A Little Housekeeping Book for a Little Girl Part 3

After breakfast Margaret went up-stairs and shut the windows of her room, and a little later, when it was warm, she and her aunt put on fresh white ap.r.o.ns and went in and began to put it to rights.

One stood on each side of the bed and turned the mattress from head to foot; the next day, Margaret was told, it must be turned from side to side as well as over, to keep it always in good shape. If this was not done constantly there would soon be a hollow place in the middle, which would never come out, and the mattress would be spoiled. They laid over it the nice white pad which kept it looking always new and clean, and then the lower sheet, the wide hem at the top and the narrow one at the bottom, the seams toward the mattress, and tucked it smoothly in at the sides.

"Some people are careless about these little things," said the aunt as they worked. "They think it does not matter if there is a hollow in the mattress, or whether they have a cover for it or not. They mix the top and bottom sheets, and never know which is which; but you are going to do things the right way, which is always the easiest in the end."

They laid the upper sheet on with the wide hem at the top, as before, but with the seam up instead of down. Margaret wondered at this, but was told that this way made the two smooth sides of the sheets come next to the one who slept between them, and at the same time made the upper sheet turn over at the top with the seam underneath.

When the blankets went on, the Pretty Aunt said she was thankful to notice that Margaret's mother always cut hers in two.

"What for?" asked the little girl.

"Well," was the reply, "double blankets are difficult to handle. They are really one long blanket folded together, and one-half sometimes slips and gets wrinkled, and is hard to get into place. Then, half-blankets are more easily aired than whole ones, and more easily washed, also. And if one is too warm in the night, and wishes to throw off half of the clothes, it can be done without pulling the bed to pieces. It is simple enough to cut a pair in two and bind the edges with ribbon so the colors will match, and it well pays for the small trouble."

"I sometimes wish I had a nice, fat comfortable instead of two blankets," said Margaret. "I know a girl who has such a hot one, all made of cotton and cheesecloth."

"They are not nearly as healthful as blankets, my dear, nor so easily kept clean. People who own them would hate to have to tell how seldom they are washed, because they are so heavy to handle that it is put off month after month, and season after season. A pretty little silkolene coverlet to lay on the foot of the bed, such as you have, or a small eiderdown puff, is very nice, but blankets are the things to sleep under. Now let us put the white spread on."

"But, auntie," objected Margaret, "you haven't tucked anything in! Just see, not the sides nor the bottom! I don't like to have my feet out all night; I like to be tucked in all nice and warm. Shan't we tuck in everything as we go along? That's the way Bridget does when she makes my bed."

Her aunt laughed. "Just wait!" she said. Then she put on the white spread, and smoothed it nicely all over, and told Margaret to stand opposite to her at the side of the bed near the foot, and do as she did.

First she turned the spread back, just as though it was at the top instead of the bottom; then she turned back one blanket; then the other; then the upper sheet, and next the lower one, leaving the mattress and pad showing. They raised the mattress, and putting their hands under all the folded back clothes at once, they put them under the end of it smoothly, pushing them well back; then they tucked in the sides. "There," said the aunt, nodding her pretty head at her little niece, "I'd like to see you pull those clothes out at night, as you do when Bridget makes your bed! If you tuck things in one by one sometimes they will come out, but if you tuck them in as we have done they are sure to stay. Now for the top."

She turned over the spread, blankets, and sheet, and laid them flat on the spread, and then turned them under themselves, making a smooth, rather narrow fold, close up to the place the pillows were going to stand.

"If the sheet was mussed I would not do this," she explained. "Then I would just lay all the clothes back under the pillows; but when the sheet is fresh it looks nice this way. Beat up the pillows, smooth them out, and stand them up evenly. Remember, if you have a white spread with a fringe on it and a muslin valance around the bed, the spread is not tucked in at all, but after the bed is finished and tucked in all around, it is laid on and left hanging over sides and foot.

