Mundane Missings

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 135, 29 August 1927, Page 5

Mundane Missings

White Lies

I am for ever reading about husbands who long for their wives to be economical in dress. I wish my husband was like that—well, ill a way. You see, I’ve never had much money, and I’ve always been keen on dress—in fact, it’s been my hobby ever since I can remember*. Well, a few months after we were married I saw a little frock in a side stret window marked 12s Gd. It was a pretty pink, and that is all some girls would have seen in it. But I saw lots more. I knew just what to do with it. I bought the frock, altered it, and put it on. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever had,” said Bob. “Twelve and six.” I replied triumphantly. “Oh!” said he, in a flat voice. “Surely you don’t think it’s too much?” “Oh, not too much.” “I can’t get dresses for absolutely nothing,” I thought rather crossly. I put it on again the following Saturday afternoon, when we were going to the Gardiners, and it really did look nice. And pink’s my colour! But Bob said in astonishment: “Wearing that?” “Yes—why?” “Oh, put on something decent.” “You said it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever had.” “I don’t say it’s not nice, but you don’t want to go about looking cheap.” “I don’t look cheap,” I said wrath - fully. “You said it was 12s 6d.” “It’s not 12s 6d now. Don’t you see?” He didn’t see. He laughed, and caught me in his arms. So of course I took it off. A week before my birthday I said: “Haven’t forgotten, have you?” “Your birthday? No. And 1 know what I’m getting you too. You are going to get a decent frock for once, and I don’t care what I spend.” It was a lovely frock, but it cost six guineas. Six guineas! I don’t say it wasn’t worth it, but I could have contrived it for so much less. I made my new evening frock myself. “Four guineas,” I said in answer to Bob’s inquiring look. “It looks it,” he said with a pleased smile. “You see my point, dear? Better a few things good than a lot of cheap junk.” “I see,” I said. Of course it had not cost me four guineas in cash, but I reckoned this way: Velvet/so much: time, labour and skill the rest* So I had not told a lie, really, though I let him believe what was not true. But you see my predicament. I deceive him, and though it’s to save his money that I do it, I’m not quite comfortable about it.

water Place pot in pan full of boiling water and keep over hot fire. Steep for five minutes. Settle with a dash of cold water. CARE OF A MANGLE A mangle is usually made so strongly that it rarely gets out of order. If it is to work smoothly, however, it must be overhauled at occasional intervals. Most women never think of oiling their mangle, and they admit that they “hate tampering with machinery.” This is the reason why .so many mangles emit agonising shrieks when used. Lift out the movable shelves. Remove all machine oil and dust from the cog-wheels by drawing rags (which have been dipped in paraffin) backwards and forwards, until all the parts are thoroughly cleansed. Wash the frame-work with soapy water and rinse with clear water. The rollers and shelves come in close contact with the clothing and should be cleaned very thoroughly. It is best to scrub them with warm water and soap, taking care to scrub the way of the grain of the wood. After rinsing, allow the mangle to dry, and lubricate the cogs with machine oil. The oil should be put into the holes made for the purpose, and care should be taken to prevent any from falling on to the rollers. After the mangle has been used, it should be covered with a cloth kept for the purpose, and the tension on the rollers should be lowered.