1915. 
THE RURAb NEW-YORKER 
75 
Do It Now. 
HE electric door bell wouldn’t work, 
and help could not be bad. 
“Why don’t you look into it and wipe 
off all those little places?” inquired the 
Visitor. “We do that to our telephone. 
After a storm it often bothers, gets 
blurred up someway.” 
The Young Person went at once to 
wox-k and in a few minutes the bell was 
ringing as clearly as ever, and inconven¬ 
ience was saved as well as money. 
A board in the floor of the guest room 
creaked, and often seemed to do it with¬ 
out help, in a most disconcerting way. 
The Visitor came home with some para¬ 
ffin, melted it and carried it to her room. 
She lifted the rug, scraped the dirt from 
between the old boards, poured the melt¬ 
ed paraffin in the crack and the creak 
and noise was cured for years to come. 
“Oh Visitor!” cried the Young Person, 
“the castors on this bed just drag. What 
shall I do for them?” 
The Visitor laughed. “I had some cas¬ 
tors like that and scratched up a per¬ 
fectly good floor with them, and then de¬ 
cided to look into the matter w T ith a 
little oil. Before I applied the oil, how¬ 
ever, I discovered that the castors were 
knotted up with threads, hairs, and sun¬ 
dry accumulations. After extracting these 
and it took time, I used a little oil and 
the castors have worked all right since. 
It saved the price of new castors and 
also taught a lesson of cleanliness.” 
“Now,” said the Young Person, get¬ 
ting a note book and settling herself com¬ 
fortably, “I want you to tell me all you 
know about fixing things!” 
The Visitor laughed, “Well, I have 
lived a thousand miles from a lemon, you 
know, and I have either had to fix things 
or let them go un-fixed. I did that at 
first, then I began to use my mind a 
little. A door had creaked for months 
and, just as sure as the baby fell into 
a sleep, that door would just naturally 
creak. Just to save the child, who was 
frail and slept only fitfully, I finally de¬ 
cided to apply a little oil to the hinges 
after cleaning them out. This did the 
work, and I have never suffered since 
with a creaking door.” 
The Young Person listened attentively, 
and made a note, “Oil a door hinge to 
keep a baby asleep.” 
“The water faucet leaked and in spite 
of everything the pail beneath it would 
run over upon occasions from this con¬ 
stant dripping. I reasoned that there 
must be a cause, something must be loose 
somewhere, so I unscrewed the faucet, 
cut a washer out of a piece of an old felt 
hat, pushed it iu place, screwed the fau¬ 
cet back, and lo, -the dripping stopped 
and comfort reigned.” 
“Ours did the same thing, and it cost 
us a dollar and a half to get it fixed,” 
commented the Young Person, and made 
a characteristic note, “Old felt hat for 
leaky water faucet.” 
“No one on earth would know what 
that meant,” protested the Visitor. 
“I shall know,” the Young Person said 
succinctly. “Go on.” 
“The door in our company room sagged 
so it would not shut, and a young man 
came. After a little he asked: ‘Would 
you like to have me fix that door?’ ‘In¬ 
deed yes!’ I replied, ‘but I suppose the 
hinges will have to be changed, and spoil 
the looks of the door.’ ‘Not at all, I’ll 
take the door off and whittle a little bit 
off the bottom edge, it just rubs a little.’ 
So a few shavings fixed that, and I know 
I could have done it myself.” 
“A young man and a jackknife for 
sagging door,” the pencil wrote in the 
memorandum. “Anything more about 
doors?” inquired the Young Person. 
“Yes, they get spells when they will 
not latch, and if the door has not sagged 
it is because something is broken or else 
a little oil is needed. Sometimes a little 
oil applied about the very latch itself 
will do the fixing, and sometimes the 
whole fastening will have to be un¬ 
screwed and looked over; if a small 
spring is broken get a new one, but in 
nine cases out of ten a little oil fixes it.” 
“Lubricate the latches,” ran the note, 
“Next,” came the young voice. 
