Chapter 9

LAUNDRY WORK

Margaret's teachers held a meeting before her next lesson. They could not decide whether she should be taught to wash and iron or not.

Her Pretty Aunt said, "Certainly not! She will never need to know. Even on a desert island she will find some Woman Friday to do her laundry work!"

"But," suggested her Other Aunt, "suppose she had a very beautiful thin dress to be washed, and had a very poor laundress to do it who might spoil it; don't you think she would wish she knew how to do it herself?"

"Besides," said her mother, "however could she teach an ignorant servant to wash and iron if she did not know how?"

"Of course she must know," said her grandmother, sternly. "I will teach her myself."

So on Friday night Margaret made up a bundle of clothes as she was told; "samples," grandmother called them, because there were some of every sort of thing found in a regular washing; these they took down to the laundry.

"The first thing is to sort the clothes," the lesson began. "Put the white, starched things in one pile; the bed and table linen in another; the flannels by themselves; the stockings by themselves; the handkerchiefs and colored things in two more piles.

"Many people do not soak clothes over night, and it is not necessary to do so, but I am going to teach you to do it because it is the easiest way. If you are ready, look over the white things first for spots. Coffee, tea, and fruit stains must have boiling water poured through them till they disappear. Rust must be rubbed with lemon juice and salt and laid on a new, shiny tin in the sunshine till the spot disappears; some people use acid, but this is apt to eat the cloth. Blood stains must be soaked in cold water; get the handkerchief you had on your cut finger and put it in this pail. Now wet the white things only, rub on a little soap, and get out every spot; put them in nice rolls, the soapy side turned in, and lay them all in the warm water in these two tubs, clothing in one, and table and bed linen in the other--never put the two together. Do not soak the flannels or they will shrink; nor the colored things, or they will fade; nor the stockings.

"The handkerchiefs, well soaped and rubbed and squeezed, go into a pail of water all alone with a tablespoonful of kerosene to kill any germs of cold in the head which may be in one of them, and would spread to all the handkerchiefs. The oil boils out and does not smell after they are ironed. That is all for to-night, but be up bright and early in the morning, for only lazy people hang out their washing at noon."

The next day Margaret came into the laundry with her biggest apron and her sleeves rolled up and pinned to her shoulders, ready for work.

"Flannels first," she was told. "Draw two tubs of warm water, one just exactly as warm as the other. Put in some nice white soap and make a good suds, and then take it out and put in the flannels; rub and squeeze them with your hands till they are clean, but never rub them on the wash-board, or put any soap directly on them or they will grow hard and stiff; as soon as they are clean, wring them out and rinse them in the second water. The reason why they must be washed and rinsed in the same sort of water is that if they were dropped from cold to hot or hot to cold water they would shrink all up and be spoiled at once. A little ammonia or borax in the rinsing water makes them soft and white. You cannot take too much care in washing flannels, for they are expensive and easily spoiled; think how often your winter undervests are shrunken before they are half-worn, and how once Bridget spoiled a pair of beautiful new blankets she washed for the first time, all because the two waters were not just alike, and because she rubbed soap on them and made them hard and yellow. Now you may wring yours out with your hands and hang them out on the line."

When Margaret came in again her grandmother had put the white apron into the water the flannels had been rinsed in, for its first bath. She said it was still fresh and warm and soapy and ought not to be wasted. The first tubful, however, she had thrown away as useless any longer. She told Margaret to put a little more soap on the apron and gently rub it on the board, turning it over and over till it was clean; then she dropped it in the wash-boiler, which her grandmother had filled with fresh water and put on the fire. The linen was washed in the same way, rubbing and turning it till it was all fresh, and putting it in the boiler. The water was allowed to boil up well for a moment, the clothes pushed down and turned around with a stick as they rose to the top. They were lifted out with the stick into a tub of fresh, hot water, and rinsed till all the soap was out, and dropped in a tub of cold water which had a little blueing in it. Here they were rinsed once more, and wrung out dry and then put out in the sunshine.

