A Little Housekeeping Book for a Little Girl Part 4

The piano keys proved to be very sticky, and in some spots there were dark marks, as though a little girl had practised with unwashed fingers,--though, of course, no little girl would really do such a thing, the mother said. So Margaret got a little bottle of alcohol and a flannel cloth and sponged off each key. If she had used water on the ivory it would have made it yellow, but the alcohol did not injure it at all.

The chairs were brought in after this, and the other things they had carried out, and all arranged again. Some of the bric-a-brac was not clean in spite of its dusting, and this had to be carefully washed in warm water and wiped dry before it was put in place. "Anything but soiled ornaments," her mother told the little girl. The curtains and portieres were taken out of their bags and smoothed, and the bags and sheets folded and put away till the next sweeping day. The parlors looked beautifully fresh and orderly, but something seemed missing.

"Why, the palm!" Margaret said at length. "Bridget took it out this morning for its bath and did not bring it back."

They found there had been no time for the bath yet, so Margaret and her mother said they would attend to it. They wet the earth well, and while the water drained off into a large pan they washed the leaves, using a soft cloth dipped in a basin which held a cup of water and a cup of milk.

"I did not know plants liked milk," said Margaret, as she helped sponge the large leaves all over, the back as well as the front sides.

"Palms love it," her mother replied, "and it pays to use it on them, for it keeps them green and glossy; you will see how pretty this looks when we have finished it."

Sure enough, when they were done the palm looked as though the leaves had just opened, and they agreed that it should have a drink of milk and water every week. Then they put it back in its pot in the window of the parlor, and the room was all done.

The last thing of all was the lesson the mother repeated for Margaret to remember for all kinds of sweeping and dusting. It was like this:

"First get rid of all the ornaments and furniture in a room; in a bedroom you can put the things from the bureau and mantel on the bed, provided you dust them all well first. The chairs can go into the hall, and over the bureau, table, sofa, and bed, you must put sheets and towels, or even newspapers; never sweep till everything is well covered, or you will have to do double work when you come to dust. Pin up the curtains, and put bran on the carpet, and get somebody to help you push the heavy furniture about so you can sweep under it; there are some people who do not move these things for months, because it is too much trouble, but nice housekeepers always move them every single time they sweep. Use the whisk-broom in all the corners; wipe off the baseboards; dust the pictures thoroughly, and shake out the curtains, and when the room is rearranged, dust all the little things and your rooms will always look as though they had been housecleaned."

"My windows really and truly need was.h.i.+ng," said Margaret. "When I sweep my room next week I shall wash them all myself."

"Then you had better learn how now," her mother said. "That will be a good ending for the lesson. To wash windows you need a basin of warm water, a little ammonia, and two clean cloths. Wring out your first cloth in the ammonia-water until it is nearly dry, and rub the gla.s.s over and over from one side to the other, and around and around. Wipe dry each pane as you finish it, so it will not be streaked, and when all are done, polish them off with a handful of tissue-paper or a chamois.

When you wash plate gla.s.s, such as we have in the parlors, do not use ammonia, but instead put a few drops of blueing in the water, and when they are wiped dry go over the gla.s.s again with a cloth wrung out in alcohol. Do mirrors in this way if they are very dim; if they are new but dusty, do not use any water, only the alcohol, and polish them with the chamois. Would you like to try one window or one mirror still, this morning?"

Margaret said she thought she would rather wait a week, and as it proved to be luncheon time she hurried to put all the things away which they had been using, and get herself ready.

CHAPTER VII

THE BATHROOM; BRa.s.sES, GRATES, OILCLOTHS, AND VESTIBULE

When the Sat.u.r.day morning came on which Margaret was to learn how to take care of the bathroom, and clean grates, and do other such things, she groaned out loud. So far her lessons had been delightful, but this one sounded as though it would be work instead of fun. However, she put on her long-sleeved ap.r.o.n and out of the little bathroom cupboard she took the flannel cloth, the cotton cloth, the sapolio, the metal polish, a queer little brush of twigs with a long handle and a bottle of disinfectant, all of which stood ready there in a neat row. Then her Other Aunt came into the room, with a big ap.r.o.n on just like Margaret's, and began:

"The bathtub, luckily for us," she said, "is of white enamel, so it is easy to keep clean. But see, all around it there is a streak where the top of the water came after somebody's bath this morning. Now, of course, every single person who uses a bathtub ought to wipe it out afterward; but men don't take the trouble, and women sometimes forget; little girls never do, of course! So the tub has to be washed and wiped out every morning."

"Every single morning?" Margaret asked, grumblingly. "It seems as if that would be too often; it must wear the nice enamel off to wash it so much."

