It was Margaret’s grandmother who gave her the lesson on dish-washing. She said it was the part of housekeeping she really liked the best of all and did most easily, so everybody said, “Oh, well, if you really like it, perhaps you had better be the one to show Margaret how to do it properly!” and then they all laughed.

The gingham apron with sleeves was the one Margaret put on after breakfast. It buttoned around her wrists snugly, but on unfastening the buttons the sleeves could be rolled up and pinned out of the way, so they would keep clean. After she was ready the grandmother showed her how to stand all the dining-room chairs back against the wall and take up the crumbs under the table, pushing this to one side and then the other, so that the rug would really be clean when they were done.

“Now,” she said, “run into the kitchen and see that the table there is quite empty, so there will be plenty of room for the dishes we are going to bring out; bring back with you the large tray, and get out the scraping-knife.”

Margaret found that Bridget had left some pans and dishes on the table after she had cooked the breakfast, and these she piled neatly at one end, out of the way. The scraping-knife was a long one with a thin blade which bent easily; a palette knife, such as artists use in cleaning their paints up, her grandmother explained.

“It seems funny to use an artist’s knife to scrape dishes with,” said Margaret, when she came back. “I should think we would just scrape the plates with the silver knives on them. That’s the way Bridget does.”

“But it is bad for the knives,” her grandmother said. “Besides, a stiff knife cannot get the grease off, and this thin one can. You will see presently how beautifully it works. Now we must carry out the food.”

The dishes of meat, potatoes, bread, and other things were taken to the kitchen table and emptied; the bread was put back into its box; the bits of meat and vegetable were put on small dishes and put in the refrigerator; the butter on the small plates was scraped together into a little bowl and set aside to cook with. Then they were ready to get the dishes together on the dining-room table. They carefully emptied the tumblers and coffee-cups into the tray-bowl, so they would not be spilled in carrying them out. They piled the silver carefully on a dish, and carried out the plates and other things on the table. When it was quite cleared, Margaret took up the crumbs and laid the cloth and pad in the sideboard drawer. A centrepiece was put on the bare table with the fern-dish on it, and the two armchairs were pushed back in their places, one at each end. “There,” said the grandmother, “when you have dusted the room will be right to leave until luncheon. Once or twice a week, of course, it has to be thoroughly swept and put to rights, but this is the way we do every day.”

In the kitchen they scraped the plates very carefully, putting all the scraps into a bowl to empty into the garbage pail. They piled them nicely, putting all the same kind of plates into one pile, not mixing two sizes or sorts. The cups were put together, and the saucers piled also. The tray was set ready on one end of the table, and Margaret got out her new, clean dish-towels, soft ones for glass and silver, and firmer ones for the rest of the things. Then she put out the two dish-pans, and turned on the water. It ran very hot from the first, so it was all right, but Margaret was told she must always try it before she sat down to a meal, and if it was only warm she must put on a kettleful to heat, so it would be ready when needed, because it was impossible to wash dishes well in any sort of water but the very hottest.

They only filled one dish-pan to begin with, and after it was half-full Margaret put in the soap-shaker and stirred it around till the water was foamy. She hung it up again, and began to put in the tumblers.

“You must be careful that those are not icy,” her grandmother cautioned. “Even after they have been emptied they must stand till they are fairly warm, or they will crack as soon as they touch the hot water. But you must be most careful of all about cut glass; that really needs a special lesson. If you have a piece there, set it to one side, and when the rest of the glass is done and the silver, we will take that.” There was a fruit-dish which had been used for breakfast, so it was put on a corner of the table where it could not be knocked off, to wait its turn.

The tumblers and finger-bowls were put into the hot soapy water at once and turned about in it till they were clean. Then they were wiped while they were still a little soapy, without rinsing them, because in that way they were polished like diamonds. After they were lifted out and put on the tray the silver went into the pan and was well scrubbed with the mop, and then rinsed with very hot water, which proved to be too much for Margaret’s hands; when she tried to lift out the forks and spoons she could hardly touch them.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed. “It burns me. I must put in some cold water.”

“No, indeed!” said her grandmother, “that would spoil everything. Just slip a large spoon under all the silver, and lift it out at once. There is a saying that no water is hot enough to wash silver in unless it is too hot to put your hands in. Just see how fast the heat in it dries it as it lies on the tray! And see how it polishes, too, as I wipe it! If it were cold it might be greasy, and certainly it would not look half as well when it was done. Now before we take the china I will tell you about washing cut glass. You can put some fresh water in the dish-pan, but make it only as warm as your hand.”

While she was getting it ready the grandmother got a soft brush and a cake of nice white soap, and, after trying the water to see that it was not too warm or too cold, she mixed the soap in thoroughly. The beautiful glass bowl was lifted carefully into the pan and scrubbed with the little brush till every crack was cleaned and it was brilliant with the suds. Margaret was not allowed to lift it out on the tray for fear she should let it slip, but she watched how her grandmother handled it.

