The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1897-11-23

GO0Y0W
Ahl but che was beautiful
Eyes OF deepest violet and O com.
plexi0n for all the like that rose they
call white, but which has eveR and al
ways q flush OF pink On its delicate
petals.
But could she CoOk3
By various devices I sought to die
cover this. I stayed 10 dinner ct the
smallest ~prOvocation. She cut the
bread IsaW her, and it tasted better
for the knowledge. She laid the cloth
she disappeared into the kitchen,
where I fancied she was making deli
cious doughnuts and desserts, but
when I remembered that Bridget and
Mrs. Thompkins were also engaged
therein I hesitated and doubted.
'Can you cook, Miss ThompsonH" I
asked, as she came in with @ plate Of
pickles.
She burst out laughing. "What a
question: Can / cookl What do you
think of that, papa3" she cried, turn
ing TO the old man who sat rocking
himself backward and forward and
tanning himself with his hat. "Ain't
that queer question:" And the old
man evidently thought it was, for he
roared as if / had thrown him down
and was tickling him into commissions,
now and then gasping, "Can she cook
Oa--r
got as red as q lobster, but held my
sides and pretended TO be nearly dead
with laughing myself.
But one day there came an opportu
nifty. Thomson and his wife were
called over to Blinksville by the dan
illness Of their eldest son. They
had to take Bridget along for q nurse.
It left nobody at home but Lucy and
her grandmother, who was confined to
easy chair with rheumatism.
''I've got her now" l said to myself.
''I1l go over to supper and thatu settle
the question" I rode over about three
o'clock. Lucy was wedding a flower
bed and / helped her. kept limiting
round about supper, but she didn't
take.
''She can't cook for shucks," l men.
said, ''or she'd tell me to stay.
But I'll put her 20 the test" So I pulled
out my watch, and Isay: swell, Lucy,
I guess I'll have to be goingI I'm
afraid I'll miss my supper noW before
I can get home"
I'D ask you to stay here" she said,
''but really we haven't anything in the
house 6t to eat"
"Oh, / don't mind" I exclaimed,
anything will debut I stopped, for
she interrupted me by telling me to
come next evening, and before I could
say any more she had started me of,
me to be on hand at five o'clock
so as not to let the supper get
cold.
AS I was going up the walk the fol.
day, dressed in my best, and
resolved to propose that evening if the
cooking was even passable, I saw Susan
Ssf ord come out the back door and
scudding down the path. She was a
girl my mother had often recommen.
ded-the best cook in the neighbor
hood, but homelier than the law al
lows:
"Hello, Susanp I Exclaimed; "where
are you going9"
"Homei' she said. 81 just dropped
in for a visit, but 1 find Lucy too busy
ready for company for me to
1.-The dear girlr' I said to myself, r.
to Lucy, ''She's in that kitchen
just wading into cookery" and I fiat.
tered myself that the thing WRs about
Well, the supper was tout of sight"
the boys say. I will not attempt to
describe that fried chicken, those bak
ing powder biscuits, that golden but
ter, that marmalade, honey, ETC., etc.
5ueen Stafford herself could not have
beaten it. ] proposed to Lucy in thirty
minutes after, and was accepted.
Two months later we we on our way
home from the wedding journey.
~ want to get back, my dear" said,
where 1 a get n MOI of your sup
pers again. I have never had a meal
that could hold a candle to that one
you cooked for me the night I pro.
She laughed rather queerly.
You liked it, did youG" she asked.
Liked it," I rejoined Let me tell
you the truth. I had not made up my