Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-09-14
Making a salad dressing"

to dinner"
1.-The F. CO"
Don't call names, Johnny"
II suppose you aren't going to have salt fish
for dinner"
| NO"
"How bully! Wish he'd come every Friday"
| Il don't" said Louise.
II say, Cousin Louise" said Johnny, per-
suasively, could you mend a fellows jacket?
| l tore it on the hay cart"
| Il can't possibly mend it."
But it's mostly all hole. I'm afraid the F..
| {. wouldn't approve of it,"
PUT on your other jacket. then"
You forget. Cousin Louise, the other one
has gone up the spout"
| Go to bed. then" she said, desperately.
| But, Cousin Louise, want to see the F. c.
| Please, please do mend my jacket"
| II will, If l have time, Johnny" his cousin
| returned, patiently. She had time; she always
| had time for everything. and as a reward she
was given more and more of the work of the
household. She did not mind generally. for
| she was young and strong and very fond of the
children, who thought her trump" only she
had wlstfully hoped that she might have holi-
day when Ralph Matthews came to East Brad
| held. However. it did not matter. she said to
herself, as he had evidently come to see her
| uncle and aunt. She repeated this phrase over
and over to herself throughout dinner. He
was placed at her aunt's right hand and she
was on the opposite side of the table.
| The children were very good throughout the
nrst course. They were awed by the presence
OF the stranger, who, however, talked SO charm
ingly that by the second course they found
there was nothing awe-inspiring in him, after
| ALL Consequently they grew confidential.
we don have chops and tomato sauce every
FRIDAY, Grace remarked, sweetly.
| Grace. YOU mustn't say such things" said
her sister Susie in loud whisper
We're going to have salad presently"
Johnny added I'm real glad YOU came. he
continued, socially. Il asked Cousin Louise if
she didn't wish you'd come every Friday and
| she said no."
| Johnny, said his mother in Mortified accents,
you must not tell such stories.'
| ''But it isn't story; it's true. Ask Cousin
Louise. suppose its because she had SO much
| trouble making the salad dressing"
Poor Louise was the color of a red peony.
| She was too disturbed to laugh and could not
even speak. her tongue seemed to cleave to the
roof of her mouth There was an awful pause
for a moment
Mr.. Matthews broke it at last. ''You were
speaking of the village mir in Russia" he said,
| turning to his host; lit is curious the way in
which that relic of the middle ages has sur
vlved all these years."
'How clever be ISL thought Louise who had
never heard or the village mir in Russia; land
how eloquent and eager he has made my unclei
He has the power OF drawing every one out. L
was fool to fancy he liked me particularly.
He could never care for such an ignoramus,
my true colors now"
Louise's aunt sat erect at the head OF the
table, serene IN the consciousness that her
dinner was most appetlzing. 1t was unfor
tunate that the children should have made
those malapropos remarks; but at least Mr..
Matthews would see that if they did not have
such dainty meals every day they knew how
| things should be done. The bisque soup
delicious, the chops cooked to a turn and the
salad dream of delight. There was a long
pause after this course. during which Mrs.
Henderson nervously wondered what had hap
pened to Mrs. Osgood's orange cake, and
whether Nora was waiting to pick the rasp-
| berries.
At last the recreant maid appeared bearing
| huge pie. which she placed solemnly before
her mistress, who looked at it in speeches.
wonder. Where did it come from and what
| were its contents? Could anything show
| greater vulgarity Of breeding than this unex-
pected but all too substantial apparition? Be-
| fore she had recovered from her surprise Nora
placed a large ham in front of Mr.. Henderson
| 1t was all clear to poor Mrs. Henderson now
| The neighbors, in the kindness of their hearts
| had sent over these supplements to the feast,
and Nora, knowing that her mistress was
ambitious to have many courses, had brought
| them In on her own responsibility.
| Mrs. Henderson, who never was able to turn
| things off with joke, asked her guest if he
would have some meat pie, with the feelings of
| a criminal at the stake.
| l. Killed
| the fatted calf sure this time
To add to her confusion her husband glanced
| across at her and said: Did you mean to have
| this ham cut, Nary"
| After they had partaken of the raspberries
and coffee Mrs. Henderson was about to rise
| from the table, when Nora went to her with a
warning shake of the head.
Not yet" she said, in loud whisper:
! there's four more courses a-settin in the pam
try"
;.oh, golly! Let's have 'em ALL" cried
Mrs. Henderson ignored the observations of
her maid and her son. She drew her small
figure up to its full height and looked almost
majestic.
Il think perhaps we shall find it pleasanter
in the other ROOM she said. with all the grace
and dignity at her command
1T Is four O'Clock" said her husband, taking
out his watch. "How the afternoon has gomez
"Only an hour and half before Mr..
Matthews train goes" thought Louise.
The Henderson parlor, to which they ad-
journed, was quaint room, with the atmos-
phere of a former generation lingering about
its carved chairs and claw-footed tables. The
green carpet, with its huge punches of gay
flowers, had been somewhat softened by Per-
sian rugs, but the stiff portraits which looked
down on one from the walls. and the square
six-octaved piano, remained uncompromis-
ingly old-fashioned. There were vases and
bowls of roses on the tables and piano, and a
general fragrance as II the room were rose
garden.
Louise ensconced herself on the sofa behind
table, with a child on either side of her, and
having fortified herself in this impregnable
position, she wondered that Ralph Matthews
did not come and talk to her.
Louise" said her aunt at last, 81 wish you
would sing something"
"Yes," assented her uncle: "'Duke Street.
or Come. Ye Disconsolate.'
"Oh, not hymn tunes ON a week day, Uncle
Henry; l should feel positively sacrilegious"
AS Louise struck the first chords of I've Banks
and Braes Of Bonny Doom" she nervously real
lied how much the piano was out of tune, and
the thin, poor quality of the notes. In the pres
ence Of this stranger, who lived on terms of in
timacy with grand pianos, her much-loved in
strument shrank into insignifcance.
She did not know how charming she looked
in her lilac gown, with the huge bowl of white
roses at her right and the light from the win
dow at her left family struggling through the
half-closed blinds. Everything was complete
about Louise, from her pretty head. with its
smooth, compact crown of brown braids, to her
trim little figure in the simple but scrupulously
neat dress. There were many girls far more
beautiful than she, but of her kind she was per-
feet, and one no more thought of finding fault
with her lack of color. or with the shape of her
mouth, than of quarreling with the violet for
being of different color and shape from the
rose. One might prefer roses, but that was
different matter.
Now, surely, surely he will come to the
piano and turn my music for me-" she thought.
r.