Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-02-19

!.
I'M II will you pass me
+R3ND mn ~ the pple sauce.
nHU SAG and another b :
E6 "a cult. you break the
IA record on biscuit !,
ISRH HIN ~ and mighty SEN
HUH Hill - siple h ng o
I.ItJl ~ 81 George Archer to
AxT H~ have her 6 h t
hous excepting. II
any one can do il. Sis Bee ~, it's you
you and Linda All girls ought TO learn
to cook, oughtn't they. Harvey?
Well that seems TO bc the general
opinion"
The young man addressed was devotlnS
himself with intense interest TO a saucer
Of luscious golden peaches drenched with
rich cream. Having dispatched the same
he resumed the subject.
Won't it be a bit hard on the poor lit
tie girl Just out OF school, | under
stood, TO pen her up in kitchen ana
make her learn to boil potatoes?"
she needn't be prisoner; and IL S
quite essential for a girl to know how 10
cook" Miss Rebecca looked a trifie grim,
as she spoke
Sure" agreed her brother, these girls
are apt TO be TOO frivolous and frisky. and
tie
Dear little beings muttere,. Harvey.
hate to see them tone down too soon
Cooking is a very useful accomplishment.
no doubt; but this little Bonnibell-I
can't help fancying it would be like set
ting a daisy to tussle with the cooking
stove TO put her in the kitchen
..AH nonsense my boy" returned the
elder man, passing his great china cup to
his sister for more coffee, do her good.
and won't hurt her a bit: and her father,
my old friend, Judge Archer, wants her
TO learn"
1t was late summer afternoon. Ac-
cording TO favorite custom of the
Granger family, the supper table was
spread out of doors. at the back of the
kitchen, just under a monster apple tree.
whose great boughs screened away the
red arrows the lowering sun was sending
down the long orchard aisles, as 1t drop
ped into the smoky shadows.
Well might Old SOL If he were hungry.
stay his departure to gaze with envious
eye at that country supper table. with its
big dusk loaf that smelt of home and
brown-crusted biscuit; its platter of rudy
nam; crimson sliced tomatoes cool from
the springhouse: crisp. curled. late let
tuce; dishes of cottage cheese like bill
lows of snow, dashed with sweet cream
and busted with pepper. besides other
luxuries of prosperous farm.
xH
At the head of the table sat Miss Re-
becca Granger. neat. prim sp.nster of
forty. Opposite doomed the substantial
form of 1er brother Phil, thrifty farmer
Of h irty- hQ 0f nd
hearty, to whom might be applied the de-
scription of Harry Gill. the dusty drover.''
in the old poem:
His cheeks were red as the rudy clover;
His voice was like the voice of three
Midway between the two, on one side of
the table. sat their niece. Linda Granger.
comely maiden of twenty-five. with
brown hair and eyes, brilliant color IN
her chez xs and a bit of wholesome tan
on her face and hands. On the other side
sat Harvey Morton, handsome summer
boarder who, from natural love of farm
life. insisted upon helping his host with
his farm work. 10 such an extent that the
latter declared he was good and better
than most hired men and in reality should
he exacting wages rather than paying
board. But the young man protested that
the wonderful benefit to his health and 4
consequent voracious appetite amply bal
anced accounts.
Just now he watching Linda cut
through the amber crust of a square
peach cobbler baked in a breadpan. She
had manufactured II with her own deft
brown hands. and fl fairly bulged with
late Crawford peaches, yellow and fra
grant and sweet. while the crust was a
wonder of lightness and richness. In
Harvey's interest over the, operation of
dividing the cobbler into generous sec
tons. he lost sight of his hosts last re-
mark entirely. and pursued the subject
no further: but there was the suspicion
of disdainful smile about the corners IF
Linda's lips. and her honest nose tilted
itself the least bit, at the ecstatic express
sion that overspread the young mans face
as he dispatched the block of luscious
ness, submerged with Jersey cream.
When she carried the great coffee pot
into the kitchen for repienishing a few
minutes later. 1 am afraid that she set
the unoffending utensil upon the stove
with rather unnecessary emphasis.
You're consistent mortal, Mr.. Harvey
Morton" she observed sarcastically. look
figure lettering in the orchard. enjoying
the luxury of twilight smoke. but it s
nothing TO me-" in which statement, / am
sorry TO say. Miss Linda told fib.
-.
Bonnibell Archer stood in the big airy
farmhouse kitchen. looking about her in
some bewiiderment at the array of kettles
and pans and the general paraphernalia
of the ample cuisine. She was a slim
dainty creature. with family pink cheeks.
scft eyes and golden-brown hair coiled
about her elegant little head 1t was
plainly evident that the young lady's in
itiation into the kitchen lore was about +,
commence.
But. my dear child expostulated Miss
Becky. surveying with dismay the beruf
fed rose-colored silk-ginsham tea gown
and the bit of white lawn apron the city
maiden wore. haven't you anything more
suitable for kitchen work than that cob
web thing"
Mss Archer sighed apologeticallv
Linda wrote me TO bring some gingham
morning dresses. and some aprons" she
murnured. and I thought this and my
blue zephyr and white aprons would do
very nicely I'm afraid / haven't any