LITTLE THINGS THAT ARE TRIFLES.
I feel that in writing a chapter upon ways and means I may seem to
many readers to be going over an oft-traversed road. Of articles and
treatises on the ever-vexing subject there is no end. The whole human
creation or, at all events, a vast majority of it, groaneth and
travaileth together in the agony of trying to spread a little
substance over a vast surface,--in the desperate endeavor to make a
little money go a very long way. Every few months we notice in a daily
newspaper the offer of a money-prize for the best bill of fare for a
company-dinner for six people, to be prepared upon a ludicrously-small
allowance. The number of contestants for this prize proves, not only
the general interest felt in the subject, but also testifies to the
urgent need of the reward on the part of the various would-be winners.
The probabilities are that few of these writers have the means to set
forth such a dinner as they describe.
Books portraying the feasibility of "Comfortable living on seven
hundred a year," or "How to keep house on a restricted income," are
both helpful and pernicious. The prospective housewife buys them
eagerly and devours them with avidity. She and John are boarding now,
but are soon to have a home of their own, and after perusing their
newly purchased volumes, they decide that their limited income will
amply enable them to live in comfort although, perhaps, not in luxury.
The tiny house or flat is rented, and they settle down, as Mrs.
Whitney's Emery Anne would say, "to realize their geography," or, more
properly speaking, to live their recently acquired knowledge, which
is, in many points, very useful.
But--and here comes the mischief wrought by over-sanguine
literature--the authors of these books leave too many things out of
the question. The expenses of moving and the purchase of necessary
furniture are, of course, omitted, but Mary finds to her chagrin that
fuel--no slight item in any family,--and light,--also absolutely
essential,--have not been taken into account. These make a big hole in
the income which had seemed all-sufficient. It is expedient, also,
occasionally, to have a woman in to do a day's cleaning, and the
weekly wash is a bugbear which makes our young people shudder. The
poor little housewife has many an anxious, tearful hour in striving to
make both ends meet, while the most amiable husband cannot help
wondering audibly "how it is they cannot live as cheaply as other
people do."
In housekeeping, as in all else, one must learn the lesson for one's
self. All the rules and theories in all the books and periodicals in
the country are worth little compared with three months of personal
experience. Happy is the young wife who has had some practice in
housekeeping in her father's house before the heavier responsibility
of a home of her own rests on her shoulders.
Let me remind our Mary, first of all, of the truth that there is no
meanness in economy, and that--as I cannot repeat too often or too
strongly--waste is vulgar. It is not the lady who scorns to save
scraps of butter, who throws the few cold boiled potatoes left from
dinner into the ash-barrel, and empties the teaspoonful of cream from
the bottom of the pitcher into the kitchen sink. Your servant will not
have the brains and foresight to detect in these seemingly useless
articles factors which may aid materially in the construction of a
delicacy, or "help out" to-morrow's breakfast or lunch. It is amazing
to the mistress who is her own cook how long things last and how far
they go. All the interest which a hired cook may take in her work does
not impart the peculiar care which one feels for that which is one's
own.
In this point the woman without a domestic has the advantage over the
woman with a servant, and she with one maid-of-all-work is better off
than she who keeps two. Every extra mouth counts, and the waste caused
by each added Bridget or Gretchen is incalculable. The only redress
which the housekeeper with a servant has, is constant vigilance and
personal supervision, and even then she is the loser. At the South the
servants are used to having provisions kept under lock and key. Each
day the mistress deals out the requisite flour, butter, eggs, etc.,
and the cook is perfectly satisfied. Were a Northern housekeeper to
adopt this system she would soon have the misery of engaging new
servants. The Irish and Germans among us are not accustomed to such
restrictions, and will not tolerate them.
