream pitchers, gravy boats and vegetable dishes with water.

All this preparation is not old-maidishness and a waste of time. It saves time, and dishes, and disgust.

The Process.—When the dishes have been made ready for washing, pour a generous supply of hot water into the dishpan. Put into it a little borax, or a larger supply if the water is hard. Lay in two or three glasses. They should be put in edge first, wet inside and out at the same moment, and not laid close enough to touch each other. Take them out one at a time and immediately wipe them dry and bright. They become streaked if allowed to drain. Replace those taken out with others to be washed. Set the wiped glasses in a space prepared for them on a shelf or table, or if there is little room in the pantry put them on a tray which can be carried at once to the cupboard. After the glasses, wash and wipe any other glass which is not greasy, but leave anything which is until after soap has been put into the water.

Neither the glass nor any of the dishes should be touched with one's bare hand after it is lifted from the water, but should be held always with the cloth, wiped and polished with the cloth and set down at last with a hand still covered.

When the glass is finished, put soap into the water with the aid of a soap shaker or any other contrivance which prevents the soap from lying in the water or from being stuck on a fork. Make good suds, but not strong suds, for this injures colour and gilding.

Dishes are usually washed in the order of greasiness, therefore the cups and saucers come next after the glass and after these any plates which are but slightly soiled. These cleaner dishes often need no rubbing with cloth or brush, but can be lifted out of the water and placed in a drainer or pan, the cups on their sides, the plates on edge. Rubbing, however gentle, at last wears off decoration. Dishes must never lie soaking in the dish-water because this also injures their decorations. A few of the same kind should be put in the water at a time, washed and immediately removed. This is the chief preventive of chipping and breaking, and it also allows room enough in the water for thorough washing.

The silver is the next thing to wash. If the water has cooled by this time it should be changed, or if one has to be economical, it can be partially changed and more soap added. Usually the flat silver can all be put into the water at once, then washed a few pieces at a time and laid carefully in a drainer or pan. Some housewives prefer to wipe the silver, like the glasses, immediately from the dish-water, but as it has to be washed with soap, there is a good reason for rinsing it. Larger pieces of silver must be put in like the dishes, a piece or two at a time, to prevent dents and scratches.

Next wash plates, never allowing small ones and large ones in the water together, then platters, vegetable dishes, milk pitchers, salad bowl and gravy boat, putting not more than one or two in the water at a time.

As often as dishwater becomes cool or greasy, change it. This is a fixed rule for those who have an ample water supply. If however, it is necessary to be extremely economical with water, it is better to stint the dishwater than the rinsing water.

There are two extreme ways of rinsing dishes and a middle way. One of the extremes is to immerse the dishes in a pan of hot water and wipe them therefrom. This is indeed cleanly but it takes much water and many towels. The other extreme is to arrange them in a drainer and either pour scalding water over them or immerse them for a moment in scalding water and then leave them to dry by their own heat which they do almost instantly. A zealous housewife finds it hard to believe that this is as good as wiping, but the smooth, shining dishes which result from it convince her.

The middle way is to set the dishes in a drainer and pour scalding water over them as in the other case, but this time to complete the work by wiping each piece. They are so nearly dry that the wiping is but a small act, often little more than a keen inspection and a rub for good measure.

Delicate china must not be rinsed with extremely hot water as a sudden change of temperature sometimes breaks it as it does glass.

The rinsing method first described is best for silver for it should be thoroughly rinsed in very hot water and dried with a cloth and vigorous rubbing. Any evaporating process leaves it dull and spotted. As one wipes it, any piece discoloured or dull should be laid aside for special attention. Egg stains can be removed with a little salt, or often just with rubbing them with a cloth which has been used to apply silver polish. If one has no covered shelf or table on which the silver can be laid as it is wiped, it is well to spread a towel to receive it. This saves noise and scratching.

