Читать книгу: «A Little Housekeeping Book for a Little Girl; Or, Margaret's Saturday Mornings», страница 6

CHAPTER X
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."

CHAPTER XI
MARKETING AND KEEPING ACCOUNTS

"I think it must be my turn to give you your lesson to-day," said Margaret's Pretty Aunt at breakfast-time, "because I have thought of something none of your other teachers have as much as mentioned. You can get ready as soon as possible."

"Which apron?" asked the little girl, curiously.

"No apron at all," said her aunt; "your hat and coat. We are going a-marketing. How can anybody be a good housekeeper without knowing how to buy a dinner?"

Before they set out they went to the kitchen with a small pad and pencil, and looked into the refrigerator to see what they had already, to know what they would need to buy. There proved to be several things which would be used for luncheon, and then they asked Bridget what she wanted them to get. She said she was out of flour and granulated sugar, and would want raisins and coffee and tea, beside a vegetable for dinner and some lettuce and meat. They planned the meals together, and decided on having a dessert of apple-tart, made with apples and cream, and these were added to the list Margaret wrote down so nothing would be forgotten; then they set out.

They stopped at the grocery first, and Margaret was told to order a seven-pound bag of sugar. While the clerk was getting it the aunt explained that this was a better way to buy it than to get it loose, as then it would be sent home in a paper bag, which might break and spill it; then, too, the nice cotton bag in which it would come home would be just the thing to strain jelly through. The flour was also ordered in a bag, this time a large one.

"Some things we buy in small quantities because there is danger of waste in the kitchen if there is an unlimited supply at hand. But flour is needed every day, and never wasted, so we buy a good deal of that at a time. If we had a very large family we would buy a whole barrel at once, and so save a little money; as it is, the big bag does very well for us. Now for coffee; tell the clerk to give you his very best Java and Mocha mixed, in a tin can. We will take it browned, but not ground."

"I thought Bridget always browned the coffee," said Margaret, who remembered the delicious smell which often had filled the house when the coffee came from the oven.

"So she did," her aunt explained, "until we found she would sometimes burn just a few grains each time, which made the whole taste burned. Now we buy it in a can, only a pound or two at a time, and of a man who has just had it browned for him. We keep the tin closely shut always so the odor cannot escape, and grind each morning only as much as we need, and have this heated very hot just before the water is added, and that gives it the same fresh odor you remember. It is the easiest way to manage, though, of course, freshly roasted coffee is the best of all. But remember always to get a good quality in buying, for poor coffee is not fit to drink. Order the tea, when the clerk is ready, and get that also in a package, because it is cleaner and fresher that way. You can pay anything you like for tea, from thirty cents a pound to about two dollars, but your mother gets a black tea without a bit of green mixed in it for from sixty to eighty cents, and buys it in half-pound packages. What is next on the list?"

"Raisins," said Margaret.

"Well, order those in a paper box, the kind which come already seeded, and when you get them home, take them out of the box and shut them up in a glass jar with a tight top, to keep them fresh. The vegetables come now, but before we buy those you must put down in this little book what we have bought already, with the price of each article opposite. I could wait till we got home, but I am afraid you may forget the cost of things, because you are not used to them."

She handed Margaret a cunning little book and a tiny pencil, and showed her how to find the right month and day printed at the top of the page, and to put down under a column headed "Groceries," just what they had bought so far and what each thing cost. After this they crossed the shop to the place where the vegetables and fruit were piled, and looked these over.

The apples were of all kinds, sweet and sour, big and little, red and green. Margaret said she would take the biggest red ones for the apple-tart.

"No, those are not cooking apples, they are meant for the table," her aunt told her. "And do not take the yellow ones, because they are sweet and only good for baking. Take a nice green apple, not too large, because the smaller ones do just as well and cost less. Let us get half a peck of those greenings. We want oranges for breakfast, too, though Bridget forgot to say so. Can you pick those out, do you think?"

There were a good many boxes of these, some with rough skins, some with smooth, some with little bunches at the end. These last, her aunt explained to the little girl, were seedless and rather too dry for breakfast, though very nice for dinner. "The rough-skinned ones are light, as you will see if you lift one, so they would have little juice. Choose a heavy one of medium size and a rather smooth skin; but do not get those which are a very light yellow, for they may be sour."

The vegetables had to be looked over carefully. Spinach proved withered, so they passed it by; the cauliflower had tiny black spots on it; the green string beans would not snap as they should when they were bent; but they found a large egg plant, with a fresh, smooth skin, which they took. The lettuce was all dark green, with thick strong leaves, and the aunt said it would never do; lettuce must be in heads, like cabbage, and pale green. Instead they chose some chicory with a white centre, which seemed crisp and newly gathered. All these things were written down in Margaret's account-book under "Fruits" and "Vegetables."