To utilize the little "left-overs," then, Mary must make up her mind
to do much of her own cooking. If she has a servant in the kitchen,
she may frequently so exchange work with her that the preparation of
dainty dishes will fall to her share. Norah may sweep the parlor, wipe
up the hall floor, or wash the windows while her mistress is attending
to cooking too delicate for the domestic's fingers. The servant may do
what I call the heavy kitchen-work, such as preparing vegetables for
cooking, chopping meat, peeling potatoes, etc., and she should always
be allowed to wash pots, pans and kettles, after the cooking is done.
But if the mistress will spend half an hour in the kitchen before each
meal, John will soon discover that his food has a delicacy of flavor
and is served with a daintiness imparted only by a professional French
cook,--or a lady.
Another of the petty economies which is not belittling is the washing
of one's own dining-room dishes. The money saved by this process is
easily understood by the housewife whose cut-glass and egg-shell china
are continually smashed to fragments by the hirelings whose own the
fragiles are not. The china bill for one year of the woman with many
servants assumes proportions so huge that she is actually afraid to
let herself consider its enormity. And there are still more things
broken of which she is never told until the day comes when this or
that article is needed, and the answer to inquiry is:
"An' sure ma'am, such a thing aint niver been in this house sence iver
I come into it."
And as there is no way of proving the falsity of this statement, one
must submit.
As I have said before, dish-washing, as done by a lady, takes little
time and labor, and may be a pleasant occupation. The laborer, not the
labor, makes a thing common or refined. With an abundance of scalding
hot water, a soap-shaker, mop, gloves with the tips cut off, clean and
soft dish-towels, and delicate glass and china, dish-washing is in
every sense of the word a lady's work. The mistress will do it in
one-third of the time, with five times the thoroughness, and one-tenth
as many breakages as will the average servant. And when the dishes are
washed and the table is spread for the next meal with pure linen,
glistening glass and shining silver--who dares say that the glow of
housewifely pride and satisfaction does not more than compensate for
the little time and trouble expended to produce the agreeable result?
I have said that every additional mouth counts in the sum of family
expenses, and for this reason many housekeepers of moderate means
neglect the duty of hospitality. Pardon me if I say that I think this
is one of the economies which, if carried too far, is more honored in
the breach than in the observance. I do not advocate, indeed I
reprehend, pretentious entertaining, such as dances, parties, etc. But
it impresses me that it is, to a certain extent, a mean spirit that
counts the cost in asking a friend to stay to a repast, to spend a
night or a week. It is your duty to have things so nice every day, and
always, that you cannot be too much "put out" by an occasional guest.
When you invite your friend to make you a visit, explain that you live
quietly, and that he will find a warm welcome. Then give him just what
you give John, and make no apologies. Above all, do not let him feel
that any additional labor caused by his presence throws the whole
course of the household machinery out of gear. Do not invite to your
home those for whom you have to make so great a change in your daily
life. If you keep house as a lady should, you need not fear to
entertain anyone who is worthy to be your friend. It is no disgrace if
your circumstances are such that you cannot afford to keep a staff of
servants at your beck and call.
These suggestions are but hints as to daily management. First and
foremost, Mary must learn to systematize her work. Method and
management do wonders toward saving time and money. Some housewives
are always in a hurry and their work is never done, while others with
twice as much to do never seem flurried, and have time for writing,
sewing and reading. The secret of the success of the latter class lies
in that one golden word--METHOD.
I hope the young housekeepers to whom this talk is addressed will not
consider such trifles as I have mentioned, degrading. It is the work
laid before them and consequently cannot be mean. Such labor, when
sweetened by the thought of what it all means, is ennobling. I know
that Keats tells us that:
"Love in a hut with water and a crust,
Is--Love forgive us!--cinders, ashes, dust!"
If Love were really there, "cinders, ashes, dust" could not be, and the
water and crust may, by our Mary's skillful treatment, be transformed
into a refreshing beverage and an appetizing _entrée_. My faith in the
powers of John's wife is great, and if John be satisfied, and tells her
that he has the best little love-mate and housekeeper in the world, can
she complain?