A Little Housekeeping Book for a Little Girl; Or, Margaret's Saturday Mornings

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 Saturday 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 apron 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 balustrades 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 glass 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 glass 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 glass 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 Saturday morning lesson. The window-curtains and portières 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.

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-à-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 portières 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 washing," 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 glass 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 glass, 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 glass 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; BRASSES, GRATES, OILCLOTHS, AND VESTIBULE

When the Saturday 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 apron 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 apron 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 shining 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 polishing of the faucets and pipes.

This was hard, but as Margaret and her aunt both worked it made it easier. They put some polishing paste on a flannel and rubbed and rubbed till they could see the metal shining 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 Japanese 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 shine," 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 Japanese 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 balustrade 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 sunshine, 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 brass 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 brass 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 brass was not quite as nice looking as that which they rubbed till it shone like a mirror, in the old-fashioned 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 nobody 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!"