"Not at all," said her aunt; "it is good for it! Get the nice white cloth and a cake of soap,--not the sapolio, because that would scratch it,--and roll up your sleeves. Kneel down by the tub, put in the stopper, and draw a little warm water; wring out your cloth in it, rub it well on the soap, and scrub off the greasy mark first, and afterward wash the tub all over; rinse out your cloth, let out the water, and wash the tub again and wipe it dry. Sometimes, perhaps twice a week, put a little ammonia in the first water so that the tub will have an extra cleaning. If ever you have a really dirty tub to scrub, take gasoline on a flannel cloth and wash with that, and it will be like new; but tubs which are washed out every day never need gasoline.

"If you have a tub lined with zinc remember that needs even more care than a white one, if it is to be kept s.h.i.+ning bright. You can scrub it out with gasoline if it seems greasy, then with vinegar, if it is dark, then with metal polish, and so on; zinc tubs are really difficult to care for. A better way is to paint it all over with two coats of white paint and when it is dry enamel it. It costs only a dollar to do it, and it does save so much work; besides, a white tub always looks best of all. Now we will do the wash-stand."

They took off the soap-dish and tooth-brush mug and bottles of tooth powder, because, as the aunt explained, one must always wipe under things, not around them. The marble slab and bowl were scrubbed and dried, and the mugs and soap-dish washed, wiped, and replaced. After this they cleaned the closet by pulling the handle and letting the water run while they put in the long-handled brush of twigs and brushed out every inch of china, even down into the pipe as far as possible.

Margaret was told that when she used ammonia in the tub she must put some in the closet, too, and once or twice a week a little disinfectant must be poured down to keep the pipe perfectly clean. The woodwork was wiped off with a cloth kept for that purpose, and then they turned to the polis.h.i.+ng of the faucets and pipes.

This was hard, but as Margaret and her aunt both worked it made it easier. They put some polis.h.i.+ng paste on a flannel and rubbed and rubbed till they could see the metal s.h.i.+ning through the paste; then they wiped it off with a dry cloth. "If this was all rubbed a little every single day," said the aunt, "it would never be such hard work. I should say that this nickel had been just a little bit neglected lately, but see how bright we have made it! Now for the oilcloth on the floor."

They set the hamper and a chair out into the hall, and Margaret went to the kitchen for a basin of milk with a little warm water in it. Out of the cupboard she brought the j.a.panese seat she had learned she must always use when she got down on the floor, partly to save her dress, and partly because there was a painful disease called sometimes "housemaid's knee," which one could get by kneeling and working on a hard floor with nothing underneath one. When she was all ready her aunt wrung out the cloth for her in the milk, and told her to begin at one edge and work straight across the floor, wiping every part well, but especially under the tub and wash-stand, because those were likely to need it most. "The milk will freshen the oilcloth and make it s.h.i.+ne," she said. "Always try and have some when you wipe up an oilcloth, for water alone is not good for it."

When the floor was dry they set in the hamper again, folded the towels neatly, and hung them straight on the rack, and dusted around the window and the wood around the sides of the room. "We are done here," the aunt said, as they put away all the things they had been using, "but the lesson isn't over yet, for while we are in the scrubbing business you may as well learn how to take care of steps and vestibule. You may get the old broom from the kitchen Bridget keeps for this, and ask her to bring a pail of water; you will need the scrubbing-brush, too, and the sapolio, and two cloths; the j.a.panese seat, some more metal polish, a flannel, and a duster."

Margaret got them all, and brought them out to the vestibule. The door-mat was taken up, shaken well, and hung over the bal.u.s.trade outside, and, after sweeping out the vestibule, Margaret knelt on the seat and scrubbed the marble floor, especially in the corners, and then wiped them dry. The steps had already been swept once that morning, so all they needed was a good bath. A little water at a time was poured over them and swept off with the broom, and while they dried in the suns.h.i.+ne, she rubbed the door handles and bell with polish, and gave them a beautiful finish with chamois leather. The woodwork of the doors was pretty dusty, and before it could be made to look just right it had to be rubbed off with a damp duster and a little stick used in the cracks of the wood. When the rug was laid down once more Margaret and her Other Aunt stood and admired their work.

"A good housekeeper always has nice, clean steps and a well-cared-for vestibule," said the aunt. "They are like a sign-board on the front of a house, telling the sort of people who live inside. That thought ought to make you keep your vestibule in nice order."

"Yes, indeed," said Margaret. "I'd be ashamed to have a sign-board in front of my steps, saying, 'An untidy girl lives here!' Now what do we do?"

"Well, let us see if we can find any bra.s.s to polish. There are the andirons in the hall, for instance, and the shovel and tongs." So out came the metal polish once more, and, after putting down a newspaper, they rubbed them all well. They found out, however, that some of the bra.s.s about the house had an enamel finish over it to keep out the air, and all this needed was wiping off with a cloth instead of rubbing, which was a great saving of time; though this bra.s.s was not quite as nice looking as that which they rubbed till it shone like a mirror, in the old-fas.h.i.+oned way. It happened that the chandelier in the hall was covered with the enamel, and here her aunt told Margaret she did not dislike it, because it would have been nearly impossible to rub a chandelier clear up to the ceiling every week. They brought out the step-ladder and wiped it off with a dry duster, however, and then they washed the globes nicely in warm water, and dried them. Globes often got very dusty, the aunt said, and n.o.body remembered to wash them off instead of merely dusting them once in awhile, and then the family thought the gas must be very poor because the light was dim.

