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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 4 (July 1, 1937)

American Cloth

American Cloth.

Any little hint which points the way to labour-saving is worth taking note of. So I thought as I looked rather closely at the window ledge in Mirabelle's mother's kitchen. Yes, I admit that I'm not keen on Mirabelle's mother, but I can put up with a little of her society for the sake of Mirabelle. Mirabelle is a sweet child. Some day some strong-minded friend (I'm afraid it won't be me), or more likely a young man, is going to get her right out from under her mother's thumb. And then Mirabelle won't be a “sweet child” any longer, but a “personality.”

However, about the kitchen. Mirabelle either inherits, or slavishly imitates, her mother's house-keeping abilities. One foible of the household is the application of paint or varnish to any surface that seems to be needing it. I didn't know woodwork deteriorated so rapidly, but, judging by the frequent “wet paint” smell in that house, it does. Incidentally, I don't blame Mirabelle's father for disappearing when the paint-brush starts.

On my last visit, Mirabelle had been putting yet another coat of enamel on the window-ledge above the kitchen sink. (“Water will splash, no matter how careful you are.“) Now she was busy with American cloth. I'll tell you her idea. The cloth is carefully cut to fit the ledge with an overhang on the outside and sufficient on the inside to turn under the ledge. Instead of using tacks or drawing pins, which rust, Mirabelle was fixing the cloth in position with small strips of sticking-plaster here and there.

Quite a good idea, I think. If I hadn't glass on the window-ledge in my, bathroom, I would certainly have American cloth. I have it in all my kitchen cupboards, and I think I'll use Mirabelle's idea of sticking-plaster to prevent it shifting position.