Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1894-02-22

knife two or three "zip-zltfs," on the
range-pipe in place of steel, and fell
to pairing the potatoes with wondrous
care and zest; and Dot set the kettle
singing, sliced the bread into dainty
squares, got ready drawing of tea, and
began bravely hacking the steak with
the potato masher.
at seems to me, Dot" resumed poor
Dick Hardy, still temporizing, ait seems
to me that just about one-third of the
earth's products are wasted. Now, if
you will observe the practical economy
evidenced by the manner in which am
pairing these potatoes"
"Diek, I've got plan !"
Dot had closed the kitchen door softly
and was looking fondly and compass
sionately at her husband.
~ know all about 1t, poor fellow No
good news. You don't want to say it:
and you're just talking against time,
Dick. We might as we'll own up to each
other, migbtn't wep We've--we've just
got to the very end, Dick?"
II should rather think we had, Dot"
he admitted soemnly, looking hard and
digging vigorously at the eye of a potato,
ito the end, Dot, with the ID pulled out
of it, besidesw
eve sent the dining room carpet out
to be cleaned six weeks ago."
"Right you are, Dot"
"And the chiffonier TO be 'mended,'
five weeks ago, Dick?"
"Just five weeks, yesterday"
sand the parlor table to have the
marble top polished four weeks ago
tomorrow ~
"You always were immense on dates
and figures, Dot"
"And the mantel clock to be ire
paired the next week; ard your easy
chair and bookcase to your new office
last Saturday ?"
Richard Hardy stabbed potato DIES
perately and groaned outright.
Poor, poor Dick p she continued
tenderly. eve have done these things
together not only just to live through
these cruel, cruel times, but-and bles5
your noble heart for it, Dick Ito keep
those poor old childish mothers of ours
from knowing the real truth. Gracioua
me Those potatoes must 20 on in
stantly. I'll slice them fine, Dick, and
they'll be done in minute"
Something in Dicks eyes or upon his
glasses caused him again to employ the
corner of the kitchen towel vigorously.
The potatoes were soon a-humming.
| Dot filled the teapot with boiling water,
| ready for the drawing and the boiling
water again at the last moment. Then
the old-fashioned skillet, not now
tangled broiler, was over the glowing
Goals in a jitfy, with some butter kissing
around in its depths. She dextrously
twirled the skillet until the rich brown
bubbles eddied furiously, when the
steak was dropped within, whirled
round and round, and turned for ii
double soaring before the slower and
careful frying. Then the good little
helpmeet resumed:
"Tell inc, honest now, Dick, have you
| tried every possible means of selling
your splendid work? Did you see the
Ns6ner's Monthly folks?"
"Sure, Dot. Instead Of taking another
story, they begged so exluisitely to be
released from using two 'Accepteds,
that hadn't the heart to refuse them.'
"And the Metrop0litan?"
Treated me like princel Editor
wanted me to dine at the club with him.
But the moment l ventured to suggest
MS to. him, do you know he grabbed his
watch, reached for his hat and overcoat,
and gasping, Just five minutes to catch
the ferry, Hardyp he fed; fed, Dot,
entreating me to think over great
serial; to think it over hard-during my
next summers vacation !"
"But the Plcnthury, Dick? ?"
"Ah, Dot, Editor Burnisher is indeed
one of those who maintain that 'all
space is filled with matter His head
lay upon the desk as | entered. He
arose and approached me with, 'Ah,
Hardy, my dear boyp So glad to see
your FIe took my hand in both of his.
He led me softly to another room. We
paused before tremendous safe. AS It's
huge doors swung open, he pointed,
with averted head, to his pigeon holes
and their contents. Il do not know what
your feelings may be at such spectacle,
Mr.. Hardy he murmured, but you
may perhaps imagine mine hastily
withdrew. Even the eight-caret dia.
mond on his finger seemed dimmed with
tears, as Editor Burnisher waved me a
sympathetic adieu. Dot, what do you
think l saw on little placard hung
against the stuffed pigeon holes of that
itenttuiy safeY"
"Myl Dick, how can tellP"
She had put the steak upon a hot
platter and was now stirring the butter
and flour softly in the skillet-bottom fol
the gravy.
swell, Dot, twas just this:
Unused MSS. $4,000"
Dot thoughtfully stirred tho golden
brown gravy until it began to thicken
added another lump of butter and
pushed it back to let it simmer a little
Then, taking the plates from the warm.
ing oven to the dining room, she gave
the table few finishing touches; asked
Dick to mash the potatoes, which he did
with hearty vim, not forgetting splash
Of milk, a sprinkle Of salt and bit OF
butter; and, after putting on the draw.
ing Of tea, asked, this time a trifle
timidly:
"Dlck, what about the Sunday papers?'
"Great Scott !" exclaimed Dick hotly
furiously beating the potatoes almost to
a lather. snow, now, Dot-don't
Why little woman, don't you know thai
the Sunday newspapers are exclusively
for ads the Four Hundred, reprints
from the comics, and the female lingerie
reporters2 Whew +! Dish the potatoes;
do, Dot!"
She dextrously removed the creamy
stuff to tureen, whlsked the kettle
under the water-faucet, and innocently
and half sadly asked,
mo chance with the syndicates 2"
Dick was now smoothing his hair al
the kitchen glass and adjusting his cuffs
and collar. He looked at Dot long ant
thoughtfully. Then he FURNISHED his
glasses briskly with his handkerchief
set them squarely on his nose, tool
another good look at the little woman
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