"Now, auntie, what next?" Margaret asked, when this work was done.

"The sitting-room fireplace," her aunt replied. "It is full of wood ashes."

Margaret went once more to the broom closet and got a shovel, a dust-pan, a whisk-broom, a damp cloth, and a newspaper.

There were andirons in the fireplace and the ashes lay all over and around them, so her aunt first helped her lift these heavy things out on the newspaper at one side. Then she told her to sweep most of the ashes into a small pile right in the centre of the hearth, at the back.

"But, auntie, they won't burn any more; why don't I take them right out!" asked Margaret.

"Because they make the fire burn better and last longer. You can take up part of them and put them in the scuttle, but leave some, and especially all the bits of charred wood; it would be wasteful to take those away."

Margaret carefully swept up the greater part of the ashes, working from the edges of the hearth toward the middle, and put them into the scuttle. Once she spilled a shovelful, but as a newspaper was spread on the carpet it did not matter. Her aunt told her to be sure and always have plenty of papers ready to use in housework, because in the end they saved so much work. "Suppose you had to sweep up those ashes," she said, "and clean the carpet, too, would not that be a bother! Now if the hearth is clean, wipe it with the damp cloth, and dust off the andirons well. If there had been a grate here you would have had to polish it with the blacking from the kitchen stove. When you have finished you can get more paper and kindling and lay a fire."

They put crumpled paper between the andirons, covering all the ashes which lay there so they did not show. On this they laid kindling, crossed, and then some pieces of wood. When they gathered up the newspaper there was nothing to brush from the carpet, and everything was neat.

"There," said her aunt, "that's all for to-day. Run and wash your face and hands,--they need it!"

CHAPTER VIII

HOUSECLEANING; CELLAR AND ATTIC

Margaret's Sat.u.r.day morning lessons were interrupted at this point by the spring housecleaning. Everybody was so busy taking up and putting down carpets, hanging curtains and pictures over, putting away winter clothes and getting out summer ones, that the lessons seemed forgotten.

The grandmother, however, remembered, and one day she took the little girl around the house while the cleaning was going on, showing her how the work was done. They found the guest-room had been finished, so they sat down there and talked.

"Housecleaning is very different nowadays from what it used to be," she began. "We used to take up all the carpets at once, and keep everything upset for a week or two, and then get all to rights. Now we take a room at a time, and so do the whole house gradually and comfortably. Perhaps the work is divided, and part done in the spring and part in the fall, to make it still easier. Then we do not take up every carpet every year, as we did. This guest-room carpet, for one, does not need beating and cleaning and putting down again, because the room is not used all the time, and once or twice a year it has a scrubbing with warm water or turpentine or ammonia after it is swept."

"Yes," said Margaret, "I learned about that in my sweeping lesson."

"When this room was cleaned," her grandmother went on, "the curtains were taken down, and the pictures wiped off and put into the storeroom.

The furniture was well dusted and put away also, and the bed all taken apart, the mattress beaten gently, the springs dusted and wiped off; the bed slats were washed in hot soap and water, and put away, too. Then the bed itself was taken to pieces and washed in warm soap-suds, because being white iron they could not hurt it. If it had been a wooden bed it would have been wiped with a damp cloth. And then, Margaret, what do you think? a brush dipped in turpentine was put in all the corners of the bed and the springs, so that if by any chance a little bug should have crept in there to hide, it would be driven out."

Margaret looked disgusted. "We don't have bugs in our beds," she said, indignantly. "Nice, clean people never do."

Her grandmother smiled. "Even a very nice, clean person may bring home a bug from a crowded street-car," she said. "And if it happens to be on a coat which is thrown on a bed, it may crawl quickly into a corner without anybody's seeing it, and presently the bed will have half a dozen bugs in it. Of course a good housekeeper would never let them stay in a bed a single minute after she finds out they are there, and she always hunts occasionally, at least as often as every few months, so that she may be perfectly sure everything is all right. If ever you think you are perfectly safe, my dear, and do not look to make sure, you will be the very one to be surprised some day! You must often put the mattress on a sheet on the floor, and look all along the edge and in the corners and under the ties. The spring must be painted with turpentine, especially in the hidden places, and so must the corners of the bed. It is a good plan to use only metal beds with iron spring frames, for bugs like wood much better; they seldom stay where there is none. If you ever find a bug, or the tiny black speck it makes, get the white of an egg and beat it with a teaspoonful of quicksilver, and paint everything with it, and you will have no more trouble.