"If, instead of a spread, you have a figured cover, or one made of lace or muslin, you do not use any spread, but put that on over the blankets during the day and take it off at night. A roll covered with the same stuff is used with such a bed cover, and at night this, too, is put away and the pillows brought out from the cupboard and put on when the bed is opened. The bed in the guest-room is like that; you know it has a pretty cover and a roll. But whatever you have, it is always nice to have the bed opened for one at night, the clothes folded smoothly back, the spread laid away and the pillows put down flat, so all one has to do is to slip in."

"I know," Margaret replied. "It makes you feel sleepy to see a bed like that."

"Now let us take the wash-stand," her aunt went on, after she had pa.s.sed her hands all over the bed as though she were ironing it, leaving it as smooth as a nice white table. "Get the cloths from the bathroom, a clean white one, you know, and a clean colored one; and the soap."

She showed Margaret how to wash everything out neatly, beginning with the tooth-brush mug and soap-dish, and she was told to look carefully and see if they were both clean in the bottom, "because probably they are not," she said. The wash-bowl was washed with soap, especially where there was a greasy streak around it, and the pitcher was filled, and wiped where the water dripped down the front. The dark cloth was used on the rest of the china; it was better to have two cloths of different colors, her aunt explained, to avoid mixing them.

After the stand was finished, and the top wiped off with the white cloth, the cloths were both washed out in the bathroom and put away, with the soap. The towels were folded in the creases they had been ironed in, and pulled into shape and rehung; the wash-cloth was wrung dry and shaken out before it was hung up on the rack. The cake of soap had been washed off in the bowl when that was washed, and it was now put back in the clean dish. "Whatever you forget, Margaret, never forget to wash off the soap!" her aunt warned her.

There seemed a good deal to do to make the room nice even after the bed and wash-stand were done, for the closet was opened and everything taken out and put on chairs around the room, and then put back. The dresses had to be hung up by the loops on the skirt, and the waists which matched hung each on the same hook with its own skirt by the loops at the sleeves. The petticoats had to go by themselves in a separate part of the closet, and the shoes were all put in pairs in the bag on the door, instead of being left on the floor in piles. Margaret did not like to do these things, but she had to admit that she could dress faster in the morning when she knew just where everything was, and when she could find mates to her shoes in just half a second, instead of having to take a minute or more to hunt them in the corners of the closet on the floor.

Arranging the bureau was still worse than making the closet tidy. All the drawers were emptied out, and everything sorted in heaps and put away. Some pretty boxes without covers were brought from her aunt's bureau and put in Margaret's upper drawer, one for gloves, one for handkerchiefs, one for ribbons, so that everything should be where it belonged, yet as soon as the drawer was opened one could see where everything was. Underclothes were made into neat piles, and arranged in the drawers below, one sort of thing in one pile and another in another, and the stockings laid in a nice row, mates together, folded and tucked in, ready to go on.

The top of the bureau had many pretty silver ornaments, but they were dull and shabby, and Margaret had to get the silver polish and a bit of chamois and make them shine before they could go on the fresh bureau-cover the aunt put on, and she was given a bit of velvety stuff to tuck in a corner of a drawer, ready to use every day or two, so they would not grow dull again.

When all else was done they brushed up the floor, dusted everything thoroughly, straightened the pictures on the wall and the window-shades, and set the chairs where they would look best. Then Margaret sat down to rest, and her aunt finished the lesson in this way:

"A lady," she began, "no matter whether she is grown up or not, always keeps her bedroom in beautiful order, fresh and dainty, especially the places which do not show, like bureau drawers! Her closet has plenty of hooks, and her gowns are kept together, each on one. Her hats are in their boxes on the shelves, her shoes in their bag. Her bureau is orderly, the silver clean and shining. Her hair-brush is washed at least once a week, to keep it white and fresh, and the comb is never allowed to have bits of hair in it, but is as clean as the brush. Her wash-stand is always perfectly clean and tidy, and nothing is ever left about in the room. Most important of all, the air of her room is always fresh and sweet, because the window is left open at night and often opened during the day for a time. Now this has been a good long lesson to-day--it's almost noon; but if you have learned it, you have not wasted a minute of even this nice bright Sat.u.r.day. There's a prize offered by this teacher for perfect lessons. Keep your room in order for a month, and see what you'll find on your bureau then!"