Carafes, decanters, vinegar cruets or any narrow necked articles can be cleaned with chopped white potato, or with crushed egg shells. A combination of crushed egg shells, ¼ cup of salt and ½ cup of vinegar is also good for this purpose. A slim paint brush—the kind used to paint window casings, not pictures—is excellent for washing bottles. The brush end will do the washing and the handle end with a towel over it will do the wiping. There are regular bottle brushes but I have found a paint brush better than any one I have yet tried.

Steel knives, whether plated or not, need special care. They should never, never be laid in water but held in the dish washer's hands while they are washed, then wiped perfectly dry. If they are silver plated they are polished like the rest of the silver except that they are wet as little as possible. If not plated they must be scoured as often as used. This helps to keep them sharp as well as bright. Rest the blades flat on a board when cleaning them, otherwise they may be bent or even broken. After they have been scoured, they must be washed with the same care as before and dried thoroughly. Avoid anything, whether hot water or excessive friction, which greatly heats the blades, for this breaks the handles by expanding the steel pieces which run up into them.

Discoloured knife handles will sometimes whiten if scoured with a piece of lemon dipped in salt and washed off quickly with hot soapsuds. Powdered pumice also whitens them.

After the dishes are washed and wiped, all the cloths and brushes used should be thoroughly washed in hot suds, then carefully rinsed. If they can be hung out in the sun, that is best, but if not, they should be hung where they will dry before they are needed again. One may not be able to spare time to wash or even rinse the towels after every dish washing, but they must positively be washed once a day. Sticky and unpleasant-smelling table appointments quickly result from neglected towels and dishcloths.

And what can be said in praise of dish washing? Well, it is making things clean and there is always satisfaction in that; it is a sign that one more thing is finished and there is satisfaction in that, even though another begins at once; and, personally I like dish washing because it is work that after a little practice can be done almost entirely with hands and eyes, and so the time it takes may be a rest time, or a thought time, or a prayer time as one wills it.

Silver Cleaning.—Some people say silver must be cleaned once a week, others once a fortnight, others contend that once a month is enough. A general rule cannot be made, however, for a thing which depends entirely on particular climate, particular light and heating apparatus and particular standards of care and orderliness. One can only say polish it as often as it needs polishing and not oftener.

Those silver polishes which are intended to be rubbed on the articles and then removed with very hot water are the more desirable. A silver polish which is hard on hands is to be avoided, not merely for the hands' sake but for the silver's.

To clean silver, one requires a soft cloth and a soft hair brush for applying the polish; also several other soft cloths, a piece of chamois skin and a clean, soft brush for polishing.

Rub the polish on smooth surfaces with a soft cloth, on filigree or engraving with a soft brush. Wash in very hot water, wipe with soft cloths, polish with chamois skin and a soft brush. Never touch the silver with bare hands after it comes out of the hot water. To wear a pair of chamois gloves while doing this work is an excellent help and protection.

If silver not constantly in use is kept in canton-flannel bags in a box where there is a piece of gum camphor, it will be as bright when it is taken out as it was when it was put in. The bags are better than tissue paper, for this sometimes contains chemicals which discolour the silver. New silver usually comes in such bags, but the time and money necessary for making bags for older pieces, are saved again and again by the unaided care they take of the silver committed to them. White canton flannel is not good for this purpose, it soils easily and the chemicals used for bleaching it discolour silver.

There remains but to say that ideal dining room and pantry work combine military order with a daintiness which puts pansies into finger bowls. That simple loveliness and devoted thoughtfulness are more necessary in table service than heavy damask and beautiful china. And that, above all, one must not think that care and work expended upon meals are put to a poor use. Family meals are deeply hallowed by long custom and by sacred associations. We shall not be wrong to try earnestly and gladly to make the meal hours times of loveliness and thankfulness and laughter.

IX
THE KITCHEN

(a.) FURNISHINGS

KITCHENS have shrunk in size since the days of our grandmothers, not so much because we know more than our grandmothers as because conditions of living have changed. Kitchens are no longer used to store winter supplies which must be kept from the cold, nor are they now used for laundry and dairy work, spinning and sociability. A house in which there are many workers, in which there is bountiful providing and constant hospitality, still needs a large kitchen; on the contrary, an apartment in which the dining room will barely permit six at table may well have a kitchen in which everything is within hand's reach.

