TL;DR (although as the banner image for this blog points out, there was no such thing in The Olden Days): an 'American Sale' is a jumble sale in which the donated goods are sold directly to the poor of the local parish, the proceeds of which sale go towards continued work for the good of said poor.
To those whose lot it is to work among the poor in London or any large city, it becomes a very pressing problem – How, with strictly limited resources, are we to meet the constantly increasing demand for aid in cases of sickness or poverty? I am sure that all who do work of this kind – district visitors, Sunday-school teachers, and others, of whom there are many among the readers of THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER – have often wondered how they are to meet the demands made upon them. The visitor – the “visiting-lady” – as the poor call her – when she goes her rounds, finds that the cases of sickness or want caused by the bread-winner being out of work are, as a rule, far more than the slender monthly allowance for relief will enable her to help as she would like to do, and she feels that it is very hard to have to go on in the work without enough of money to supply the sick and needy. And then in every parish and district there are sure to be very deserving objects in want of funds. The “Mothers’ Meeting” may be in debt; the Sunday-school library may sorely need some new books; the Temperance Society may find it hard to make both ends meet; the day schools may want help of one kind or another. It does not always do to look to the same people over and over again for support, and it is always desirable to extend the circle of money-givers, and make all who possibly can help in good works.
An “American Sale” provides a most excellent method of raising money, and it has the advantage of drawing it from other than the ordinary sources of parochial revenue; and the poor have a direct interest in making it a success, as the larger the receipts are they directly or indirectly benefited.
Now some of my readers may naturally ask, “What is an American Sale?” Well, the answer, shortly, is this: - An American Sale is a sale of all kinds of clothing, household requisites, furniture, carpets, etc., etc., which are contributed by kind friends to be sold to the poor of a parish. I do not mean new articles, but the clearing out of wardrobes and houses of many things which their original owners would never either wear or use again, but which prove very acceptable to their poorer neighbours. Why this should be called an “American” sale I know not; perhaps the idea originated there; but the scheme is a most excellent one, as our experience will show. It has been tried, I believe, in several places with very great success, and it is with the idea of making its usefulness more widely known, that I venture to describe it in this article. Some people may object, and say that the poor are not likely to buy these kind of things, or that it is only in certain places that it may succeed. All I can say is, just try it, and if your district is anything like the one I have in my mind, where our experience is gained (a parish within ten miles of London), I do not think you will find it fail.
Let me now describe how we set to work, and what success attended our efforts. First and foremost, it is necessary to get someone to act as secretary, who must be exact and methodical in the work; it will not do to go about it in a slipshod way. We were most fortunate in securing the services of a gentleman who entered into it most zealously and systematically. A committee of ladies, nearly all district visitors, was then formed to collect articles for the sale. Then a circular was drawn up by our secretary, stating the things most likely to sell well, and this, as you will see, was a most exhaustive one. Here is the substance of it. It began by stating that an American sale would be held on such a date, and in such a place, and requested contributions from friends of any of the following articles:
“Upper and under clothing for men, women and children, especially cloth clothes and flannel garments, socks, stockings, collars, scarves, handkerchiefs, gloves, neckties, boots and shoes (especially women’s and children’s slippers), hats, caps, bonnets, bed-linen, table-linen, umbrellas and parasols, pieces of floor-cloth and linoleum, and carpet in strips (if not too large to be sent in a parcel), mats, rugs, curtains and fittings, articles of furniture if in fair repair (but not large ones if sent from a distance), perambulators, bedding, and blankets; toys of all kinds, children’s picture books, Christmas, birthday and other cards (if not written on), pictures in frames or mounted on cardboard; razors, scissors, smoking pipes, purses, etc., etc.; crockery, china, glass (but not jam pots or ordinary bottles), old dinner, breakfast, and tea services, or parts thereof (but crockery and brittle goods should not be sent from a distance), hardware, kitchen utensils, brushes etc., kettles and scuttles, but these should all be in good repair (leaky saucepans are of no use); knives, forks, spoons, etc. N.B. – Iron or other heavy goods and very bulky things should not be sent from a distance. Small contributions of money will be gladly received from those members of _____ Parish and congregation who are unable to help in other ways.”
Such was the circular we sent out, and I think the reader will admit that it was of a fairly exhaustive character, and that there are few households which could not furnish some articles, useful or ornamental, to place upon the stalls.
In most places it would not be difficult to get together enough articles to attempt a sale, at least on a small scale.
When we had sent out our circular a reasonable time was allowed to elapse, and then the exact date was fixed. The next question which arose was with regard to the tickets of admission. We found that the poor in all the districts were very ready and willing to secure them. At our first sale we had two classes of tickets; those at twopence admitted the holders in the sales half an hour before the holders of tickets at a penny each; but we found after the first experiment that this did not answer, and we have since then only issued tickets at twopence each, and opened the door to all at the same hour. These tickets were bought up most eagerly by the people; the only restriction to the district visitors (through whom the tickets were sold) was that they should not sell them to any persons who had shops for the sale of “old clothes”.
A few days before the sale the things begin to come in, and they are received by various kind friends in the parish, who take care of them until the day of the sale.