"Oh, what?" cried Margaret, running after her Pretty Aunt as she went out into the hall.

"Wait and see!" was all she would say, but Margaret decided to keep the room beautifully tidy for the prize, just the same.

CHAPTER VI

SWEEPING AND DUSTING

Margaret could hardly wait for the time for her sweeping lesson, because she wanted so much to wear her sweeping-cap. When she heard her mother say one Sat.u.r.day morning that the lesson that day would be on the care of the parlors and hall, she asked to be excused from the breakfast-table, and ran up and put on her long-sleeved ap.r.o.n and the pretty little cap with the red bow in front, and came down proud and smiling.

The halls and stairs were of hardwood, so Margaret selected from the broom-closet the long-handled floor-brush, the large dust-pan and the small one, a flat wicker beater for the rugs, the bottle of floor oil, and the flannel cloth which was with it, a certain small dish kept especially for the oil, and some of her new dust-cloths. She tried to remember all the things her mother had told her to get, but, after all, she forgot the broom, and had to go back twice for it, the second time because she brought the wrong one. The very best broom, used only on the freshest carpets, had a red tape tied around the handle, so it would not get mixed with the one used in the dining-room, or the rest of the house.

Bridget helped carry out the rugs and put them over the clothes-line, and Margaret gently struck them with the wicker beater till all the dust was out. She knew she would injure them if she pounded as hard as she wanted to, so she was very careful to hit them softly, but to do it so often that they were clean when she was done. She laid them on the back porch, and brushed them with the whisk-broom afterward until they were like new; then they were folded and left in a corner of the dining-room, ready to go down when the halls were done.

Her mother told her to go to the very top of the house and shut the doors of the rooms all the way down that no dust could get in. Then they moved the table and chair and umbrella jar out of the hall, and carried the coats and hats to the closet, and shut them up. The upper hall was very dark with all the doors closed which usually lighted it, so the gas was lit, that the corners might be easily seen. Beginning at the top of the house Margaret swept down the halls and stairs all the way, using her long-handled brush and taking a little whisk-broom, which was also soft for the corners and the stairs, putting the dust into the pan as she went along, especially on the stairs.

Her mother wanted her to let Bridget wipe off the wood with oil, but Margaret begged to be allowed to do at least one floor and the lower stairs, so she would know just how to do it in her very own house, when she had one! She put on a large, strong pair of gloves, put a little oil in the dish from the bottle, dipped in her flannel cloth, and was going to begin when her mother stopped her. "Wring out the cloth," she said; "you are not going to wash the floor, only to wipe it." Then she went away until this part of the work was done, so she might not step on the wood while it was wet, and perhaps spoil the whole floor.

The work was not very pleasant, perhaps, and the oil did not smell very nice, but it was interesting to do something new, and Margaret did not mind it at all. She wiped up one floor and one flight of stairs, and then wiped also the baseboard around the floor and the bal.u.s.trades of the stairs, and when she was done it all looked so fresh and nice she wished she had done all the halls. However, she put away the oil and cloth and floor-brush, and, setting the front door open to let the air come in and dry the wood and carry away the odor of the oil, she dusted the rest of the halls with her ordinary dust-cloth, wiping the tops of the pictures well, and the hall table and chair, which Bridget helped her put back. They brought in the step-ladder, too, so that Margaret could get to the chandelier and the top of the doors, and wipe these off thoroughly.

The vestibule had been swept and dusted early in the morning, and there was nothing to do outside, but the gla.s.s in the front door looked dingy, and Margaret wiped it off with a clean, damp cloth and polished it with the chamois duster and shook out the lace which hung over it, and dusted the edges of the gla.s.s and the wood of the door. Then she ran and got the rugs and spread them down, and called her mother to come and see how beautiful the halls looked.