Many of us have no opportunity to choose whether our kitchens shall be large or small. In building a new house, however, the opportunity sometimes presents itself, and some of the things to consider in making the choice are the number of people who are to work in the kitchen, the size and elaborateness of the meals to be prepared there, whether there is to be also a pantry and a store room, whether the laundry work is done in the kitchen and whether the servant or servants have any other place to sit. In regard to these two latter considerations, it may be safely said that a small kitchen and a small laundry are almost invariably better than a large room for both purposes; and that a tiny kitchen and a tiny servants' sitting room are better both for health and comfort than a combination. If it is possible, the kitchen should be used only for cooking, and should contain only such things as are needed for that work.

As a kitchen is a place where especial cleanliness is necessary, soap and water should be no enemy to its contents. Probably a room lined with glazed tiles is the best kitchen, but as yet these are rare.

Walls and Woodwork.—Hard-finish plaster painted some light colour and given a final coating of enamel paint is a satisfactory but somewhat expensive finish for kitchen walls.

There are several kinds of wall covering of the nature of oilcloth which look rather like tiles and may be wiped with water. They are not so good as a finish which becomes part of the substance of the wall.

Oil and varnish rubbed into plaster walls make them light yellow in colour, protect them from being discoloured with steam, and produce a surface which may be frequently washed. A coating of oil followed by a coating of shellac has much the same result.

Old, rough walls are better covered with a light-coloured, very inexpensive paper. If this is coated with shellac the walls may be wiped with a damp mop. Otherwise the paper should be changed frequently. This is the reason it should be inexpensive. It is well always to get a little more kitchen paper than is needed, that when necessity arises badly soiled pieces may be stripped from the walls and new ones fitted into their places.

I once had a whitewashed kitchen and liked it, but it might have looked odd had it opened on a fire-escape instead of the wood-pile.

Two things are chiefly desirable in the finish of kitchen walls and woodwork; it ought not to be hurt by soap and water and it ought to be light coloured. The room is frequently filled with smoke or steam which contains some greasiness; this can only be removed from the walls and ceiling by washing them. People have been known to paint kitchens a dark colour with the idea that they showed dirt less. Dirt should show. Then there is a better chance that it will be removed. Light colours are needed in the kitchen also to prevent dark corners, and to increase the light from the windows. Much sun is a disadvantage to a kitchen; much light is a great advantage. A yellow kitchen cheers my soul, but many housewives like blue or green better. If you do your own work, by all means have the kitchen the light colour most becoming to you, and get your frocks to match; it's a great help.

Floors.—The kitchen floor is a greater problem than kitchen walls. Even tiles have one disadvantage, they are cold to stand on. There are a variety of substances resembling mosaic or tiling in appearance which are put down somewhat like cement or concrete. They are without cracks and easily mopped, but have the same disadvantage of being hard and cold.

A hardwood floor such as one might have in other rooms is easily spotted and injured with the things which are rather likely to be spilled or set upon it. This is true also of a painted floor, with the added objection that heels and chair-legs quickly mar painted wood.

Linoleum is easily cared for and with reasonable usage lasts well. Oilcloth is less expensive than linoleum but is in no way so good. Neither of these floor coverings, nor paint, should be washed with very hot water or with any strong or gritty cleaning substance, nor should they be scrubbed with a stiff brush. Such treatment breaks and spoils glossy surfaces. Wash them with a cloth wrung out of mild luke-warm suds. Wipe them dry, otherwise they will be streaked.

When linoleum begins to show wear a coat of spar-varnish or carriage varnish will restore it satisfactorily. These varnishes are not injured by water, and they dry quickly. A floor varnished at night in dry weather may be walked on as much as necessity requires the next day. It is better in such a case to lay down papers to walk on, and move them often to prevent sticking.