When that important occasion arrives, the heterogenous collection of goods, consisting of all kinds of clothing, carpets, books, pictures, crockery, ironmongery, lamps, etc., which had been sent to the various centres, was collected and brought to the parochial schools, where the sale was held. This was done early in the day, and then the various stallholders came and commenced the work of pricing those things which were allotted to them. To this they were guided on the first occasion by an experienced hand in these matters, but the sellers quickly learned what the things were worth. As a rule to each stall we appointed two or three ladies and one or two gentlemen, whose duty it was to protect the sellers when the rush came. We generally divide our goods among the following stalls:-
1. Men’s clothing
2. Women’s clothing
3. Hats, bonnets and umbrellas (at this stall remember to have a looking-glass)
4. Fancy articles (this includes pictures, books, ornaments, toys, etc.)
5. Carpets and curtains
6. Crockery and china of all kinds
7. Ironmongery
8. Underclothing for women and children, and men’s collars and ties, etc.
9. Boots and shoes of all kinds
And last, not least, a refreshment stall where for a penny a cup of tea and biscuits or cake could be procured. This stall was very fairly patronised when our numerous clients had exhausted themselves and their purses, and met together to discuss their bargains.
These various stalls were ranged round the walls of the school rooms, and in front of them a stout barrier of timber and rope was fixed to prevent the crowd getting in the way of the sellers. It was found desirable to secure the services of two stalwart policemen, to prevent a rush at the first opening of the doors, and to watch over the proceedings generally.
Our hours were from 5 to 8 p.m., and, as we always hold the sales upon a Saturday, it seems to answer very well, it has never, however, been of so long continuance, as we are generally pretty well cleared out in a little over an hour. When the moment of opening draws near, every stallholder has to be at the post assigned to him or her. The moment the doors are opened the crowd, which has assembled outside some half hour previously, comes in with a rush. Like eagles upon their prey they swoop down upon the stalls, and the sellers have at first a very warm time of it.
The stalls which are at once most fiercely attacked are men’s clothing, women’s clothing, and the carpets. The last named is generally cleared out in about half an hour, which leads us to suppose that we, as a rule, price these things too low. Around a fairly good bit of carpet the battle of the purchasers rages very fiercely, and those whose duty it is to protect the fair saleswomen have no easy task of it. The rush on the men’s clothing stall is also very great, and in a marvellously short time it follows the example of the carpet and curtain stall, and the sellers are free to help others. It is quite a novel experience for those who are accustomed to ordinary bazaars, where every effort has to be made by the stallholders to attract oftentimes unwilling purchasers, to find themselves surrounded by a crowd who are only too anxious to buy, and whom it is necessary to repress in order that those who are not first in the field may have a chance of getting something.
The stall for hats, bonnets and umbrellas often affords no small amusement, and the looking-glass has a busy time of it, as all who try on the hats or bonnets must have a look to see how they suit the would be purchaser’s style of beauty. Among the men’s hats we found that silk hats were always a drug in the market; the British workman does not seem to care for such things, and often very good hats would not be taken on any terms. Felt or soft-cloth hats went very fast, but it is a curious thing that it was very difficult to find one to fit the working-classes. In almost every case the hats sent in by gentlemen were much too large. Whether this is due to a superior education and more reading, or not, it is hard to say, but in dozens of instances we found this was the case.
The boot and shoe stall is one which is much patronised; the articles there are often of a very miscellaneous kind, including wading stockings (sent in by some enthusiastic salmon fisher), dress boots, pumps, slippers, shooting boots, etc. Here there is apt to be a considerable congestion of purchasers, as it takes time to try on the boots, and it is necessary to have some space round the stall and some chairs or forms near at hand.
The ironmongery does not, as a rule, find so many customers, nor do we generally get in so many articles for this department, the reason being, I suppose, that while the things are fit for use, the owners do not part with them, and after that, it is not easy to find purchasers for a saucepan which, although it may be very clean and bright looking, yet refuses to hold what is put into it; and the same remark applies to kettles, coffee pots, tea urns, etc.
The refreshment stall generally gets a good many supporters when the people have spent what they have on clothing, for then they repair with their very miscellaneous bundles to refresh themselves with the harmless cup of tea, and to discuss their purchases before carrying them off in triumph.
It takes usually about two hours to clear out our stock, and at the very end of that time empty stalls and weary stallholders are to be found. We made a rule that no small children (except those in arms) should be admitted, but somehow this rule gets broken, and in the rush in at 5 p.m. we find that the wary mothers often manage to bring in a small boy or girl with them, and the sad boy or girl as often gets temporarily lost in the crowd, but quickly is brought back to the mother by either the kindly policeman or one of the staff of helpers.
So much, then for our sale, and its various incidents. Now it may be asked what profit is likely to be made by such efforts? That depends, of course, very much on the resources of the place, and the number of kind friends who will help in the matter of sending in articles for sale. There need be no fear of not getting buyers if the thing is properly made known in the parish. Ours is probably a very typical parishof which there are hundreds about London and any other big town, and we find the people most eager to purchase tickets to admit them, and ready, only too ready, to buy when they get there. There aer in every household heaps of things which the owners do not need, and which must be got rid of some way, and as a rule we have not found any difficulty, if the work is begun in time, and sufficient notice of the sale given (say three months or thereabouts) in getting articles sent in. The expenses need not be very heavy. Printing is the chief item, and the necessary help in getting the room ready on the day of the sale, and hte hire of, say, cups, etc., if the parish has not got a supply, as most parishes have. The expense of police and a mean to take tickets at the door complete the list, except where the carriage of articles has to be paid, but this will not always happen.
