THE LINEN CLOSET; PANTRIES; POLISHING SILVER; THE CARE OF THE
REFRIGERATOR; CLEANING THE LAMPS
"I think," said the Pretty Aunt one day, "we must be coming to the end
of the Saturday morning lessons. We have had the kitchen and
dining-room, the bedrooms, halls, and parlors, the bathroom, cellar,
attic, and vestibule. I really can't think of anything else to teach
Margaret about the care of the house."
"Why," exclaimed the Other Aunt, "I can! I can think of five or six
things you have not said a word about; all important ones, too!"
"How nice!" laughed the Pretty Aunt, "because now you can give the
lesson!"
Margaret had felt disappointed when she thought the lessons were over,
for she liked to learn something new each week; so when she was told to
put on a clean apron and be ready in half a minute, she ran off in a
hurry.
Her aunt was in the upper hall when she appeared, with the door of the
linen closet open, and she told Margaret they would begin here.
"This little room is the one good housekeepers are especially fond of,"
she began. "Clean, white linen, polished and beautiful, is a joy to look
at and handle, and every woman is proud if she has a quantity, all
nicely kept. Let us begin with the shelves, taking them in order, and
see what is on each."
The top one held blankets, each pair folded together smoothly and pinned
up in a clean, strong piece of white cotton cloth, and labelled. The
first label read, "Guest-room blankets," and when they were opened there
lay a fresh, soft, fleecy pair, with a lovely border of pale pink, and
edges of broad pink ribbon.
"This is your mother's very best pair of blankets," began her aunt.
"They are cut in two and bound alike at each end, you see; they have
never been washed or cleaned yet, so they are still very white and soft.
By and by they will begin to look a little soiled, and then they will be
cleaned perhaps, once or twice, and presently they will be washed, and
they will not be nearly as nice as they are now, though well-washed
blankets should still be fleecy and white."
"'Soft, warm water, with suds of white soap,'" murmured Margaret,
reviewing her laundry lesson; "'rub with your hands, rinse in the same
sort of water as you used in washing, with a little borax or ammonia,
and they will look like new.'"
"Splendid!" said her aunt. "I see you can wash blankets to perfection.
But even so, some day there will be new ones for the guest-room, and
these will be on one of the family beds. The next two or three bundles,
you see, are clean, washed blankets, in pairs, laid away till they are
needed. All blankets have to be put on the line in the sunshine
frequently whether they are washed or not, or they may be eaten by
moths.
"Here are a few clean comfortables next, on this second shelf, done up
like the blankets. These have to be washed, too, and are more difficult
to manage than blankets, because they are so heavy; they have to be
aired often to keep them sweet, for the cotton holds odors easily. Then
come the white spreads, the heavy Marseilles in one pile, the lighter
ones in another, and the single ones and double ones kept separate.
"The third shelf holds towels, you see. This pile is for the best ones;
notice how beautifully they are ironed and folded, and how the
embroidered initials stand out. The ordinary bedroom towels come next;
see how many your mother has, and how each kind is by itself: the
hemstitched ones in one pile, the plain huckaback in another; those with
colored borders in this one, and the bath towels in that. Any one could
come in and get a towel in the dark, sure of taking just the right one.
You must remember always to keep your own towels just this way; too many
people mix them in in any careless fashion, and do not take the trouble
to have them arranged neatly, but it's the best way to do.
"The sheets and pillow-cases are in these deep drawers. This top one has
the double sheets and the best linen ones; notice how they lie in piles,
each kind by itself, just like the towels. They are all marked on the
narrow edge, and so they can be recognized at a glance; the large sheets
have your mother's full name. In this next drawer are the single bed
sheets, marked with her first initials, and her last name. The servants'
sheets have only her three initials. You see how easy it is to tell
which is which. The pillow-cases are marked in the same way, and put in
piles. You must be sure when you have a washing to put away that you do
not put the clean things on top of each pile, and then take them off
again to use at once; put things on top and take them off the bottom of
the pile, so they will all be used in turn. Now for the table-linen."