“Chair rungs have a fashion of getting 
loose, and I found that an application of 
white lead (common stuff used for paint, 
but thick) put on where it would do the 
most good, the rung pressed into place, 
the surplus lead wiped off and the chair 
put away to get thoroughly dry, fixed 
that. Then old-fashioned cane seat 
chairs get ‘baggy,’ boiling water poured 
through the canes generously, two of 
three pailsful to a chair, will shrink the 
canes in place again, and after drying 
in the sun the chairs look as good as 
new.” 
“Any experience with ink on hardwood 
floors?” the Young Person inquired. “I 
just about spoiled a floor with ink, and 
the carpenter says he'll have to cut a 
chunk out and put a new piece in. It’ll 
cost the price of a new pair of shoes!” 
“I never did take ink out of hardwood 
floors, but I took chemical spots off an 
oak table, where an amateur photograph¬ 
er spilled stuff. It just about ruined the 
table, but he took a piece of sandpaper, 
scrubbed the place over, rubbed and 
rubbed in oil and finally oiled the table 
all over and rubbed it. It looked better 
than before. I think the same thing 
would do on the hardwood floor with ink. 
Being hardwood, and pi’obably oiled, the 
ink wouldn’t sink in as it might in soft 
wood. Use some of the finish to match 
the rest of the floor.” 
“Eureka! that’s worth a lot to know!” 
“Talking about floors reminds me of 
an inlaid linoleum. They’re hard to 
clean.” 
“I’ve had experience,” the Young Per¬ 
son agreed. 
“I found out that a cup of kerosene 
in the mop water, for a large floor did 
the work well and easily. I use a mop 
wringer pail though, it might not be 
pleasant for the hands. Then, too, I 
found that I could go over half the floor 
with a varnish or floor finish in half an 
hour, so now I do half the floor one day 
and half the next. I give it two coats 
twice a year, and that keeps it smooth 
and fine, and inlaid linoleums do wear 
out; they break out where inlaid, so are 
really not very much more valuable than 
a common linoleum well taken care off.” 
“What would you do if you wanted to 
use linoleum over a very old, bad floor? 
It would crack out over the rough 
places.” 
“I used a heavy building paper under 
mine, and if the floor were vei’y had I 
should pad under the building paper with 
straw; that is much softer than excelsior 
and it lasts well. We let a linoleum lie 
on the floor a week before fastening, 
then it is exactly cut to fit, and quarter- 
round moldings are used to hold it in 
place. Being nailed down, this keeps all 
dirt from getting under the linoleum. 
Places where moldings can’t be used are 
bound with brass binding. I use coarse 
rugs and these may be darned with raffia 
if they begin to break, though they’re in¬ 
expensive enough. I have to have a slop- 
pail, and the linoleum seems always wet 
by it, and likely to wear or rot out. A 
fibre rug under this solves that problem. 
It can easily be washed and dried, and 
saves much more than it costs. 
“Yes, go on.” 
“I’ve mended a leaky gas jet with 
chewing gun temporarily, but to unscrew 
it and swab the threads where it screws 
together with white lead, pi tting it back, 
will do a permanent job and save a 
plumber’s bill. I’ve mended a hot-water 
bottle with the liquid men use for cracks 
on their fingers, and when it leaked 
about the cork a rubber washer was 
added and the leak stopped. A small 
leak in a wash boiler may he stopped 
temporarily with cornmeal, put a little 
into the water, and the leak itself will 
furnish suction enough to draw it to 
place. Of course this will only enable 
one to finish the wash begun, but it is 
worth knowing. 
“A break in the plaster, or a loose tile, 
or loose top around a lamp may all be 
mended with plaster of Paris. Simply 
wet with cold water and plaster where it 
is needed. All extra may be wiped off, 
and it hardens quickly.” 
ROSE SEELYE-MILLEB. 
Little Test Cakes. 
N the old days of the bountiful Thanks¬ 
giving, the day of all days in New 
England, when each housewife was mak¬ 
ing the pound cake, a sacred duty, con¬ 
scientiously performed yearly, the little 
girls were excited with the importance 
of their part in work. Each great cake 
had a number of little pattypan cakes 
made from the delicious mass of sweet¬ 
ness and spice before the large loaf was 
consigned to the oven. These little cakes 
were carried by the little maids of the 
household to the neighbors, to be sam¬ 
pled, tested and commented on, before 
baking the crowning effort of the day. 
