Middletown transcript., 1907-03-30
Aunt Adde'S Apple Tarts
BIZ WILLIAM LINCOLN BALCH

4
low warmth in the sunshine OF
bright November morning. Katy |
had unlocked the front door, !
taken in the morning paper,
brushed dining-room and stairs
in the dim gray Of dawn, and set
the table for breakfast. That
meal dispatched, Mr. Sloane and
Richard had departed for the
city, leaving Olney, the younger
son, briskly chasing q ball about
the tennis court. No more charm
ing villa lifted a pointed roof
among the bare branches that
morning in all Suburbia.
Static! cried Olney to his sis
ter, as she passed the sitting
room window, come out and play
a set-the sharp air will do you
good.
But Statira Sloane answered
only with hurried shake OF the
head. She was fastening at the
call Of her mother, whose sharp
tone eyinced not only the habit OF
command and the expectation OF
obedience, but an unusual lack OF
poise, even for the mistress OF a
household on the eve Of enter
tanning holiday guests.
Yes, mamma, coming! answered
the daughter. What is the mat
ter
She found Mrs. Sloane in con-
sultation with the cook, but not
in an amiable mood.
It is a triumph Of matter over
mind, complained her mother.
Mary has been cooking for
Thanksgiving for a week, and
vet when it comes to the simple
affair of to-day's luncheon, there S
nothing ready. That is-nothing
suitable. You know your father
is going to bring Uncle Chester
home with him for Thanksgiving?
Yes, but / don't see what diff
ference that makes. Why not
set just about such luncheon as
We usually have? Eggs, chops,
peas and fried potatoes, and hot
rolls. Then cut up peaches and
cake. That's easy, and good
enough, even if papa brings home
a British duke.
It won't dove must have
pastry.
Nonsense, mamma Pastry
at luncheon is horribly bad form!
You don't understand. Your
Uncle Chester was born in the
pie belt and brought up on pie.
He had pie for breakfast, pie for
dinner and pie for supper.
Oh, well, I still see no difficulty.
The pantry is packed with full
grown Thanksgiving pies Of all
denominations.
That's it-they're all full
grown. Even if it must be pie,
one wants something dainty and
delicate for luncheon. Some
thing
I see! Something like those
delicious little apple tarts they
have at the Woman's Educational
and Industrial Union.
Just the thing exclaimed Mrs.
Sloane, with an air of relief. Al
though they're not tart at all
they're quite sweet.
But it's English to call them
"torts," you know.
But her mother was busy ques-
tioning Katy !:
Have you washed the china,
silver and glass ?
Yes, ma am.
And filed the lamps
Yes, ma'am.
Then I think I'll have you run
into town and
No, mamma, interrupted Sta
tira. Let me 60. The Union
will have just loads of the love-
iest delicacies the day before
Thanksgiving, and besides the
tarts I'll get two or three loaves
of the cake with different kinds
of frosting-chocolate, pistache
and that perfectly exquisite car
amel.
Knowing her daughters good
taste, the mother assented, and
considered her difficulties dis
posed of.
You haven't seen your uncle
since you were a little tot. and
you don't know his peculiarities
nor how desirable it is to please
him, she added, somewhat apol-
ogetically, Statira thought.
I can remember him very well
"a tall, dark, handsome man.
And I understood more, perhaps,
than you thought, about his hav-
ing had some unfortunate affair
of the heart.
Did you, really ? Mrs. Sloane
ctorad or fhic rnxyaI,t;o, 80 Az