Bridget had hung a low clothes-line for Margaret between two small trees, so she could easily reach it. The clothes-pins were in one of her aprons, in a pocket made by turning up the bottom almost half-way to the belt, so none could fall out. This apron was made of heavy ticking, and none of the water reached her dress as she carried out the wet things to the line.

When she came in this second time she found her grandmother ready to make starch. As there were only a very few things to stiffen she measured a heaping tablespoonful of dry starch, wet it with just as much cold water, and added a cup of boiling water, with a half-teaspoonful of sugar, to make it extra nice and glossy. The white apron was dipped in this and wrung out; then more water was added till the starch was like milk, and the pillow-cases and gingham apron were dipped in.

"I never starch table or bed linen," said her grandmother, "but you may, if you wish to, if you use very thin starch. I know a better way to make such things look nice, however, and when we iron I will teach it to you. Now we must finish the washing. Wash and rinse the stockings in hot water, but do not boil them; wash and rinse and boil the handkerchiefs by themselves. When these are all on the line, and you have made the laundry tidy, you can rest for an hour, while the irons get nice and hot, and then we will take the second half of the laundry lesson."

The sunshine had made everything dry and sweet when Margaret brought in the clothes from the line and heaped them on the laundry table. She spread the napkins and pillow-cases out smoothly, and from a nice white bowl of clean water she sprinkled them, one at a time, and smoothed out the creases as her grandmother showed her. "The fewer wrinkles, the easier ironing," she said. Each was made into a tidy roll and laid in the basket again. The handkerchiefs were sprinkled also, and made into one roll and laid by them. The flannels were still damp, and so just ready to iron as they were, and so were the stockings. As the irons were hot, Margaret now spread the ironing-pad of flannel over the table, and laid the ironing-sheet very smoothly over it. She put the iron-stand on one corner on a square, white tile, so the heat would not burn the cloth underneath and got out a thick, soft holder.

She also got out the ironing-board, because the flannel petticoats were easier to manage on this than on the table. She tried the iron by holding it to her cheek, and found it quite warm. Then she wet the tip of her finger, as she had seen Bridget do, and quickly touched it. It seemed just right, hot, but not burning, so she began on the stockings, and ironed them flat, on the right side, turning each one over and pressing both sides. She did not turn in the toes, because some of them needed to be darned, and whoever did it would have to turn each one back to see if there were any holes in it; but she made them into pairs, folding each once, and hung them on the little clothes-horse standing before the fire.

The flannel skirts she slipped over the skirt-board, and ironed them by beginning at the hem and working toward the belt, pulling each one around the board to bring the unironed part up. These, too, she hung near the fire, because flannels take so long to grow perfectly dry.

The table napkins were a real pleasure to do. Her grandmother taught her why they needed no starch--because if they were ironed over and over, with a good hot iron, first on one side and then on the other, they grew a little stiff, and became very glossy and beautiful, like satin, while if starch was used they easily got too stiff. These were folded very carefully indeed, so the edges exactly matched, and laid in a pile by themselves.

By the time these were done the iron was again cool and had to be changed for the second time for a hot one. Linen, the grandmother explained, needed hot irons, but one should always be very careful not to have them so hot that there is any danger of scorching, because linen is very expensive, and easily ruined.

The towels were ironed exactly as the napkins had been, on both sides, and again and again, till they were dry and shining. Then they were folded carefully, not in four narrow folds, but in three parts, so they would "look generous," grandmother said. The side edges had to match exactly, and the lower edge had to be a tiny bit longer than the rest, so that when hung on the towel-rack it would be perfect. This took time, but when once Margaret learned how they should look, she said it was no trouble.

The white apron also took some time to do because it had to be polished, and the gatherings and ruffles were bothersome, but still it was done presently, and also the gingham apron, which was easier. The handkerchiefs were only play, but they had to be carefully folded, so the edges would be even. At last everything was done, and there was a whole clothes-horse full of beautiful clothes. It looked like a blossoming tree, all white and fragrant, and Margaret felt very proud and happy as she ran to call the family to come and admire.

"I knew she could learn!" said her grandmother, nodding to her mother, as they all came in to look and praise the little laundress.