Sheets of newspaper or brown paper should be laid all over a floor before linoleum is put down, otherwise it is almost impossible to get it off the floor when it is worn out.

I wish to copy here a suggestion for finishing a kitchen floor, for which I would gladly acknowledge my indebtedness, but I have merely the paragraph signed G. D. which has been cut from some paper.

Plain, boiled linseed oil is a good finish for the kitchen floor. It should be put on when the floor is new or clean of other finish, and applied as needed afterward. Such a floor will have a pleasing, light-brown colour, will not show marks or scratches, and, kept well oiled, will not spot with grease. Heat the oil and apply at night, rubbing it in well. In the morning wipe with cold water, and the floor is ready for use. Wash it with warm water dashed with a little kerosene.

G. D.

Just a plain floor is a convenient kitchen floor on all days except on those when it must be scrubbed. Such scrubbing is hard, dirty work and takes a good deal of time. And I know of no alleviation; one must down on one's knees and go at it with a scrubbing brush or it will look all the time as if it needed scrubbing.

Rugs.—Rugs are needed in the kitchen wherever much continued standing is done, as in front of the sink and the range or beside the table. They prevent linoleum or oilcloth from becoming worn in one or two spots, they are sometimes needed for warmth, and they are always needed to spare the feet and back of the person who does the kitchen work. It makes as much difference whether one stands for hours on a soft thing or a hard one, as it does whether one sleeps for hours on a board or a mattress. It is as well if kitchen rugs are of so little value that they may frequently be thrown away without regret. A good doormat too shabby to put before the front door is a treasure to lay before the washtubs.

The sink.—If the kitchen sink is under or beside a window, the pots and pans will more surely be clean, and the dish washer will not have the irritation of working in her own light. Sinks are apt to be set too low. For comfort and for health the rim should be about even with the dish washer's waist. It is convenient to have draining boards on both sides of the sink, but by no means always possible.

Whatever material the sink is made of it will need careful cleaning once every day with scouring soap or soap-powder and a scrubbing brush. This is not only good for the sink but for the waste pipes, especially if a pan of hot soapy water is prepared for the scouring and emptied down the pipes when the sink is finished. This will do much toward keeping the pipes from becoming grease clogged. Porcelain or enamelled sinks are, of course, more easily kept clean than iron or tin ones.

Tables.—In a kitchen where there is no sink, the substitute should be a steady table placed as far from the stove as possible. If a definite place is appointed for dish washing even to the choice between two ends of a table, the appliances needed can be hung within reach, and one will naturally pile soiled dishes in that place and go there to wash them without taking thought about it.

Besides this table another will be needed on which cake and bread can be made, or food can be set without fear of contact with soiled dishes or dishwater. This table is equally necessary in kitchens where there is a sink. Sometimes in small kitchens its place is taken by the shelf of a dresser, the tops of the tubs or a board which, when not in use, folds down beside the wall or the dresser. The point is to have some place other than the draining boards where food can be prepared.

You will read in magazines that it is lovely to have kitchen tables covered with white oilcloth. Unfortunately the statement is not always followed by its complement, namely, that such a covering must be protected from being scorched and cut by means of pot boards, asbestos mats or folded newspapers. Several practical cooks and housekeepers have told me that there is nothing so good in the kitchen as a zinc-covered table. It is not pretty but one need never spare it any usage, and at rest times its ugliness may be covered with a cloth. Spots on zinc which will not yield to soap and water can sometimes be removed with vinegar.

Plain wooden tables are hard to keep in satisfactory order. They are easily scorched, easily stained, and they require daily scrubbing.

A pretty kitchen is a pride and delight, but the serviceableness and practicability of its furnishings must be the first consideration in selecting them. Things which have to be constantly remembered and guarded take too much thought and strength to be in place in a workshop. A kitchen should be bright, orderly and noticeably clean, but I think the less it looks like a sitting room the better. Wherever it is possible, maids should have some other place to sit.

