ust think" to close the library blinds
when he has finished looking for a missing book, instead of allowing
the hot sunshine and flies to enter at their own sweet will, until,
two hours after his departure for the office, you descend to the
apartment which you had already dusted and darkened, and find it
filled with heat and buzz! If that big boy of yours _could_ remember
to strip the covers from his bed when he arises and if your pretty
daughter could cultivate her bump of order sufficiently to refrain
from leaving a hat of some description in every room on the first
floor, and her jacket on the banisters! Nobody but yourself knows how
many precious minutes you expend in righting these wrongs caused by
others' carelessness. John would advise grandly that you "Let Bridget
attend to these matters. Why keep a dog and do your own barking?" If
he is particularly sympathetic and generous, he will inform you
seriously that your time is too precious to spend on beggarly trifles,
and that if one servant cannot do the work of the establishment, he
wants you to hire another. Perhaps you ungratefully retort that "it
will only make one more for you to follow up and supplement."

It would be an excellent plan for each member of the household to
resolve to put in its proper place everything which he or she observed
out of order. By the time this rule had been established for
twenty-four hours, the house would be immaculate, and the mother find
ample time for her mission,--if she has any beside general
chink-filler for the family. If not, she will have an opportunity to
rest.

A well-known author, who is at the same time an exemplary housewife,
tells of how she retired one rainy spring morning to her study in just
the mood for writing. Husband and sons had gone to their various
occupations. She had a splendid day for work ahead of her. She sat
down to her desk and took up her pen. The plot of a story was forming
itself in her brain. She dipped her pen in the ink and wrote:

"He was--"

A knock at the door. Enter Anne.

"Please, mem, a mouse has eat a hole in one of your handsome
napkins,--them as I was to wash agin the company you're expectin'
to-morrow night. By rights it should be mended before it's washed."

"Bring it to the sewing-room."

When the neat piece of darning was ended, the housekeeper repaired to
the closet to put on a loose writing-sack. On the nail next to the
jacket hung her winter coat. On the edge of the s