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the kitchen windows. This made the room so dark that it was doubtless that fact which induced Mrs. Lincoln to have it abandoned. She selected the two smaller rooms at the northwest end of the basement, which have ever since been used as the Executive kitchens. Abigail Adams's kitchen became a lumberroom, but remained intact with its old fireplace and brick ovens until Mr. McKim's renovation of the White House three years ago. Then they were swept away in the general changes that took place, and the heating apparatus of the mansion was put in where the time-honored kitchen had stood. Under the peculiar conditions which prevail in connection with the White House, whereby many of its domestic affairs are governed by political appointment, and its expenses supervised by the Bureau of Public Buildings and Grounds, the management of the lower part of the house has always been largely in the hands of a steward. It was doubtless due to this fact that Mrs. Harrison found the
kitchens in a most undesirable condition when she became the mistress there. The wooden floors and walls were sunken and rotted. She had all of the woodwork removed and the cement floor and tiled walls put in which now make the kitchens so attractive. Even this, however, did not do away with certain unsanitary conditions, but during Colonel Theodore Bingham's incumbency as Superintendent of Public Buildings and Grounds he had the entire sewerage system of the basement taken out and replaced with a thoroughly modern one. For these reasons the kitchens underwent but little change when the house was remodelled three years ago. The larger of the two kitchens is forty feet long by twenty-five wide, with two immense windows of ground glass almost filling the north side of it. This room is directly underneath the family dining-room. On the north side of it is the mammoth hooded range on which the cooking is done for the state dinners. Just beyond it is the hot-water
THE LARGE KITCHEN WITH THE tank, holding almost a hogshead of water, and the sink at which all the dishes are washed after the state dinners—a quantity of dishes any housewife will appreciate when she thinks of the ninety guests who are entertained at one of these functions. On the opposite side of the kitchen are cupboards reaching from the ceiling to the floor, the dish-compartments with glass doors and the lower parts consisting of drawers and enclosed shelves. Two long tables stand in this room; one at which the servants have their meals—and which is set for that purpose in our illustration—while the other is a plain deal table that might be found in the kitchen of any well-to-do laboring-man. That the President’s family is fond of a good hash is attested by the size of the meat-chopping machine shown in another illustration. An interesting feature of this room is a large circular swing which is suspended from the ceiling over the tables. From it hang cooking utensils, brass kettles, pots, and pans, as bright as scouring can make them.
TABLE SET FOR THE SERVANTS.
Leading out from this room on the west is the family kitchen. It is much smaller than the other. It is furnished similarly, but its range, cupboard, and tables are of smaller patterm than those in the larger kitchen. In the wall between these two rooms are two electric many-shelved dumb-waiters which run from the kitchen to the butler's pantry on the floor above, and from there to the china-closet in the gallery of the butler's pantry. This gallery was one of Mr. McKim's happy devices for increasing space in the old mansion. Its lack of room was one of the most serious defects of the White House, and was felt as keenly in the culinary department as in any other portion of the house. To meet this deficiency Mr. McKim built a gallery encircling the upper part of the butler's pantry. All around this gallery are glass - covered shelves, and at both ends of it are deep shelved closets. The entire gallery, closets and shelves, is made of iron and is fire-proof. Here the choicest and most historic of the Presidential china and cut glass is kept. The
IN THE SMALLER RITCHEN.
gallery is reached by a flight of very narrow spiral stairs from the floor of the butler's pantry. Just across the hall from the kitchens is the White House refrigerator. It is really a good-sized room built into one end of the wide hall which runs the length of the basement east and west. It was constructed on the plan of the cold-storage, or refrigerator, cars. Its temperature can be reduced to any desired degree. It is made with shelves and compartments which easily hold all the perishable foods required for the household. It opens into the steward’s room and is under his immediate supervision, as are all other provisions, linen, china, glass, and plate of the house.