This was in another drawer, and Margaret exclaimed when she saw how
beautiful it was. The cloths were like satin, the napkins which matched
lay in dozens by them; the every-day cloths and napkins were by
themselves, and the small lunch-cloths had a pile of their own. The
doilies were in a smaller drawer, all in piles, too, and the pretty
centrepieces were fastened around stiff paper made into rolls.
"If you ever have lovely table-linen you will want to keep it nicely,"
said the aunt. "I think it is high time you had some, too. I believe in
the old German custom of making a linen-chest for each girl; so learn
your lesson well, and when your birthday comes who knows what you'll
get? Perhaps a lunch-cloth or some embroidered napkins!"
"I'd like some towels, too," Margaret said, soberly. "I guess I'd like
to have some linen every birthday."
"Very well, I'll remember," said her aunt as they closed the drawers.
"And when you really begin to fill your chest I will make you some
pretty bags of lavender to lay among your sheets and pillow-cases to
make them smell sweet. We will go down-stairs now."
The pantry shelves were looked over next; in the china-closet in the
dining-room everything was in order; the dishes neatly arranged on white
paper, with pretty scalloped flouncings hanging over the front. The
plates were piled in sets, the platters were together, the glasses and
small dishes on the sides of the closet where the shelves were short.
There was really nothing to be done here, so they went into the kitchen.
The pantry where the pots and pans stood had rather dingy papers, and
they decided to have a good cleaning. They took everything off and
washed the shelves with warm water and borax and wiped them dry, and put
on fresh papers. The tins and dishes which were seldom used, were then
arranged on the highest shelf, and those which were used every day were
put lower down. The little things, such as the skimmer, the small sieve,
the egg-beater, and the spoons, were hung on nails driven into the edge
of the shelf which was over the baking-table in the kitchen, where stood
also the cups, bowls, and plates used in cooking, within easy reach.
When they were done, the aunt said, "Always watch for ants in the
pantry, and roaches and water-bugs in the sink. Ants hate borax, so you
can put that on the shelves in all the corners, and it will help keep
them away. Roaches come to the sink for food, and you must see to it
that they do not find it. Keep it perfectly clean and scalded out,
especially at night, and never let the sink-basket have any crumbs in
it. If, in spite of everything, the bugs do come, put insect powder on
the corners of all the woodwork and use washing-soda to flush the drain
every day, and they will get discouraged and leave your house for
somebody else's, where there is something in the sink for them. Now for
the refrigerator."
Margaret helped empty this entirely, setting the things in it on the
table, and putting the ice in a large dish. They looked underneath at
the pan into which the ice drained and found it half-full, so they
emptied it. Then the lesson began as usual.
"You see all these little covered bowls and plates with bits of food on
them. We never put nice china dishes in a refrigerator, for fear of
breaking them; this heavy, yellow ware is just the thing, and a saucer
can go over each bowl. We do not put anything in which has a strong
odor, such as onions or cheese, or they would make everything taste like
themselves. Butter must be in a covered crock, and milk in bottles with
a tight top. Warm food must never go in, or it will waste the ice. Let
us look in the top; you see there is a nice piece of ice, all covered up
with a bit of old blanket, so it will last. You must watch and see that
you do not take more ice than you really need and use it economically.
Some people never cover it at all, because it keeps the food colder if
it is left so, but often it is unnecessary; there may be little food in
the box, and that would keep as well if it were not quite as cold. Now
you may get a basin of water, two clean cloths, and the borax, and I
will show you how to clean a refrigerator."
Margaret put a tablespoonful of borax in the water, rung out her cloth,
and washed out all the inside of the great box, poking a little stick
into the corners, and scrubbing the shelves thoroughly, as well as the
sides and bottom. Then she wiped them dry and the food was put in again
neatly. There had been a small pan of charcoal in one corner, and this
was emptied on a paper and the pan refilled from a bag near by and put
back.
