The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1877-12-27

1t don't agree with you. Aren't you |
glad you're going to have me for COM
pany, this afternoon? And hot din
ner, too? Hot dinners are luxuries
See here, will you2'' pull
ing from out his basket a round of
beef.
Uncle William eyed it gloomily.
"Beefsteak for New Years dinner p
muttered he. a rf be
"Beefsteak isn't to be despised-not
if it's tender and juicy as this, 7 replied
Joe, making an incision in the beef with
his pocket-knife, and watching the juice
start out with an expression Of keen
qualification.
" Not in our present situation, know
it, Joe; that's the sting Of 1T. I don't
blame you, Joe; but I can't help think
ing how it used to be with me. ? 9
Here Uncle William attempted NOV
ing one of bis limbs, hit his foot against
chairback, and cried out with pain.
Joe slapped his steak upon the table,
brought Uncle William his liniment,
and then pirouetted off into his bed
room-three minutes, and he was back
again, in suit the patches whereof at
tested the fact that he did his own mend
ing, as. well as cooking.
CHOW, we must have. dinner in
jiffy, uncle. Then I'm going to give the
room thorough cleaning up; and after
that, If Mrs. Dowd brings up the wash
ing, I'll sew up the holes in the stock
ings, while you read aloud"
You know [ can't read aloud, Joe 1T
puts me out of breath, snapped Uncle
William.
mo more you can't. How forgetful
in me Well talk, then, and have a
good time just the same"
Uncle William grunted derisively,
and fingered his swollen and bandaged
toes.
Joe shook down the ashes in his stove,
turned on a pile OF coal, brushed out
the oven and tumbled in a half dozen or
more potatoes. From suspicious-look
ing depths beneath the table he drew
forth a gridiron, which he began scrap
ing vigorously, meanwhile talking
briskly-whether to himself or Uncle
William it would have been difficult to
decide.
Its miserable way to leave a grid
iron, without cleaning; but what can a
fellow do who has as many irons in the
fire as [ have ?-breakfast to get and
clear away, rooms to tidy up, dinner to
be laid out, Mrs. Dowd's water to be
brought, Uncle Williams feet and legs
to be bound up, and may be run to
the druggists or the doctors. Hang it
I'll III no Oh
these little particulars as he'd like to be.
He must once in while neglect his
gridirons. ~
Joe soon had his steak sputtering on
the iron, it's grateful odor mingling
with that of the coffee on the stove, and
overpowering the perfume of Uncle
Williams liniment. He then jerked the
table few inches from the wall, spread
over it stif1y-starched and highly-blued
"best" tablecloth, set on the dishes
spasmodically, and, just as the little
mantel-elock rang out IL, he announced
dinner, and offered to assist Uncle
William to the table.
The process Of getting Uncle William
to the table in good order was no mean
one. First, the two chairs in which his
limbs reposed were one after the other
moved slight distance; the large chair
in which he sat followed them carefully;
then the small chairs made another for
ward move, and by degrees the entire
establishment was brought alongside
| the table.
cts all piping hot, and I've had
splendid luck with the gravy p cried
Joe, sitting down and helping Uncle
William with a liberal hand.
"Joe,' said Uncle William, peevishly,
"I amt up near enough"
Joe hoped up, and drew the three
chairs gently, one after another, an inch
or two nearer the table, then bobbed
down il his place again.
"You'l take two potatoes, think,
Uncle William, and"
"Joe," interrupted Uncle William,
"won't you just hist up those pillows
at my back, and put the big one at the
bottom and the little one at the top ?"
"Dear me, uncle 70 cried Joe, flying
at the pillows. "How careless [ am !
It seems to me I never shall remember
about those pillows. You see I'm think
ing so much as to whether you'll like
the dinner or not the pillows slip my
mind.
"Joe, said Uncle William, as soon as
Joe was again seated, 81 wish you'd
just take that cushion out from under
my left leg and slip it around under the
right one"
Joe dropped his gravy-ladle and
whisked around to the cushion.
Careful, now-careful, Joe," said
Uncle William, dividing his attention
between Joe and the forkful he was
making up. CHOW, under the other
one-not SO high up-a little lower down
oh, dear Can't you get it right =?
There, nowl And won't you just wrap
that corner Of the shawl around them
again?"
Back came Joe, and, not in the least
discouraged, began his dinner.
Uncle William, as he the second time
passed his plate. groaned CT can't