I have often wondered if a bit of these 
small cakes fell to the little trusty ones 
who delivered them. Perhaps, like some 
of our busy modern workers, the job of 
service satisfied. b. 
A Little Girl’s Cooking. 
Part I. 
G RANDMA was sick. Olga took some 
sort of care of her and cooked 
things. Grandpa and the hired men 
managed to eat. Little Sallie went to 
school, put up her own luncheons, and 
did all she knew how for Grandma’s 
comfort. 
“I wish I was big enough to cook,” 
she sighed, sitting on Grandpa’s knee. 
“You see Grandma doesn’t eat what Olga 
carries her. When I take away her 
breakfast tray she has scarcely tasted 
anything.” 
“I don’t wonder,” Grandpa admitted, 
and he sighed too. 
“Yes, the cereal is so lumpy and the 
egg is fried bottom up, or maybe hard 
as a rock if it is boiled, and the toast 
either bux-ned or half raw. When Grand¬ 
ma gets well I’ll learn to cook, if I am 
little.” 
“Maybe you could leaim now. Gi’and- 
ma has a pretty clear head and could tell 
you.” Later that evening Gx-andpa 
laughed to see Sallie standing by Grand¬ 
ma’s bed taking a lesson. She had a 
pan with some dry wheatina in it and 
was practicing by lifting some in an 
oatmeal dish and scattex-ing it off by a 
right and left motion of her hand. She 
also had a tablespoon. “See Grandpa,” 
she cried. “I put two tablespoonfuls 
of the cereal for each serving, that’s four 
for Grandma and me, and so much salt,” 
and she took up a salt spopnful on the 
tip of her spoon to illustrate. “Then I 
have a cup and a half of boiling water 
bubbling in a saucepan. (I can add 
more water later if it seems too stiff). 
Then I stir with my right hand and do 
this with my left.” And again she scat¬ 
tered the wheatina. “See it goes over in 
sheets just as the water does when the 
wind blows it over the mill dam when 
the pond is only level full. I keep doing 
that till it is all in, and then I stir a 
while, for five minutes maybe, and then 
cover the saucepan and leave it on the 
back part of -the range to cook vei’y slow¬ 
ly. If it is to stand long I shall set the 
saucepan into a bigger one a third full 
of boiling water, for Olga has let the 
double boiler boil dry and spoil. And 
then I make the toast and boil the eggs.” 
“Well, how do you get the eggs just 
right?” “I make the toast next,” 
laughed Sallie. “I don’t have it cut too 
thick or too thin, and I lay it in the 
oven a few minutes first to warm and, if 
there’s a clear coal fire, I use the long 
toasting fork and do each slice just right. 
But if it is a wood fire I lay half the 
wire broiler on the hot stove lids and put 
on all the slices and keep turning them 
about, and I don’t mean to let one burn. 
If I do I can scrape it with a knife, but 
it is not so good. The eggs will be the 
worst ’cause you can’t see. But I shall 
take the cereal dish out of the big sauce¬ 
pan and take off the stove lid so the 
water in it can be made to boil very hard. 
I shall put them in with a spoon to be 
sure not to crack the shells. And Grand¬ 
ma likes hers four minutes by the clock. 
That’s why you must have the water boil 
so hard that they may not cool it but be¬ 
gin boiling at once. There’s another way. 
It is to put them in -boiling water on the 
back part of the range for seven minutes 
where the water will keep steaming hot, 
but not bubbling. If I want one for my 
luncheon box I shall boil it 15 minutes.” 
LINA MENKE. 
Quick Biscuits.—One quart of flour, 
two heaping tablespoonfuls of lard, two 
cups of sweet—if you can get it—new 
milk, one teaspoonful of soda, two tea¬ 
spoonfuls of cream tartar, one saltspoon- 
ful of salt. Rub the soda and cream 
tartar into the flour and sift all together 
before they are wet, then put in the salt, 
next the lard, rubbed into the prepax-ed 
flour quickly and lightly; lastly, pour in 
the milk. Work the dough rapidly, 
kneading with as few strokes as possible. 
Roll out lightly, cut into cakes at least 
half an inch thick, and bake in a quick 
oven. 
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