Elsie was not an old housekeeper; but she was a girl of great executive ability, and she had a definite idea of what she must do. She took the shortest cut she saw as a means to that end. The two hired ladies obeyed her commands with silence, respect, and growing interest. Before three o’clock every dish was washed and draining, and Lizzie had started to dry them while her mother wiped off the pantry and china-closet shelves, washed the tables, and scrubbed the kitchen floor.

Elsie meanwhile had been clearing out the debris from the sideboard drawers and consigning it all to two pasteboard boxes in the storeroom. Then, when the drawers were wiped out, they were ready for the knives and forks; and it seemed as if there was a clean spot from which to start.

As soon as the dishes were in their places, Elsie set Lizzie and her mother to sweeping the worn rugs and oiling around the edges of the floor, the stairs and handrail. Then with a look of almost guiltiness she stole into the kitchen and began her pies. There were difficulties to overcome in the form of no molding-board and a misused rolling-pin with dents and creases all over it; but she managed to roll out three pretty creditable bottom crusts, and it took no time at all to mix the pumpkin, milk, eggs, sugar, spices, and molasses.

When she set the last pie triumphantly into the oven, she realized that she was tired enough to cry. Her hands were fairly trembling in their haste, and her heart was beating wildly with the amount she had yet to accomplish before six o’clock. She had set that hour because she knew that shortly after that, her father and brothers would arrive. She must have everything done by then, and be off. She felt now as if she were running a race. She ought to have telephoned Bettina that she was not going to that concert and let her give her ticket to someone else, but there was no time to think of that. She fled to the other room, and was delighted to find that her assistants had both finished their tasks and were now at the upper hall. The house smelled pleasantly of soap and cedar oil. She glanced uneasily out the front door. It was more than time for her order from the city to arrive. What if it should not come at all?

But she must not waste time thinking. She would get dinner ready as fast as possible before she had to open her parcels and dispose of their contents.

She selected the serving-dishes first, and set them in the warming-oven; it was the way her aunt had taught her at home. She washed the lettuce, prepared the tomatoes, and set them, along with three pretty plates, on the sideboard with the bottle of salad-oil. She filled the sugar-bowl and the salt and pepper cellars, opened her cans of corn and beans, washed her potatoes, and got the roast ready to be put into the oven; then the delivery-car arrived with the things, and everything had to be attended to at once. In the midst of opening her packages she almost forgot the roast; but, when it was safely in the oven, she hurried back to her bundles.

The women had finished the sweeping on the second floor, and were scouring the bathroom. She could hear their vigorous rubbings with sand soap on the sides of the bathtub and the old linoleum. She hurried the things out of their papers, rejoicing in their newness and whiteness. But there was no time to admire. Five minutes to a bed was all she had to spare. Could she do it?

She spread on the sheets and blanket, smoothed a white coverlet over her father’s bed, plumped the pillows into fresh cases, and tucked the pretty yellow sateen eider-down quilt in an artistic roll at the foot. What a difference it made! Then she seized one of the bureau-scarfs and whisked it upon the bureau. The room was a changed place.

With her heart swelling with pride and her arms filled with more sheets and blankets she went on to Eugene’s room, and wrought the same magic change there. By this time the two women were scrubbing the third-story stairs, and would soon be up to Jack’s room. She would wait to make up his bed and fix things till they came down.

She went down to the kitchen again, and found the pies gently simmering away, beginning to brown, and the roast sizzling contentedly.