Chairs.—For much of the kitchen work a woman needs the reach, muscular leverage and alertness which she gets from standing. There are, however, some things such as preparing fruit and vegetables, stoning raisins and beating eggs which she can do as well sitting down. If the kitchen is as it should be, a workshop, stools are the best seats with which to furnish it. They may be scrubbed, they take up little room, and they afford an opportunity to rest, without an accompanying temptation to loiter. "Sittin' back" is in some places an equivalent phrase for "inactive." It picturesquely explains why people work more alertly sitting on stools than in chairs.

If the kitchen is also the maids' sitting room, it must have comfortable chairs in it. But they should be made of scrubable materials, and cushions should be covered with wash fabrics. Rocking chairs are the worst possible kind for a kitchen, they are especially irritating to the ankles and temper of the cook.

Shelves.—Shelves are necessary for kitchen comfort. They are for dishes, crockery, utensils which can not be hung up and for stores if one has no store closet. As it is easier to have things stand one deep on shelves, more narrow shelves will be needed than wide ones. Some people get along with a few shelves for the sake of having them shut in with glass doors; others have many shelves like open book-cases and keep the pans, dishes, cups and bowls turned upside down. Stores have to be kept in tightly closed receptacles in either case. Most utensils are the better for being kept on open shelves or hung on hooks in the light and air. That is a rare pot closet which is quite agreeable either to eye or nose.

Shelves painted white, or covered with white oilcloth or white paper, are neat and pleasant to look at. Painted ones are probably the least care, they have only to be occasionally washed and few things injure them. Plain wooden shelves ought always to be covered, as they are easily stained and become darkened with dust.

A special shelf or a special place on some shelf is needed for receipt books.

Hooks.—Each utensil which is to be hung up should have its own hook. If two or three are hung on the same hook, it is difficult to take down the undermost article. Rows of hooks should be so arranged that the hooks alternate instead of coming directly under each other. Pots and kettles which are hung up should be turned bottom outward as this protects the insides from dust. The lids of pots and kettles may be easily hung up on a string stretched tightly across the inside of a closet door, or against the wall between two hooks. The handles rest on the string and hold the lids up.

Either a roller for a hand towel or a hook on which one can be hung is a necessary fixture in the kitchen, for a cook needs to wash her hands many times a day.

Curtains.—Shades are necessary to modify the light and to draw at night, but the case seems to be against curtains in the kitchen, even against sash curtains. There should be nothing at the windows to intercept light and free currents of air, and nothing in the room anywhere which catches dust and smoke as curtains do.

Light Fixtures.—Light fixtures are better overhead. An additional side light by the sink, or near both sink and range when possible is a valuable convenience.

Clock.—A good clock should be part of the kitchen furniture for the sake of punctuality. An alarm attachment which can be turned off before it has run completely down is a help to a cook's over-burdened memory. If it is set for the time when the eggs will be boiled, or the bread or a cake must be looked at, or the meat will be roasted, there will then be one less thing to remember and absence from the kitchen will not so invariably cause disaster.

An Ornament.—If you or the cook would like an ornament in the kitchen, the delightful thing to have is a copy of a Delia Robbia terra-cotta. Bright coloured and washable, like the rest of the kitchen! You will laugh perhaps at the idea of carrying the matter of brightness and cleanliness so far, but do you not know how dingy and depressing the kitchens of otherwise clean and lovely houses often are? It is because things which might be cheerful coloured are dull coloured, and because many things are half soiled for the reason that they cannot be easily washed. Sometimes too, it is because nobody cares whether the kitchen is pleasant or not.

(b.) UTENSILS

The number and size of kitchen utensils depend upon the space in which they must be kept and the number of persons in the household. Their quality and, to some extent, their number depend on what we are able to pay for them.

If the space for keeping utensils is small, their number must be kept down to the minimum. Even with ample space, it is well now and then to weed out superfluous or inadequate utensils, for each adds a straw's weight to the work of the kitchen. It is only a straw, but you know what happened to the camel.