We have had three American sales, and we find that the net profit of these, after the payment of all expenses, comes to 118 pounds. This sum was taken from the people themselves, in a parish of under 8,000 in ten months!
Almost all of this money went back again to the people in the shape of extra relief, to the district visitors to meet cases of sickness, and to deserving people in misfortune. Some of it was given to mothers’ meetings, some to school repairs, and all, as I have said, to the direct benefit of the working people. It would not be wise to attempt these sales more than twice a year; there were exceptional reasons for our having had three in one year.
I hope what I have said in this paper, in calling attention to this means of raising money to help the poor, may be useful to some interested in that work, and that they (if they attempt an “American Sale”) will meet with the same success as we have done. 6
Showing posts with label furniture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label furniture. Show all posts
Tuesday, 11 March 2014
Thursday, 30 January 2014
2 June 1900 - 'The Law of Order and How Beryl Came to Observe It' - Chapter 3 - Duties of a Hostess, Chaperonage
This is the first of the 'Law of Order' articles I've transcribed since moving to Blogger. The previous two chapters can be found in the index for Housekeeping, Domestic Life and Etiquette, but as they're from the Tumblr I'll link them here and here also. If you've just joined us, 'The Law of Order and How Beryl Came to Observe It' are a series of etiquette articles framed, often awkwardly, as a serial story in which young wife and mother Clara schools young Beryl in how a nice young lady should behave. Today Beryl learns about how to treat house guests, and about how society's moved on and women be walking about unchaperoned now, but the more demure your mien and unobservable your dress, the lesser the chance you will be subjected to street harassment from strange men.
“This room will do very nicely, I think, said Beryl. “If there is anything necessary, Clare, you must be sure to tell me. Father says I must get anything that is wanted. This Lizzie Delverton is really a second cousin of father’s and not a bit old. She lives at Brighton with her husband and children, and father saw her there last month and liked her so much that he told me to invite her here. I cannot think why he could not have asked her himself.”
“Because an invitation always should come from the mistress of a house. You forget what an important person you are, Beryl!” I answered, and she laughed.
“Now, Clare, please take a tour of inspection round the room, and be as critical as you like. I have made no attempt at arrangement yet, as you see, for I waited until you had seen over it all and told me what was wanted.”
“The windows won’t open at the top,” I said, after a vain struggle with them.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes. Many people sleep with a bit of the window open at the top, both in winter and summer. All windows should be able to be opened easily. You can get a man to see to that, for the paint has stuck, and I am afraid none of you in the house will be able to do it. Now for the blinds. These Venetians want a little repairing, and the string is so much worn, I think you had better have a new one put.”
“Very well,” said Beryl. “You see I have brought up a piece of paper and pencil, and I shall make a note of all that you say I need to do or get done.”
“That is very methodical of you, Beryl. By the way, I have not seen you since you went to lunch at the Trevors’. Was it pleasant?”
“Yes,” said Beryl emphatically. “It was delightful.”
As I know that Mr and Mrs Trevor are an extremely quiet old couple – clients of Uncle Dick’s – I was rather surprised at Beryl’s tone and the evident pleasure she had had. However I was at the moment examining the door.
“Put down ‘key’ on your list, Beryl, unless there is one somewhere belonging to this lock. And see that it turns easily,” I said. “Oh, how this door creaks! You must put a little oil down the hinge. Is the bell in working order?”
“Yes, for I tried it before you came, and you will see that the presses and drawers have keys, so that is all right.”
“Are they empty?” I inquired.
“Nearly all. You see, I keep some of my summer things in these lower drawers and half the hanging press is filled with dresses. Surely this Lizzie Delverton will have enough room for her possessions with this” – and Beryl flung over the hanging wardrobe and showed an empty half, the other half being well stocked with dresses.
“Isn’t that the dress you wore the evening you spent with us last week?” I inquired, as I recognised a pretty evening dress.
“Yes,” said Beryl, “there is more room for it here.”
“Now, dear, don’t think me cruel when I say that you must empty out the drawers and presses and leave them quite free for your visitor. I see there is a press in the wall that if you like you can fill with summer things; but the rest must be empty. It is most annoying for a visitor to have to live in her boxes, as she has to do if she does not find empty drawers and presses in which to place her belongings. It also prevents her feeling that she has her room to herself if at any moment a member of the family may come to her room to take out dresses or anything they want. By the way, of course you know that once your visitor has arrived you do not enter her room during her absence without asking her permission.”
“I did not know that,” said Beryl. “Very well, I shall move all my things into that wall press and into my own room.”
“Have you a bath for the room?”
“Yes, it is in the lumber-room at present; but it shall be brought down,” said Beryl. “And I want to get a nice bath blanket, such as you have, to throw over it.”
“Yes; and mind you have plenty of bath towels to change. A big Turkey towel should always be on the towel-horse as well as the other towels.”
“The housemaid should always ask a visitor on arrival at what hour he or she likes a bath, and whether hot or cold, and also if in winter a fire is liked or a hot water jar,” I said, for Beryl had asked me to remind her of everything that could conduce to the visitor’s comfort; and in reply to my remarks she said that she must have a fire lighted soon to air the room and bedding.
