"When I have a home I shall have a linen closet just like this," she said, glancing about admiringly.
"Then you cannot begin too soon to learn how to take care of it. Few things require closer supervision than a linen closet, in any home. You must learn to mend; not ordinary mending, but fine darning."
Miss Clyde cast her eye over a pile of sheets. She opened one and handed it to Blue Bonnet, directing her attention to a rent which had been skillfully repaired in one corner.
Blue Bonnet noted the stitches of gossamer fineness with absorbed interest. Then she folded the sheet carefully and handed it back with a sigh.
"I never could do it, Aunt Lucinda. Never, in a thousand years. I know I couldn't. I hate sewing."
"Then I fear you could never have a linen closet like this, Blue Bonnet. Mending represents but a small part of the detail and system necessary to good housekeeping."
"But, maybe, perhaps I could hire some one. Couldn't I, don't you think?"
"You certainly could not instruct servants if you did not know how to work, yourself. That would be quite impossible. Could your teachers have imparted their knowledge to you if they, themselves, had not been students?"
The argument seemed plausible. Blue Bonnet's sigh deepened.
"I shall employ a trained housekeeper," she said, as if that settled the question.