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.