ANOTHER VIEW IN
The steward is an important official of the President's household. He receives his appointment directly from the Chief Executive and must give a bond of $1800 for the faithful performance of his duty. He must be responsible for all the invaluable ware belonging to the Executive Mansion. If a dish of the Presidential china or glass is broken the pieces of it must be brought to him, and the breakage reported by him to the Superintendent of Buildings and Grounds. If a piece of silver is missing it must be reported in the same manner. When any of the linen wears out (all of which is marked with the large embroidered letters U. S.), each article must be brought to the steward, who passes upon it before it is discarded. He has the management of the servants in the lower part of the house, and is purveyor for the President's table. The steward's position is a responsible one in many other ways, and requires much discretion. President Roosevelt is fortunate in his steward, who is a small light-colored mulatto. He is very quiet and unassuming in manner, but thoroughly trustworthy. Every morning he goes to the markets, and the way in which he conducts these expeditions would do credit to a diplomatist. It is one of the unwritten laws of the White House that no capital must be made by any one from the fact of the patronage of the President of the United States. Every one who has been in London is familiar with the notices that ap
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pear in many of the shops over there, announcing that the King or some member of his family patronizes the place. Nothing of the kind can be found in Washington. The steward of the White House goes each morning to certain markets or stores, and does the required purchasing, but in so quiet a manner that the man buying next to him would never guess his errand unless he chanced to know him. The majority of the purchases are even sent to the White House in an unlettered wagon. This wagon comes in at the south entrance and drives through the west colonnade to the kitchen door, where it stands in the illustration. Any passer-by looking over the railing could see it, but he would never be able to guess from anything about its appearance what grocery house or market the food which it contains came from. CHAPTER XXX
ND once again the woman conquered. Whatever Eve's intentions were, whatever she wished to evade or ward off, she was successful in gaining her end. For more than two Loder at her side. There may have been moments in those two hours when the tension was high, when the efforts she made to interest and hold him were somewhat strained. But if this was so it escaped the notice of the one person concerned; for it was long after tea had been served, long after Eve had offered to do penance for her monopoly of him by driving him to Chilcote's club, that Loder realized with any degree of distinctness that it was she and not he who had taken the lead in the interview. That it was she and not he who had bridged the difficult silences and given a fresh direction to dangerous channels of talk. It was long before he recognized this; but it was still longer before he realized the far more potent fact that, without any coldness, any lessening of the subtle consideration she always showed him, she had given him no further opportunity of making love. Talking continuously, elated with the sense of conflict still to come, Loder drove with her to the club. Considering that drive in the light of after events, his own frame of mind invariably filled him with incredulity. In the eyes of any sane man his position was not worth an hour's purchase; yet in the blind self-confidence of the moment he would not have changed places with Fraide himself. The great song of Self was sounding in Vol. xxxviii.
his ears as he drove through the crowded streets, conscious of the cool, crisp air, of Eve's close presence, of the numberless infinitesimal things that went to make up the value of life. It was this acknowledgment of personality that upheld him; the personality, the power that had carried him unswervingly through eleven colorless years, that had impelled him towards this new career when the new career had first been opened to him, that had hewn a way for him in this fresh existence against colossal odds—the indomitable force that had trampled out Chilcote's footmarks in public life, in private life—in love. It was a triumphant paean that clamored in his ears, something persistent and prophetic with an undernote of menace. The cry of the human soul that has dared to stand alone. His glance was keen and bright as he stood for a moment at the carriage door and took Eve's hand before entering the club. “You’re dining out to-night?” he said. His fingers, always tenacious and masterful, continued to hold hers. The compunction that had driven him temporarily towards sacrifice had passed. His pride, his confidence, and with them his desire, had flowed back in full measure. Eve, watching him attentively, paled a little. “Yes,” she said, “I’m dining with the Bramfells.” “What time will you get home?” He scarcely realized why he put the question. The song of Self still sounded triumphantly, and he responded without reflection. His eyes held hers, his fingers pressed her hand; the intense mastery of his will passed through her in a sudden sense of fear. Her