One woman who entertains a large family at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and at other times has a household of two with an intermittent maid, buys each year at the five and ten cent store the large utensils and serving dishes needed for the Thanksgiving dinner. She keeps them until after the Christmas dinner, then gives them away and returns to her usual outfit of small things. Perhaps you ask, why not use the big ones all the time instead of having two sizes? Because they take more time, more food, and in the case of the serving dishes, make a poor appearance. A household which constantly changes in number needs two sizes, one small and one large, of each thing in frequent use. Of certain things there should be two or three in any kitchen; such are, bowls, mixing spoons, platters, paring knives, saucepans and double boilers. It is well to get such things of different kinds and of graduated sizes because they are for various uses.

Materials.—The kitchen is prettier if all the utensils are of the same colour and in general of the same material. Expense and practical usefulness, however, must be considered before good looks. If the kitchen is blue, do not buy a bowl with a pink band round it, a cake turner with a red handle and a brown agate pot, when you can perfectly well get them in suitable colours. On the contrary, if the brown pot is a more convenient shape and size than a blue or white one, get the brown one; if a thick iron frying pan cooks food better than a white agate one, take the iron one.

Enamelled utensils are neat, pretty, seldom acted upon by chemicals in the food and are cared for more easily than those of any other material. They are expensive, but last well if they are not abused.

Tin articles are light to handle and cheap, but soon become discoloured and require a good deal of scouring to keep them in fair condition.

Iron utensils are heavy, hard to keep clean and rarely necessary.

Pots and pans are now frequently made of aluminum. It is a luxury to lift them and they are pretty, but they are also costly and easily injured.

Copper utensils have become rare; their chief recommendation is beauty. A College kitchen in Oxford glowing with rows and rows of copper platters and dish covers and pots and kettles remains in my memory as a glory and a splendour. But, my stars! what generations of scourers have toiled to see their crooked images appear in those red-gold surfaces!

Copper articles have a disadvantage beyond requiring much care. If used for food they should be tin lined and the lining kept in good condition, for sometimes chemicals in food form a poisonous combination with the copper. Our ancestors did not have to worry about copper pots. When they were poisoned, they drowned a witch or went on a pilgrimage, and recovered or not according to their constitutions.

Wooden conveniences for the kitchen, such as rolling pins and pastry boards are also gradually giving place to those made of other materials, for the reason that they are less cleanly and less cool than articles made of glass or metal.

Selection.—The cook's personal preferences should be considered whenever kitchen utensils are bought. Many housewives consult their cooks before purchasing new articles. I know one who sends the cook to the shop to do the purchasing. That such thoughtfulness and care are not always exercised is evidenced by the fact that some excellent cooks own a number of cooking utensils themselves because they do not find them in the kitchens in which they work, and can seldom persuade their mistresses to buy them.

The most satisfactory way to get a kitchen outfit is to buy a few things at a time. They will in this way be more carefully selected, the expense will not fall heavily on one week or on one month or even on one year, and there will be things new and old. To have all new things is only a little less inconvenient than to have all old things.

To give a list of appliances most necessary for the kitchen is to make every one who reads it wish to improve it. That may be a good reason for giving it. Be that as it may, here is such a list:

Does it seem a very long list? You would not cook one day in a kitchen fitted with these things without thinking of something else you would like to have. This is an austere list. It contains none of the luxuries which one's heart desires, such as tongs for hulling strawberries.

Care.—Pots and pans require thorough washing and wiping. Wash them with a brush, good hot soapsuds, and occasional applications of a scouring soap. Wipe them with squares of cheese cloth or old flour and sugar bags washed and hemmed for the purpose. These cloths are better than finer or heavier ones for they take up water quickly and are no great loss if they are darkened by tin or iron utensils. The dishcloth is the poorest thing with which to wipe pots and pans, for it cannot possibly be free from soap and grease.

Scouring soap is not intended for direct application. A brush or cloth should first be rubbed on the soap, then on the article to be scoured.