“There do not seem to be many pillows on the bed,” I remarked, “or a bolster.”
“No; none of us anything more than one pillow. I don’t think there is a bolster in the house,” said Beryl.
“You had better get one for this room,” I said, “for it is usual to find one on a bed, and if your guest does not like it she can ask the housemaid to take it away. People who do not use bolsters and only one pillow are the exceptions. I should get another pillow. How about your linen – is that in good order?”
“Yes,” said Beryl, looking pleased. “I am rather fond of nice house-linen, and when we got new sheets lately I got them all hem-stitched and the pillow-cases as well, and a few frilled pillow-cases for this room. About light, there is gas, as you see, but I suppose I had better put a little candlestick by the bed?”
“Certainly; and Beryl, do not forget the matches,” I said. “How often I have gone for a night or two at a friend’s house and not found them. Now I always carry about a box of matches with me; but everyone does not do so.”
“This is a nice sofa, is it not?”
“Very. Now if I were you, I should put a nice writing-table close to it. Many people – like myself – like to write their letters in their room; and it is such a comfort to find everything handy and a table at which one can write. I remember last autumn going to stay a few days at Stoke Newington with an old friend and finding the most perfect writing-table. It was by no means an expensive one, simply a strong table with a pretty cloth on it, but it had everything that one could want on it.”
“Oh, do tell me what the things were,” said Beryl. “I should so like to get everything, too, for I want the room very nice; and really there is a charming writing-table in the lumber-room which only wants to be polished.”
“I think I can remember everything,” I said. “Writing paper and envelopes, correspondence and post-cards – of course in a little stationery case with a blotter well filled with blotting paper. In the pocket of the blotter were some telegraph and post-office order forms, luggage labels, both gummed and to tie on. Then there was an inkstand with plenty of clean ink in it. Many people have very smart inkstands, but you often find in them only a small quantity of very dusty ink. There was a penholder and a box containing pens of different kinds, pointed nibs and broad, a penwiper, pencil-ruler, sealing-wax, pen knife, small candle and wax vestas. I think that was all. No, now I remember, there was also a calendar on the table and a card containing weights for letters, etc., and a Salter’s letter-balance.”
“Do you think it necessary to have a clock in the room?” I have one I could put upon the chimney-piece.”
“it is a great convenience,” I answered, “and another nice plan is to have a famed card on the chimney-piece stating the hours of meals and when the post goes out, or rather when letters are sent to the post. In the country it is always well to add when the posts come in, but in London or a suburb like this where they are so frequent it is unnecessary. You should leave a few books and magazines in the room in case your visitor likes to look over them at any time; and be sure you leave a night-light ready to be lighted, and have it renewed every day if it is used. Before your guest arrives it is well to see yourself that all is in order, the soap and matches in their places, some flowers on the table in a pretty vase, a pin-cushion with pins in it on the dressing-table, and everything comfortable. Servants are so apt to forget the details which are so important. How long is your guest coming for?”
“I don’t know,” said Beryl. “I did not like to ask her for a stated time.”
“it is much better to do so, and it is not at all an inhospitable arrangement. It is really a great comfort to the visitor to know for how long she is expected as then she can regulate her luggage accordingly. If she is only going on a visit of two days or a week, she actually needs less than if she was going to stay a month. If she does not know, she is on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand if she takes much luggage and finds she is not expected for a long stay, she feels as if her luggage looks as if she expected to stay some time, and if she has very little in the way of clothes, she is often much inconvenienced if the visit is longer than anticipated.”
“Then, in inviting people, is it well to ask them for a definite time?”
“Yes. You can say, ‘Will you come and stay with us from Friday to Tuesday’ or ‘We shall be delighted if you can spend a fortnight with us,’ or ‘from the 8th to the 21st’. It is always quite easy for you to ask your visitor to extend her visit if you wish to do so.”
“I am afraid I shall find it rather a bother having her here,” said Beryl, “for I have so much to do just now. I am helping May a good deal with her music, for she is working up for an examination which is to take place at her school at the Midsummer term, and I have also a good deal to do on my own account, as I am re-writing a few little papers I have written.”
“Of course, as her hostess, you must always try to ascertain your cousin’s wishes and carry them out as best you can. People vary very much indeed. Some people treat one’s house like a hotel and go in and out in a way which is hardly courteous. They are unpunctual for meals and expect odd glasses of wine and sandwiches at all hours and things to be kept hot. I hope Lizzie will not be so inconsiderate.”
“I hope not indeed, for Jane’s temper is not of the best, and it will make her very cross.”
“I am sure you will do your best to make your cousin enjoy herself,” I said, for I knew how kind-hearted and good-=natured Beryl was. “I think some people are very inconsiderate to their guests and insist upon dragging them about here and there when perhaps they would much rather be quiet, or else, if they themselves know a place thoroughly, forget that their visitor may want to see what there is to be seen, and may not care to go about always by herself.”
“It will take up a lot of my time if she wants perpetual entertaining,” said Beryl.
“But you must not suppose, Beryl, that you will require to be with your cousin all day. Far from it. Usually a visitor does not expect to see her hostess during the morning, as she concludes that she has her letters to write, housekeeping to attend to, and all kinds of matters to fill up her time. The visitor can go out to walk or stay in and read, write or work as she pleases. You are so near London that Lizzie Delverton will probably want to do no end of shopping or sight-seeing and one of you thee girls can go with her.”