A nice dairy was not far from the grocery, and there they ordered a little bottle of cream and put this down in the book before they went on to the meat market. As they entered this shop her aunt said the lesson here was so long it would take years to learn it, and they would only take the a, b, c, of it in one day.

"Buying good meat means learning day after day," she explained. "However, there are some things you can learn this morning, and one is to be sure you buy in a clean place. Look around the floor and see whether the sawdust is fresh; notice the odor of the place and whether it is disagreeable or not; look at the counter, too, and be sure it is white and freshly wiped off; and above all, see whether the meat is kept in the ice-box at the back of the shop, not hung up on nails, or left lying carelessly about. Don't buy any meat which has been hanging or lying around; insist that it comes from the box."

"But I can't think of the kinds of meat there are if I don't see them," Margaret said, anxiously.

"You will learn," the aunt smiled. "I am sure you will never be willing to eat meat which you are not certain is clean. Then look well at what the butcher brings out to show you. Beef ought to be firm, clear red and white, and not streaked with little lines; mutton must not be too fat; veal not too young – you can tell when it is because then it will be very small. Bacon must not be too lean nor too salt, and cut as thin as a wafer. Fish must be fresh, with nice, clear eyes. Chickens too often are buried in a barrel of chopped ice for weeks, and come out blue and clammy; such are not fit to eat. Suppose we buy a pair of roasting chickens this morning, and then you will see how they ought to look."

The butcher brought out a pair which were yellow and dry, showing they had not been covered with ice. The aunt bent down the breastbone to see if they were tender, and showed the little girl that if it had been too stiff to bend she would have known by that that they would not do. She also looked inside to see if there was a good deal of fat, for this, too, was a sign of age. She said they had few pin-feathers, were firm and plump, and the feet were clean, so she was quite sure they would be good, and told the butcher to send them home, and not to forget the giblets.

"Chicken liver gravy!" Margaret exclaimed at this. "I like your lessons, auntie!"

After they reached home and their things were put away the account-book was brought out again, and a lesson given in that. Margaret had to listen carefully, for it seemed rather difficult at first.

"It is best to know always how much you are going to spend on your table every week," her aunt began. "At first you may spend too much or too little, but by looking over your book you can tell in a moment where the trouble lies, and the next week you can make it right. Some things cost a great deal, such as turkeys, or strawberries too early in the season, or certain fancy groceries, and by seeing just where your money has gone you can remember the next time not to get these. Look at the different columns in your book. One says Groceries, the next, Vegetables; then Fruits; Milk and Cream; Butter and Eggs; Meat; Fish; Wages; Incidentals. You can put down under these exactly what you spend each day, and when the month is over you can put down in another book what each has amounted to. Let me show you:

"Suppose when you add up your columns in your day-book you find at the end of the month you have spent twelve dollars for groceries, fifteen for meat, four for vegetables, three for fruit, and so on. You simply open your second book at the right month and put down what the whole has been; the next month you do the same thing under the new date, and so on. At the end of the year you do not have to go over all the little sums spent each day, but by looking in the right book under each month you can see exactly what all the meat cost and all the vegetables, and so on. If your October bill for meat was larger than it ought to have been and more than it was in September or November, you can look back and see just why, if you care to. Under Incidentals you put all your car-fares spent in shopping for the house, and such things as dust-cloths, or new kitchen tins. When the last of December comes you can see all you spent during the whole year by adding what each month came to, and know exactly how much it costs you to live, and you can plan to spend more or less next year, as you think best. That is not hard to understand, is it?"

"No," said Margaret, "not to understand, but you see I am afraid I will forget to put things down, and then I will not know after all what I spent."

"But you must put them down at once," her aunt said. "Either taking a pencil with you to market, or writing them down as soon as you come home. You will soon learn, and you will like the plan more and more. It is so nice to know exactly where the money went, day by day."

"Sometimes the grocer has a little book to put things down, too," said the little girl. "If he has a book why do I have to have one?"

"Because he may make a mistake, for one thing," her aunt replied, "and because if you have him put things down and do not do it too, you spend more than you think, and grow extravagant. You can pay each day, if you prefer, or once a week, or once a month; some people like one way, and some another about this, but you should always keep your own accounts, anyway, and know what you have had and how much, and what it cost; and at the end of each month you must copy off the result of adding your columns, and see what the expenses of the month have come to, and so at the end of the year. That's the way a good housekeeper does!"

"Well," said Margaret, "then I will do that way, too, even if it is some trouble."

"That's right," said her aunt. "If you do, I'll give you the loveliest set of account-books and the prettiest silver pencil I can buy when Christmas comes."

"Oh, I truly, truly will!" Margaret exclaimed. "I'll put down every single penny."