Only utensils made of iron may be scraped. Such treatment quickly defaces and wears out other substances. Scraping may be entirely avoided if every utensil is filled with water as soon as it is no longer needed in cooking. Very greasy things should be filled with warm water and kept warm. If a pot has been burned put a tablespoonful of washing-soda into it and fill it with water. Set it away for a day or a night, or for both, and at the end of the time no scraping will be necessary to get it clean. This must not be done if the pot is made of aluminum, in that case, soak the pot without soda.

Stains may usually be removed from aluminum pots with silver-soap. Whitening such pots with acids is not a very wise thing to do. The better way is to reserve them for delicate uses, they will then not become seriously discoloured.

Do not wash articles made of wood in water in which other things have been washed, for wood absorbs grease. Nor is it well to scour them with a brush or a soap coarse enough to roughen their surfaces.

Iron pots and pans cannot be scrubbed too vigorously. Scrub the frying pan until the inside feels like wet, black satin; it is then truly clean. Both powdered pumice-stone and salt are good for scouring iron or tin articles which are smoked or stained.

Unless precautions are taken, food fried or baked in new pans will stick to them, and will not brown. A new iron frying pan should be scrubbed hard with soap and sand or ashes, and should then have water boiled in it. New cake and bread tins should be scoured, greased and baked.

If you find that the kettle is becoming encrusted with lime from the water, boil vinegar in it. This quickly removes the encrustation if it has not been allowed to grow thick before the attempt is made.

A careful housewife does not wash coffee pots and tea pots in dish water. She empties them, rinses them, scours them a little if they need it, rinses them again, scalds them and finally wipes them dry.

The care of some kitchen contrivances begins before they are bought. That is, when buying such articles as potato mashers, egg beaters and their like, notice whether they have intricacies which will be hard to keep clean. Do not be dazzled by the marvellous mashing or beating performed by a demonstrator, but take the thing in your own hand and see whether it is smooth and simple, and whether there is a way in which it can be easily washed.

It can be said of kitchen dish washing even more emphatically than of pantry dish washing, that going into it up to one's neck is no virtue; better keep out of it as much as possible. To make the work easy, to divest it of disgust, and even to find satisfaction in doing it, are evidences of skill and cleverness.

If one does not take the satisfaction in making things clean previously referred to, or if one has not pleasant thoughts to think while washing pots, then one may pass the time like a rhythmic black mammie and croon and croon a tune which has no end.

X
THE CELLAR, FIRES, PLUMBING, ETC.

IT IS more healthful to have a cellar—a clean cellar—under a house than not to have one.

And why?

Soil has air in it. Sometimes it is good air, sometimes bad air. The soil newly turned up in the fields gives off a fragrance of its own. The earth thrown out on the city pavement by a man looking for a leak in a drain gives off an odour which makes one hurry one's steps. The soil under a house gives off vapours and gases in the same way, good or bad according to location. Inasmuch as we cannot watch the air under the house as we can that in a room and would not always know its quality if we could, it has been found better to dig out a chamber under the house and line it with stones or cement, or even leave it just a hole in the earth into which air can be admitted. For this allows a circulation of upper air under the house which is safer to have there than air from the soil.

The more we can shut out the breath of the soil in towns and cities the better, for such soil is full of drains and gas pipes, and the dirt of streets and crowded houses, and sometimes has buried in it cess-pools and leaking sewers. Unpleasant to think of? Yes, but the thought does very well as a spur to make one keep the cellar clean and dry.

A cellar sealed with cement is the best kind, because the soil-air is shut out unless there comes a crack in the cement. Walls of stone laid in cement are good but not so good, and brick walls are not nearly so good. Stones are a little porous and bricks very porous. Sooner or later moisture comes through either. In the country one often sees cellars with hard earth floors and they are fairly sanitary as long as the soil surrounding the house is used only for cleanly purposes. But before plumbing is put into the house or a sewer into the neighbourhood the cellar should be cemented.