“oh well, that is a relief, at least to have the mornings!” said Beryl, “but during the rest of the day I suppose I must give myself up to her or get Amy or May to be with her?”
“Just see first of all how things go. I have never met Lizzie since her marriage, so do not know her tastes. In any case you may be very glad of her being here if any of you want to go up to town to see things; it will be pleasant for all of you.”
An uneasy look passed over Beryl’s face at my words and she coloured up slightly.
“Clare, I have always forgotten to ask you something.”
“Yes, dear – what is it?”
“About going out by myself,” said Beryl. “Of course Wobury was only a village, and I went about there all the time; and when I went into Anderford, our nearest town, father or someone was always with me. Now here it is so different. I want to go into London constantly for one thing or another, and I don’t think it is quite pleasant.”
“What made you find it pleasant?”
“I was walking down Regent Street yesterday afternoon. It was so fine, and I was enjoying immensely looking in at the shop-windows, and a man came up and spoke to me. Of course I hurried on, but it alarmed me,” said Beryl, and she continued, “It is not the first time that I have been spoken to and very much stared at.”
“What had you on?”
“My new hat,” said Beryl, alluding to a charming hat which became her very much, but which was decidedly dressy and smart.
“Beryl,” I said, “to begin with, you should not walk about the Strand or Regent Street and Piccadilly by yourself in the afternoon. It is an understood thing that it is not advisable to do so, and in any case if you are obliged to go into any crowded regions unaccompanied – and you can nearly always avoid it by taking an omnibus – then you should be as quietly and unobservably dressed as possible. Indeed you should aim at that whenever you are in London by yourself.”
“I certainly shall in future,” said Beryl. “I was afraid that you were going to say that I could not go about by myself at all, and I was wondering what I should do, for of course father is too busy to come with me excepting once in a blue moon, Tom is at his lessons, and Amy and May too are usually at school.”
“They would not mend the matter. The two of you together had much better never be walking about the most frequented thoroughfares of London in the afternoon, but I repeat in an emergency if you have to go, be careful about your dress. If you have to go up to London for any purpose, go in the morning and no matter where it is walk quietly on, not stopping to look into shops and never dawdling or sauntering. If you do this, quietly dressed and not staring about you, but walking modestly and nicely – as you always do, I think, Beryl,” I added, for she looked alarmed, “then you need not be uneasy. In the upper ten thousand rank of life a girl may not be seen, excepting perhaps near her own house, unaccompanied; but in our more quiet station of life it is quite permissible. IN these days, too, when girls take up all kinds of professions, it becomes a necessity that she should go about without a chaperon.”
“Thank you very much, Clare. When my little papers are finished, I am going to take them up to an editor in a lane near Fleet Street. Mr Trevor’s nephew, Mr Ernest Trevor, has given me an introduction to the editor of the Thinker, and he thinks that they might possibility be taken there. I do so hope they will be. I was talking to Mr Trevor about it when I met him at luncheon at his uncle’s, and he was very encouraging.”
“Have you shown them to him then?” I inquired.
“Yes, and he thought them rather nice,” said Beryl, “but I must not repeat what he said,” she added, laughing. “Of course the opinions of friends are not of much value.”
“I did not know he was a friend,” I remarked.
“Oh, yes. He has come to live near us. He is boarding with the Harrington-Browns, and he often comes in the evenings to talk to father,” said Beryl.
I said nothing, though Beryl’s expression led me to wonder if my busy uncle talked all the evening only to young Trevor, whom I knew to be a rising artist. But to tease or chaff a girl about a young man, simply because he is attentive to her or they have some tastes in common, is very foreign to my taste and practice. Many people do so much harm in that way, and it always strikes me as an evidence of bad taste. Many girls are made shy and self-conscious when they are teased in this way, and what might have ended in a happy engagement often comes to nothing in consequence.
Lizzie Delverton came, and after her visit to the Thrushes, she came to see me for a week, and a very pleasant visitor I found her. She always had something to occupy her when I was busy, and always seemed to know when to efface herself. In the evenings she was always ready to play when asked to do so, and yet she was not one of those dreadful individuals who, once in possession of the music-stool, cannot be induced by hint or suggestion to vacate it.
I much enjoyed Lizzie’s visit, for she had plenty of tact. Jack is Conservative, and Lizzie, I found, is a Radical, and so is her husband, who is at present in India. I was afraid they would have unpleasant discussions, but to my surprise they had not. Everything passed off most pleasantly.
Beryl did not say much about her literary efforts to me this spring. I did not think that she was meeting with success or she would have told me about it; and later on I found that my surmise was correct. However, she seemed in excellent spirits.
In May my baby was born, and Beryl was her godmother. I got well very quickly, and when baby was a month old I was quite myself again.
One day Beryl came in to see me, and after we had done a good deal of baby-worship, she asked me what I had been about before she came in, for my table was covered with bundles of letters.
“I am looking over old letters and I am going to destroy a great many,” I said.
“Those look very old,” remarked Beryl, referring to a packet of yellow letters.
“Yes, they were some my father possessed, old family letters now of no interest to anyone.”
“I wish you would give me some hints upon letter-writing,” said Beryl.
I shook my head.
