at isn't half. I see you needed
the lesson on the attic, as I thought. Now listen:

"You see it is rather dark up here, and so moths love the place, and if
it was left to them they would eat up all that is in the trunks. The
first thing in cleaning an attic is to empty all the trunks, one at a
time, and look everything over. There are pieces of clothing which may
be used again which have to go outdoors on the line in the sunshine and
be beaten, and furs, especially, require this done frequently. Your
pretty little baby things are in one trunk, and those your mother wishes
to keep always, so she airs them and refolds the dresses so they will
not get discolored streaks by lying always one way; the flannels are
aired, too, and folded in papers with perhaps a bit of camphor or a moth
ball, though these are not as much protection as the constant airing and
shaking is.

"In that large trunk there are some old silk dresses, and such things,
which are also to be kept. Moths do not touch silks, but these, too,
must be taken out and shaken and refolded once in awhile to keep them
from cracking in the places where they have laid. Once a year, at least,
all trunks must be emptied, wiped out, and relined with fresh papers,
the things aired and put back freshly.

"If there are any clothes which are being kept which, after all, are not
needed, it is always best to give them away before they are out of style
or moth-eaten. It is wrong to keep things one does not want when so many
are cold. One always keeps certain things like your mother's
wedding-gown, and some handsome pieces of velvet, too valuable to give
away, and other things which would be of no use to any one else; but
your father's old clothes, and your outgrown dresses, and my heavy
winter coat which I shall not wear again, must all go before they are
half-spoiled by lying.

"You see there are several piece-bags hanging up; those we must go over,
too. We always keep bits of our dresses to patch with, or to use in
re-making them. But sometimes we keep the pieces long after the dress is
gone, when perhaps some one would like them for patchwork, or to make a
pincushion or needle-book out of. The pieces must be sorted often, the
woollen ones put by themselves with moth balls, and the silk and cotton
ones divided, some to keep, and some to give to anybody who needs them
more than we do.

"The roll of old carpet is to go away, too, this time to be made into a
kitchen rug. Car