"Oh, Mother says that they are splendid girls," Owen said, bashfully eager, "just the kind that go in for trained nursing, you know, or stenography, or bookkeeping."
"They must be a solid comfort, those girls," said Mrs. Salisbury, leaning over to read certain pages with the others. "'First year,'" she read aloud. "'Care of kitchen, pantry, and utensils—fire-making—disposal of refuse—table-setting—service—care of furniture—cooking with gas—patent sweepers—sweeping—dusting—care of silver—bread—vegetables—puddings—'"
"Help!" said Sandy. "It sounds like the essence of a thousand Mondays! No one could possibly learn all that in one year."
"It's a long term, eleven months," her father said, deeply interested. "That's not all of the first year, either. But it's all practical enough."
"What do they do the last year, Mother?"
Mrs. Salisbury adjusted her glasses.
"'Third year,'" she read obligingly. "'All soups, sauces, salads, ices and meats. Infant and invalid diet. Formal dinners, arranged by season. Budgets. Arrangement of work for one maid. Arrangement of work for two maids. Menus, with reference to expense, with reference to nourishment, with reference to attractiveness. Chart of suitable meals for children, from two years up. Table manners for children. Classic stories for children at bedtime. Flowers, their significance upon the table. Picnics—'"
"But, no; there's something beyond that," Owen said. Mrs. Salisbury turned a page.
"'Fourth Year. Post-graduate, not obligatory,'" she read. "'Unusual German, Italian, Russian and Spanish dishes. Translation of menus. Management of laundries, hotels and institutions. Work of a chef. Work of subordinate cooks. Ordinary poisons. Common dangers of canning. Canning for the market. Professional candy-making—'"
"Can you beat it!" said Owen.