“Ask mother – she is the one to tell you all about letter-writing,” I said, and as mother came in at that moment, I told her of Beryl’s request and she settled herself down and said she would willingly give her a few hints about it.
“This room will do very nicely, I think, said Beryl. “If there is anything necessary, Clare, you must be sure to tell me. Father says I must get anything that is wanted. This Lizzie Delverton is really a second cousin of father’s and not a bit old. She lives at Brighton with her husband and children, and father saw her there last month and liked her so much that he told me to invite her here. I cannot think why he could not have asked her himself.”
“Because an invitation always should come from the mistress of a house. You forget what an important person you are, Beryl!” I answered, and she laughed.
“Now, Clare, please take a tour of inspection round the room, and be as critical as you like. I have made no attempt at arrangement yet, as you see, for I waited until you had seen over it all and told me what was wanted.”
“The windows won’t open at the top,” I said, after a vain struggle with them.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes. Many people sleep with a bit of the window open at the top, both in winter and summer. All windows should be able to be opened easily. You can get a man to see to that, for the paint has stuck, and I am afraid none of you in the house will be able to do it. Now for the blinds. These Venetians want a little repairing, and the string is so much worn, I think you had better have a new one put.”
“Very well,” said Beryl. “You see I have brought up a piece of paper and pencil, and I shall make a note of all that you say I need to do or get done.”
“That is very methodical of you, Beryl. By the way, I have not seen you since you went to lunch at the Trevors’. Was it pleasant?”
“Yes,” said Beryl emphatically. “It was delightful.”
As I know that Mr and Mrs Trevor are an extremely quiet old couple – clients of Uncle Dick’s – I was rather surprised at Beryl’s tone and the evident pleasure she had had. However I was at the moment examining the door.
“Put down ‘key’ on your list, Beryl, unless there is one somewhere belonging to this lock. And see that it turns easily,” I said. “Oh, how this door creaks! You must put a little oil down the hinge. Is the bell in working order?”
“Yes, for I tried it before you came, and you will see that the presses and drawers have keys, so that is all right.”
“Are they empty?” I inquired.
“Nearly all. You see, I keep some of my summer things in these lower drawers and half the hanging press is filled with dresses. Surely this Lizzie Delverton will have enough room for her possessions with this” – and Beryl flung over the hanging wardrobe and showed an empty half, the other half being well stocked with dresses.
“Isn’t that the dress you wore the evening you spent with us last week?” I inquired, as I recognised a pretty evening dress.
“Yes,” said Beryl, “there is more room for it here.”
“Now, dear, don’t think me cruel when I say that you must empty out the drawers and presses and leave them quite free for your visitor. I see there is a press in the wall that if you like you can fill with summer things; but the rest must be empty. It is most annoying for a visitor to have to live in her boxes, as she has to do if she does not find empty drawers and presses in which to place her belongings. It also prevents her feeling that she has her room to herself if at any moment a member of the family may come to her room to take out dresses or anything they want. By the way, of course you know that once your visitor has arrived you do not enter her room during her absence without asking her permission.”
“I did not know that,” said Beryl. “Very well, I shall move all my things into that wall press and into my own room.”
“Have you a bath for the room?”
“Yes, it is in the lumber-room at present; but it shall be brought down,” said Beryl. “And I want to get a nice bath blanket, such as you have, to throw over it.”
“Yes; and mind you have plenty of bath towels to change. A big Turkey towel should always be on the towel-horse as well as the other towels.”
“The housemaid should always ask a visitor on arrival at what hour he or she likes a bath, and whether hot or cold, and also if in winter a fire is liked or a hot water jar,” I said, for Beryl had asked me to remind her of everything that could conduce to the visitor’s comfort; and in reply to my remarks she said that she must have a fire lighted soon to air the room and bedding.
“There do not seem to be many pillows on the bed,” I remarked, “or a bolster.”
“No; none of us anything more than one pillow. I don’t think there is a bolster in the house,” said Beryl.
“You had better get one for this room,” I said, “for it is usual to find one on a bed, and if your guest does not like it she can ask the housemaid to take it away. People who do not use bolsters and only one pillow are the exceptions. I should get another pillow. How about your linen – is that in good order?”
“Yes,” said Beryl, looking pleased. “I am rather fond of nice house-linen, and when we got new sheets lately I got them all hem-stitched and the pillow-cases as well, and a few frilled pillow-cases for this room. About light, there is gas, as you see, but I suppose I had better put a little candlestick by the bed?”
“Certainly; and Beryl, do not forget the matches,” I said. “How often I have gone for a night or two at a friend’s house and not found them. Now I always carry about a box of matches with me; but everyone does not do so.”
“This is a nice sofa, is it not?”
“Very. Now if I were you, I should put a nice writing-table close to it. Many people – like myself – like to write their letters in their room; and it is such a comfort to find everything handy and a table at which one can write. I remember last autumn going to stay a few days at Stoke Newington with an old friend and finding the most perfect writing-table. It was by no means an expensive one, simply a strong table with a pretty cloth on it, but it had everything that one could want on it.”
“Oh, do tell me what the things were,” said Beryl. “I should so like to get everything, too, for I want the room very nice; and really there is a charming writing-table in the lumber-room which only wants to be polished.”
