"Now that you know all about your working-tools in the kitchen and
pantry, I think it is time you should begin to take them in hand," said
Mrs. Thorne, the next morning. "Don't you remember how Squeers used to
teach his boys first to spell 'bot-tin-ney,' and then go and weed the
garden to prove that the lesson had been learned? That's my principle,
exactly. So now as to to-day's work; I have been thinking it over and I
believe we must study the routine of the meals theoretically and go on
to illustrate by getting them practically. But where to begin--that is
the trouble; I'm such a novice in teaching that I am bewildered what to
take up first."
"Bread-making, I suppose," said Dolly, with regret.
"Oh, no, indeed, not for a long time yet. First, the theory, you know."
"Well, while you are thinking about it I will just occupy the time with
asking some questions. One of them is this: do you always look as neat
and trim when you do your work, or is this costume a sort of stage-dress
for my benefit?"
"My dear, I can proudly say I always look just as I do now, and I'll
tell you why. When I first had to do my own work, years ago, I put on a
short skirt and shirt-waist, with an apron over all; that, I supposed,
was just the proper thing. Then I rolled up my sleeves, took off my
stock or collar, and hung it on a nail in the kitchen, and did my dishes
or cooked. When the door-bell rang I put on my collar and unrolled my
sleeves and took off my apron, and answered it. It was not long before I
discovered that my sleeves were perpetually mussed, and I had
temporarily lost my self-respect by dispensing with a collar. Then, too,
in spite of all I could do, the dish-water would sometimes splash over
and the lower part of my dress would get greasy. I spoiled two good
tailor-skirts that way. And worst of all, when Dick came home, all I
could do by way of dressing to meet him was to put on another fresh
shirt-waist and a clean apron, because I knew that after dinner I should
wash the dishes. The consequence was that I never wore my pretty frocks
at all, and my husband knew me only as a cook; sometimes a cook who sat
with him in the parlor, but a cook, nevertheless, and one who did not
change her dress after the dishes were done for the night, and so had
to run when callers came for the evening.
"After a few weeks of that sort of thing I made up my mind it would
never do. I must be a 'lady help,' even though there was no one to help
but Dick. So I changed my plans of work and got some especial gowns, and
I have kept to a sort of uniform like this ever since, to my infinite
satisfaction. If you look me over carefully you may discover the points
I had in mind when I planned it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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