Sometimes just as we were going to church, I was too little at the time to remember, mother said that a small black boy with very white teeth and a very woolly head, would pop up at her chamber door, exclaiming,

“Howdy, Miss Emmeline.  Miss ‘Tilda done sent me to borrow yo’ Prayer-book.  She goin’ to church to-day herself.”

Or, of a summer evening, her maid would appear with a modest request for Miss Emmeline’s lace shawl and red satin fan; Miss ’Tilda wanted to make a call and had nothing to wear.

All this, I think, made mother perfectly set against our ever borrowing so much as a slatepencil or a pin.  We were always to use our own things or go without.  I never had a sister, but cousins often spent months at the house, and were in and out of my room in the freest way, forever bringing me their gloves to mend or their ties to clean, as cousins will.

“Never borrow,” said my mother.  “Buy, or give away, or do without, but be beholden to nobody for a loan.”

Another rule for little housekeepers is to wash their hands and faces and have their hair in the nicest order before they begin to cook.  The nails should be cleaned and the toilet attended to as carefully as if the girl were going to a party, before she begins any work in the kitchen.

I suppose you think my bill of fare for a company tea very plain, but I hadn’t time for anything elaborate.  Besides, if what you have is very good, and set on the table prettily, most people will be satisfied even if the fare is simple.

“Apple-sauce,” said Amy one day, “is a dish I never touch.  We used to have it so often at school that I grew tired at the sight of it.”

But Amy did eat apple-sauce at our house.  Aunt Hetty taught me how to make it, and I think it very good.  We always cook it in an earthenware crock over a very quick fire.  This is our receipt:  Pare and slice the apples, eight large ones are sufficient for a generous dish, and put them on with a very little water.  As soon as they are soft and pulpy stir in enough granulated sugar to make them as sweet as your father and brothers like them.  Take them off and strain them through a fine sieve into a glass dish.  Cook the apple-sauce about two hours before it is wanted on the table.  Put beside it a bowl of whipped cream, and when you help to the sauce add a heaping spoonful of the cream to every dish.

People spoil apple-sauce by making it carelessly, so that it is lumpy and coarse, or has seeds or bits of the core sticking in it, and mother says that both apple-pies and apple-sauce should be used the day they are made.  They lose their bouquet, the fine delicate flavor is all gone if you keep them long before using.  A great divine used to say that “the natural life of an apple pie is just twelve hours.”

Tapioca Blanc-Mange.—­This is the receipt:  One pint of fresh milk, three-quarters of a cupful of sugar, half a pound of tapioca soaked in cold water four hours, a small teaspoonful of vanilla, a pinch of salt.  Heat the milk and stir in the tapioca previously soaked.  Mix well and add the sugar.  Boil it slowly fifteen minutes, then take it off and beat until nearly cold.  Pour into moulds, and stand upon the ice.