“I think I can remember everything,” I said. “Writing paper and envelopes, correspondence and post-cards – of course in a little stationery case with a blotter well filled with blotting paper. In the pocket of the blotter were some telegraph and post-office order forms, luggage labels, both gummed and to tie on. Then there was an inkstand with plenty of clean ink in it. Many people have very smart inkstands, but you often find in them only a small quantity of very dusty ink. There was a penholder and a box containing pens of different kinds, pointed nibs and broad, a penwiper, pencil-ruler, sealing-wax, pen knife, small candle and wax vestas. I think that was all. No, now I remember, there was also a calendar on the table and a card containing weights for letters, etc., and a Salter’s letter-balance.”
“Do you think it necessary to have a clock in the room?” I have one I could put upon the chimney-piece.”
“it is a great convenience,” I answered, “and another nice plan is to have a famed card on the chimney-piece stating the hours of meals and when the post goes out, or rather when letters are sent to the post. In the country it is always well to add when the posts come in, but in London or a suburb like this where they are so frequent it is unnecessary. You should leave a few books and magazines in the room in case your visitor likes to look over them at any time; and be sure you leave a night-light ready to be lighted, and have it renewed every day if it is used. Before your guest arrives it is well to see yourself that all is in order, the soap and matches in their places, some flowers on the table in a pretty vase, a pin-cushion with pins in it on the dressing-table, and everything comfortable. Servants are so apt to forget the details which are so important. How long is your guest coming for?”
“I don’t know,” said Beryl. “I did not like to ask her for a stated time.”
“it is much better to do so, and it is not at all an inhospitable arrangement. It is really a great comfort to the visitor to know for how long she is expected as then she can regulate her luggage accordingly. If she is only going on a visit of two days or a week, she actually needs less than if she was going to stay a month. If she does not know, she is on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand if she takes much luggage and finds she is not expected for a long stay, she feels as if her luggage looks as if she expected to stay some time, and if she has very little in the way of clothes, she is often much inconvenienced if the visit is longer than anticipated.”
“Then, in inviting people, is it well to ask them for a definite time?”
“Yes. You can say, ‘Will you come and stay with us from Friday to Tuesday’ or ‘We shall be delighted if you can spend a fortnight with us,’ or ‘from the 8th to the 21st’. It is always quite easy for you to ask your visitor to extend her visit if you wish to do so.”
“I am afraid I shall find it rather a bother having her here,” said Beryl, “for I have so much to do just now. I am helping May a good deal with her music, for she is working up for an examination which is to take place at her school at the Midsummer term, and I have also a good deal to do on my own account, as I am re-writing a few little papers I have written.”
“Of course, as her hostess, you must always try to ascertain your cousin’s wishes and carry them out as best you can. People vary very much indeed. Some people treat one’s house like a hotel and go in and out in a way which is hardly courteous. They are unpunctual for meals and expect odd glasses of wine and sandwiches at all hours and things to be kept hot. I hope Lizzie will not be so inconsiderate.”
“I hope not indeed, for Jane’s temper is not of the best, and it will make her very cross.”
“I am sure you will do your best to make your cousin enjoy herself,” I said, for I knew how kind-hearted and good-=natured Beryl was. “I think some people are very inconsiderate to their guests and insist upon dragging them about here and there when perhaps they would much rather be quiet, or else, if they themselves know a place thoroughly, forget that their visitor may want to see what there is to be seen, and may not care to go about always by herself.”
“It will take up a lot of my time if she wants perpetual entertaining,” said Beryl.
“But you must not suppose, Beryl, that you will require to be with your cousin all day. Far from it. Usually a visitor does not expect to see her hostess during the morning, as she concludes that she has her letters to write, housekeeping to attend to, and all kinds of matters to fill up her time. The visitor can go out to walk or stay in and read, write or work as she pleases. You are so near London that Lizzie Delverton will probably want to do no end of shopping or sight-seeing and one of you thee girls can go with her.”
“oh well, that is a relief, at least to have the mornings!” said Beryl, “but during the rest of the day I suppose I must give myself up to her or get Amy or May to be with her?”
“Just see first of all how things go. I have never met Lizzie since her marriage, so do not know her tastes. In any case you may be very glad of her being here if any of you want to go up to town to see things; it will be pleasant for all of you.”
An uneasy look passed over Beryl’s face at my words and she coloured up slightly.
“Clare, I have always forgotten to ask you something.”
“Yes, dear – what is it?”
“About going out by myself,” said Beryl. “Of course Wobury was only a village, and I went about there all the time; and when I went into Anderford, our nearest town, father or someone was always with me. Now here it is so different. I want to go into London constantly for one thing or another, and I don’t think it is quite pleasant.”
“What made you find it pleasant?”
“I was walking down Regent Street yesterday afternoon. It was so fine, and I was enjoying immensely looking in at the shop-windows, and a man came up and spoke to me. Of course I hurried on, but it alarmed me,” said Beryl, and she continued, “It is not the first time that I have been spoken to and very much stared at.”
“What had you on?”
“My new hat,” said Beryl, alluding to a charming hat which became her very much, but which was decidedly dressy and smart.
“Beryl,” I said, “to begin with, you should not walk about the Strand or Regent Street and Piccadilly by yourself in the afternoon. It is an understood thing that it is not advisable to do so, and in any case if you are obliged to go into any crowded regions unaccompanied – and you can nearly always avoid it by taking an omnibus – then you should be as quietly and unobservably dressed as possible. Indeed you should aim at that whenever you are in London by yourself.”