“If I had done as some careless maids do,” her grandmother began, as she wiped, “I might have put this bowl right into the very hot water the tumblers can bear, and cracked it at once. Cut glass cannot bear either hot or cold water. I once had a beautiful bowl broken in two because it was held directly under the faucet in the sink while the hot water ran into it, and another dish was broken by having a piece of ice put in it on the table. Iced lemonade often breaks lovely and costly pitchers. You must always wash each piece by itself in lukewarm water, and never put it in the pan with other things. Make a suds with good white soap, scrub the cracks well with a soft brush which will not scratch, and wipe dry without rinsing, and you will have beautiful, brilliant glass, and your care will make it last a lifetime. I will set this away in the dining-room while you draw some hotter water with soap in it for the china. Put in the cleanest things first, and only a few at a time, so they will not be chipped.”

“Why do I take the cleanest china first?” Margaret inquired, as she put in the fruit-plates. “Why don’t I take them as they happen to come on the table!”

“Some plates are greasy and some are not, and the greasy ones would spoil your dish-water,” her grandmother explained. “Now rinse those, and while I wipe them, wash the rest and then change your water.”

When Margaret lifted out the plates, she turned them up edgewise and let the water run back into the rinsing-pan, so that they were already half-dry when she laid them on the tray. But her grandmother got a fresh towel for them, because the first one had become damp, and the dishes would not dry easily with it.

Margaret decided that the easiest way to empty the dish-pan before putting in more hot water would be to tip it up, so she took it by the handles and turned the water directly into the sink. Her grandmother stopped her.

“Use the sink-basket,” she said. “See, the wire one in the corner. Pour the water through that, and then if any bits of food are in it they will stop there and not get into the drain; it’s a great convenience, and one we never had when I was a little girl. So with the dish-mop; that goes into hot water where the hands do not like to go, and into cups and dishes where it would be much more trouble to take a cloth, as we used to do. Nowadays we do not use dish-cloths very often, because doctors tell us that they are not as cleanly as they might be, and may bring us typhoid fever and other things. A mop can be scalded in very hot water after it has been well washed in soap suds, and then shaken out perfectly clean to dry quickly, so that it is better to use. On the iron and tin things we use a wire dish-washer, which is also very clean, indeed, and these make us feel safe.”

When the glass, silver, and china was done, Margaret took them on her tray and carried them into the dining-room and put them all away. When she came back, she looked at the pile of pots and pans on the table, and groaned. “Now,” she said, “comes the worst of all!”

“These are no trouble,” laughed her grandmother, “though there are a great many more of them than there ought to be. If Bridget only washed, wiped, and put away every dish as soon as she had finished using it, there might not be one to wash now. As it is, scald out the dish-mop, and put it away, and get the wire dish-washer, and a little household ammonia and sapolio, and some more very hot water in the dish-pan, and we will do these in a minute.”

Then she showed Margaret how to wash out her rinsing-pan well, and wipe it dry before hanging it on its nail. The other pan was half-filled with very hot water, and a teaspoonful of ammonia put in. “The cleanest dishes first,” Margaret was told, so in went the baking-tins, after they were well scraped, and the wire-washer soon scrubbed them clean, and grandmother dried them with a strong towel, and put them on a corner of the stove for a moment to get rid of any dampness before they were put away. The scorched marks on the white enamelled saucepans had to be rubbed well with sapolio, and a nice dish-cloth was found hanging up over the sink for the purpose. The coffee-pot had a special bath all alone, and was scrubbed out carefully inside as well as out, and every single ground was picked out of the spout and corners, and it was wiped and dried very carefully, because otherwise it would never make good coffee.

The frying-pan had to have a little ammonia to cut the grease, and as the outside seemed to be rough, as though it needed attention, too, this was well scrubbed with the wire washer till it was just as nice as the inside. After it was wiped, it, too, was dried off on the stove, lest any dampness might rust it.

This finished the dishes, and Margaret washed out the dish-pan and scalded it, and then wiped and hung it up, as she had the rinsing-pan. The sink was swept up with a little wire broom, and the bits gathered on a small iron shovel. These they put first into the wire sink-basket, and then turned out into the bowl of garbage; they scalded the shovel and broom, and the basket turned upside down in the sink till they were all clean. A bit of washing-soda was laid over the drain-pipe, and a quantity of very hot water was poured into the sink to flush it. The soda melted away, and as it went down the pipe it took all the grease with it which the water had left on the sides and in the corners of the pipe.

A special cloth was always kept hanging up over the sink for the tables. This Margaret wrung out, and used in wiping off all the dish-water which lay there; she also wiped up the wood of the sink. Then the kitchen broom was brought out and the floor nicely swept, especially under the tables and in the corners. The damp dish-towels were scalded and hung out in the sunshine; the chairs were set straight, the window-sills wiped off and some flat-irons put away which had been left on the stove.

“There,” said the grandmother, as they stood looking at the tidy kitchen, “that’s all there is to do, and I call it pleasant work. I like to make things clean and sweet, and I never could see why so many women hate to wash dishes.”

“Why, grandmother,” said Margaret, “I think it’s just fun!”