"Ranges and Fires," because it was the
beginning of all housekeeping.

Margaret put on her biggest, longest-sleeved gingham apron, got a hearth
brush, a dust-pan, the little dish which held the stove blacking, brush
and polisher, rolled up her sleeves and prepared to listen.

"The reason why so many women find cooking hard work," her mother
began, "is because they do not understand their range or stove. They
cannot make a fire grow hot quickly, or make it cooler if it is too hot;
they do not know how to get what the cook-books call a 'moderate oven.'
'We never could understand about drafts and things,' they say, but the
real truth of the matter is that they are too lazy to try and learn, I'm
afraid, because it is so very simple that even a little girl can learn
about it in ten minutes. The only way to be a good housekeeper is to
understand all about a fire and how to keep a kitchen range in a good
temper."

Margaret laughed at this, but her mother said stoves were just like
people, and sometimes would refuse to do as they were told, and were
cross and sulky; but they could be as pleasant and smiling and obliging
as a good little girl. Then she took off the covers and explained all
about the inside of the range. "You see," she began, "the fire is in a
sort of box lined with heavy brick. Now, if the coals come up to the
very top of this, or lie on its edges, they will crack the brick as they
get heated, and so spoil it, and fire-brick is very expensive and
troublesome to replace. You can heat the sides and bottom very hot, and
it will not hurt it, but not the top edges. So, in putting on coal you
must never let it quite fill the box, and after you set the scuttle down
on the floor you must take the long poker and feel all around on top of
the ovens and see if any bit has rolled there, and bring it back where
it belongs. If it should roll down the sides you could not get it out,
and it would spoil the draft and injure the stove. Now if you understand
all this we will shake out the coal and make a new fire."

"Oh, let me shake!" exclaimed Margaret, and before her mother could stop
her she had put in the shaker and moved it about so quickly that the
ashes came out of the open covers and drafts and filled the room, and
both she and her mother were coughing and choking.

Her mother stopped her. "That isn't the way to shake a fire," she said.
"The covers must all go on first, and everything be shut up tight." Then
she sho