“Yes,” replied her mother. “I have often seen the candle moulds. They looked like a row of tin tubes fastened together. The wicks were hung in the middle of the tubes, and the melted tallow was poured in around them. When the candles were hard and cold, they were slipped out ready for use.”
“Your grandmother must have been smart. What relation was she to me?” asked Ruth.
“Your great-grandmother, dear. She was ‘smart,’ indeed. She made not only candles, but soap.”
“Soap!” said Ruth in surprise.
“Yes, and butter,” said Mrs. Duwell.
“Your great-grandfather was ‘smart,’ too,” said Mr. Duwell. “Why, Wallace, he butchered a pig or two, and sometimes a cow in the fall for the winter’s meat.”
“Weren’t there any grocers or butchers?” asked Wallace.
“Yes, indeed; your great-grandmother was the grocer, and your great-grandfather was the butcher for the family.”
“But weren’t there any stores?”
“Yes, the stores were in the big kitchen pantry, the cellar, and the ice-house.”