Marion Harland's Complete Cook Book: A Practical and Exhaustive Manual of Cookery and Housekeeping

me!” If malcontent Mary but knew it, he pays the highest possible compliment to her, as woman and housekeeper, by taking her welcome for granted. I heard a man say the other day of another: “He is a royally good fellow, and, I take it, is happily married. He begged me to dine with him when I called at his office, and without giving his wife notice. A fellow doesn’t take such liberties with his wife unless he is pretty sure of her and her housekeeping. I couldn’t accept the invitation, but the impression left upon my mind was most agreeable.” It is worth Mary’s while to score a point in her favor with her husband’s friends and to strengthen her hold upon him by meeting the unexpected guest with frank cordiality, and in every other way making the best of the situation. She keeps the house, and has the work and worry that go with the keeping. John pays for the material part of the home. How much it signifies to him the best of wives does not always know. It is his stimulus, his hope, his sheet anchor, when all the waves and billows of business trouble go over his soul—his haven of refuge—the nearest approach to Heaven he can find on this side of the dark river. He has a lien—in legal phrase—upon all the benefits accruing therefrom. The exercise of spontaneous hospitality is not the least of these. I am so unhappy as to know a woman who has her whole house, including attic and cellar, swept every week and dusted thoroughly daily. Every picture is taken down on Saturday morning that the backs and cords may be wiped off with a damp cloth wet with a disinfectant. She changes servants from twelve to twenty-four times a year. She will tell you with an air of calm sad conviction, that “there is not one tolerably efficient maid in America.” Her daughters have been her slaves since they could wield broom and duster. They are pale and thin; their eyes have a hunted look and are hollowed