"Beautiful! I should think so, indeed!" her mother exclaimed. "I could not have done the work better myself. What made you think of the gla.s.s in the door? I forgot to tell you about that."

"Oh," said Margaret, "I pretended I was a new maid, and that you were showing me all about the work, and first I said to myself, 'Next, Mary Jane, the front door,' and then I was Mary Jane, and did the front door, you see!"

Her mother smiled. "Well, certainly, Mary Jane does her work thoroughly," she said. "I am sure I shall keep her. Now if you are not tired we will do the parlors."

These two rooms took all the rest of the Sat.u.r.day morning lesson. The window-curtains and portieres were pinned up and put into bags, long, loose ones, which kept them off the floor and out of the dust, but did not muss them. They dusted the piano and large sofa and covered them with strong sheets. They wiped off the book-shelves, and tucked newspapers in and out until all the books were entirely covered and protected. They brushed off the cushions of the chairs with a whisk-broom as they had the sofa, and wiped their woodwork, and then carried them into the dining-room; the sofa-pillows were shaken and beaten and put there also. All the ornaments on the tables and mantels, and the lamps, were wiped and put on the dining-room table.

When the rooms were as empty as possible they shut the doors and sprinkled bran on the carpets just as though they were sewing garden seeds, which Margaret thought was great fun.

"Some people use tea-leaves on their carpets," her mother explained, "and as they are damp they do take up the dust nicely; but they will stain delicate colors so, I think it is safer to use bran, which also takes up dust but never hurts any carpet. Now I will show you how to sweep."

Beginning at one side of the room near the wall, she made long, even strokes with the broom, not bearing on too hard, and sweeping toward the centre all the time. "Don't give little jerky dabs at the carpet," she cautioned, "for that is bad for it, and don't sweep from one side to the other, but always toward the middle. But we forgot to open the window."

Margaret pushed up the one nearest to her and instantly in rushed the wind, scattering bran and dust all over the floor. Her mother hurried to shut it. "You must find out from which way the wind comes before you open the window," she said. "That one did more harm than good. Try the other one."

When this was open they could not feel any breeze at all, and it seemed as though it was not worth opening, but the mother said it was exactly right, for it made a draught, and carried all the dust gently outdoors.

After a time Margaret took the broom and finished the floor, and when the dust lay in a little pile in the middle, her mother held the pan for her and she swept it all up, except a little which refused to come on; this they brushed up with the whisk-broom; they also brushed out all the corners of the room with the whisk and pan, because the broom was so large that it would not go in easily, and a little bit of dust had been left in each one. The carpets looked nice and fresh when they had finished.

"Once in awhile," the mother said, "it is a good plan to have Bridget wipe off the carpets quickly with warm water in which a little ammonia has been put. She squeezes out a cloth almost dry and works quickly, not to wet the carpet too much, and the ammonia brings out the colors and makes the whole look like new. Some housekeepers like to put a couple of tablespoonfuls of turpentine in the water instead of the ammonia, and this is just as good for the carpet, and if there is any fear of moths being in it, it is even better. Every two or three months a carpet ought to be wiped off in one way or the other to keep it nice. Now while we wait for the dust to settle we will make the marble mantel clean. You can get a basin of water, the sapolio, a flannel cloth, and a white cotton one."

They wet the cake of soap a little and rubbed the flannel on it and scrubbed the mantel thoroughly, and then the hearth, rinsing them off and wiping them dry afterward. They also wiped off the fireplace, using a dry cloth here, too, for fear of rust, and then took a damp one to wipe off the baseboard. If there had been a wood floor, that would have had to be treated just as the halls had been--brushed up with the soft brush, and wiped off with floor oil. And, her mother explained, if the halls had been carpeted Margaret would have had to sweep them with the broom and use the whisk in the corners and on all the stairs, one at a time, carefully.

By this time there seemed to be no dust left in the air, so they wiped the pictures off with a clean duster, especially on the top where Bridget's duster sometimes failed to go. The sheets were taken off the sofa and piano next, and they were lightly dusted again, "just to make sure," Margaret said.