I have seen cellar windows which would not open. They ought to open easily and one at least should be opened for a while every day that it is not snowing or raining. They ought also, to be kept as clean as other windows are, for light is necessary to the healthfulness of the cellar. Have the window openings covered with wire netting, strong enough on the one hand and fine enough on the other to exclude cats and flies.

Every cellar without any exception whatever should be white. White!

They may be painted white or whitewashed white. There are also substances of the nature of calcimine which are somewhat crystalline, and are therefore especially good for whitening dark cellars.

Whitewash is often decried because it rubs off upon things which touch it and also because flakes of it fall upon the floor and into uncovered receptacles. If a little size or thin glue is put into whitewash its objectionableness in these ways is much lessened, and comes to weigh little against its excellent recommendations; it is purifying, it destroys the eggs of insects, it is inexpensive and it requires no special skill to apply it. There are a few words on this last point in the chapter on housecleaning.

Whatever is done to the cellar walls should be done over again once or twice a year. There is much dust, much dampness and much need for more cleanliness even in the cleanest cellars.

It is more convenient if the cellar is divided into rooms, that food and stores of various kinds may be kept separate from the furnace and the fuel. If this is not possible, the next best thing is to have the coalbin enclosed, for the coal makes the worst of the cellar dirt. There should be a window in the coalbin through which the coal can be put in.

One needs shelves in the cellar and receptacles for vegetables. The shelves are better fastened to supports attached to the ceiling than put against the walls. There are then no cracks and corners, for dust, and the shelves are removed from the possible dampness of the wall. Some people advocate the building of bins for vegetables. This is probably advisable if one must store many. For keeping only a few, neat boxes or baskets which may be moved about, are better. If one keeps food in the cellar, a cupboard or safe made of wire netting is a convenience. It should stand on legs which raise it two or three feet off the floor. If preserves and jellies are kept in the cellar, it is desirable to have a cupboard more completely enclosed than the safe, to protect them from dust, quick changes of temperature and dampness.

Shelves, cupboards, bins and partitions should be as white as the walls.

The housewife pays a visit to the cellar now and then with no errand except to look at it. The survey may give her housewifely satisfaction, and it may give her something to do or to have done. She should go with nose alert and eye keen.

Is there any odour noticeable beyond that slight unavoidable cellar smell? If there is, is it a spoiled sweet potato, or clam, or a working jar of canned fruit, or—what? Find it; never rest while there is an objectionable smell in the cellar.

Is there a damp spot on walls or floor? If there is the cause must be found and put an end to. If there is one near the place where the waste pipes leave the house which cannot be accounted for, send for a plumber.

Is there any article out of its place? Is there any pile of things which might be looked over and in part thrown away? Is there any rubbish? Is the wood piled evenly? Is the coalbin swept up? Are the vegetables in boxes or bins and not on the floor or in corners? Are there cobwebs? Does the floor need sweeping? Are the windows clean and some of them open?

If, in spite of everything one can do, the cellar smells a little musty, some unslacked lime put in a box on the floor will help it. In a cellar with an earth floor it is well sometimes to sprinkle lime in the corners and in out-of-the-way places where it will not be walked upon.

Things which must stand permanently in the cellar are the better for having racks to stand upon. Barrels, ashcans, kerosene cans and cases containing bottles sometimes ooze moisture, sometimes absorb moisture from the floor; their bottoms thus become sodden and mouldy.

Slats nailed on cross-pieces and laid on the floor for such things to stand upon, make the cellar and its contents more cleanly and more dry. They are a contrivance of great use and simply obtained. It is, of course, pleasant to have them made by a carpenter, but three discarded bedslats nailed on the flat sides of some short pieces of floor joist make a rack that will hold two barrels, and small racks can be made in a few minutes from the boards of a box cover nailed on the cleats that have held the box together.

When the cellar floor is swept be sure to use something, preferably not water, to lay the dust. This is especially necessary when the furnace is in use. Dampened sawdust is good for this purpose.