"What do you put black charcoal in the clean box for?" Margaret asked,
curiously.
"Because it dislikes a disagreeable odor, and destroys it at once," her
aunt replied. "We change this pan every few days because it will take up
only so much, while fresh charcoal will keep everything sweet and nice;
Bridget burns up what is not fresh, putting it in the fire when she
wants to broil or toast, for it makes a clear fire without flame. It
only costs a few cents for a large bagful, and we can always have it on
hand.
"Remember to wash out your refrigerator at least three times a week.
This is very important, indeed; if you forget it somebody in the family
may be very ill. If you have not time to wash it out and still sweep the
parlors, let the parlors go!"
Just as they finished they noticed the garbage pail outside the door and
took a look into it. It was nearly empty, so Margaret got a dipper of
boiling water and a handful of washing-soda and put them in, as her aunt
told her, to keep the pail from getting greasy and sour. "The better the
housekeeper the less she has in her garbage pail, and the cleaner it is
kept," she said, as she put back the cover.
"We have still one pleasant thing and one disagreeable thing to do
before we are done this morning; which would you rather take first?"
asked the aunt.
Margaret said she thought she would keep the pleasant one to finish off
with.
"Then get a newspaper," was the reply, "and spread it over the table,
first of all."
"That's the way most kitchen lessons seem to begin," said Margaret, as
she took one from the paper drawer. "'First get a newspaper.'"
"And very sensible, too," smiled her aunt. "It saves so much work if
everything can be carried away and the table left clean at once. You may
go to the closet and bring the box of things for the lamps while I bring
the large one from the sitting-room."
The box proved to have in it two cloths, one of flannel, and a white one
free from lint; a pair of scissors; a round brush with a wire handle,
and a piece of soap.
The lamp was taken to pieces, filled with kerosene from the can kept in
the cellar-way, and wiped off nicely. The charred wick was rubbed and
trimmed, and the corners rounded a little to keep them from throwing
the flame against the sides of the chimney and breaking it. The glass
chimney was put in a basin of warm water with soap-suds, and washed with
the flannel cloth, rubbed with the round brush, and wiped dry with the
white cloth. Whenever a new wick was put in a lamp, Margaret was told,
the burner should be boiled with washing-soda to free it from clogging
oil, and if a wick ever smelled it was to be cooked a few minutes in
vinegar and dried, and it would then be all right again. When the lamp
was put back they gathered up the things used, and put the newspaper
with the kindling for the kitchen fire.
"Now for the pleasant thing," Margaret said, as she carried away the
oil-can and washed her hands. "I don't think doing lamps is very nice
work."
"No, it is not," her aunt replied; "but it is certainly very nice to
have a clear, strong light to read by at night, and you cannot have that
unless the lamp is perfectly clean, so the work is worth doing. Look
now on the closet shelf once more and find another box with the silver
polish, while I go for the basket from the sideboard."
Once more a newspaper was spread on the table, and they set out the box
of powder, a small flannel cloth, a little saucer of water, a soft
brush, and a chamois. They dipped the flannel into the water, then into
the powder, and rubbed the pieces of silver well, scrubbing them with
the brush, except where they were perfectly smooth, as in the bowls of
the spoons. When it was done they washed it in hot water, wiped it dry,
and polished it well with the chamois, and it shone like new.
As they put it away again they counted it carefully, using the list
which was kept in the bottom of the basket; every piece was there,
fortunately, so no time was lost in hunting for it.
"Do you count the silver every time it is cleaned?" Margaret inquired,
as she took up the basket to put it away.
"Every single time," said her aunt, firmly. "It must always be done.
One can find a missing spoon when it first disappears, but not after it
has been gone a month or more."
"We are all done," Margaret said, cheerfully, as they put the kitchen to
rights. "Won't Bridget be pleased when she sees her clean refrigerator
and pantry, and the nice shiny silver,--and the garbage pail too! That
looks just as nice as can be!"
"Of course it does," said her aunt. "Everything looks nice when it is
clean."