“I certainly shall in future,” said Beryl. “I was afraid that you were going to say that I could not go about by myself at all, and I was wondering what I should do, for of course father is too busy to come with me excepting once in a blue moon, Tom is at his lessons, and Amy and May too are usually at school.”
“They would not mend the matter. The two of you together had much better never be walking about the most frequented thoroughfares of London in the afternoon, but I repeat in an emergency if you have to go, be careful about your dress. If you have to go up to London for any purpose, go in the morning and no matter where it is walk quietly on, not stopping to look into shops and never dawdling or sauntering. If you do this, quietly dressed and not staring about you, but walking modestly and nicely – as you always do, I think, Beryl,” I added, for she looked alarmed, “then you need not be uneasy. In the upper ten thousand rank of life a girl may not be seen, excepting perhaps near her own house, unaccompanied; but in our more quiet station of life it is quite permissible. IN these days, too, when girls take up all kinds of professions, it becomes a necessity that she should go about without a chaperon.”
“Thank you very much, Clare. When my little papers are finished, I am going to take them up to an editor in a lane near Fleet Street. Mr Trevor’s nephew, Mr Ernest Trevor, has given me an introduction to the editor of the Thinker, and he thinks that they might possibility be taken there. I do so hope they will be. I was talking to Mr Trevor about it when I met him at luncheon at his uncle’s, and he was very encouraging.”
“Have you shown them to him then?” I inquired.
“Yes, and he thought them rather nice,” said Beryl, “but I must not repeat what he said,” she added, laughing. “Of course the opinions of friends are not of much value.”
“I did not know he was a friend,” I remarked.
“Oh, yes. He has come to live near us. He is boarding with the Harrington-Browns, and he often comes in the evenings to talk to father,” said Beryl.
I said nothing, though Beryl’s expression led me to wonder if my busy uncle talked all the evening only to young Trevor, whom I knew to be a rising artist. But to tease or chaff a girl about a young man, simply because he is attentive to her or they have some tastes in common, is very foreign to my taste and practice. Many people do so much harm in that way, and it always strikes me as an evidence of bad taste. Many girls are made shy and self-conscious when they are teased in this way, and what might have ended in a happy engagement often comes to nothing in consequence.
Lizzie Delverton came, and after her visit to the Thrushes, she came to see me for a week, and a very pleasant visitor I found her. She always had something to occupy her when I was busy, and always seemed to know when to efface herself. In the evenings she was always ready to play when asked to do so, and yet she was not one of those dreadful individuals who, once in possession of the music-stool, cannot be induced by hint or suggestion to vacate it.
I much enjoyed Lizzie’s visit, for she had plenty of tact. Jack is Conservative, and Lizzie, I found, is a Radical, and so is her husband, who is at present in India. I was afraid they would have unpleasant discussions, but to my surprise they had not. Everything passed off most pleasantly.
Beryl did not say much about her literary efforts to me this spring. I did not think that she was meeting with success or she would have told me about it; and later on I found that my surmise was correct. However, she seemed in excellent spirits.
In May my baby was born, and Beryl was her godmother. I got well very quickly, and when baby was a month old I was quite myself again.
One day Beryl came in to see me, and after we had done a good deal of baby-worship, she asked me what I had been about before she came in, for my table was covered with bundles of letters.
“I am looking over old letters and I am going to destroy a great many,” I said.
“Those look very old,” remarked Beryl, referring to a packet of yellow letters.
“Yes, they were some my father possessed, old family letters now of no interest to anyone.”
“I wish you would give me some hints upon letter-writing,” said Beryl.
I shook my head.
“Ask mother – she is the one to tell you all about letter-writing,” I said, and as mother came in at that moment, I told her of Beryl’s request and she settled herself down and said she would willingly give her a few hints about it.
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
17 April 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Housekeeping
EMMELINE H.R.- Could you not take some lessons from a good ironer. You
will find that practice is the chief thing.
A.K. OSBORNE – You should not have tried two such different methods with
your mahogany table. Have the varnish scraped off, and apply a good polich such
as is sold for the cleaning of dining room furniture.
J.U.T. – We do not understand what difficulty there can be in
repainting your bedstead.
DAISY – 1. Wash the crewel-work in bran-water. 2. We have no recipe by which
you could remove marking-ink from linen, without destroying the material.
M.S.T. – To remove stains from white marble. Mix common whitening to a
paste with warm water, in which you have first dissolved a piece of soda the
size of a filbert. Rub the stains well with this on a piece of clean flannel,
wash off with Hudson’s soap powder and water. If this does not remove the
marks, leave the paste on the stains for twenty-four hours, then wash off as
above directed, and polish well with a soft duster or silk handkerchief.
DAISY J – Stains for deal may be purchased at any oil shop.
F.G.E. – Keep no food in your bedroom, and the mice will probably
desert it. If you kept a scrap of toasted cheese on your bed, very likely the
mice would manage to climb up there, but we do not think they would bite you
(as you seem to apprehend) when they had the choice of eating the cheese. We
never heard that the bite of a mouse was fatal.
USEFUL – In spite of the style of your grammar, as exemplified on your
post-card, we commend your desire to be useful. To “make your collars and cuffs
look like new”, after you have washed them yourself, try stirring the starch when
boiling with a wax candle.
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