Catoctin clarion., 1917-08-16
THE RECIPE LADY
BY JANE OSBORN.

| best seller. But now, enscOnced In
her very own little studio apartment in
dingy New York side street. she
considered herself quite fortunate
when she kept the pot boiling by writ
ing anything at all.
After the rejection of that first play
of hers, the ambitious Mardy had
taken one reef after another in her
sails. Still she chose to sail her own
little craft in her own way and she
had not been completely discouraged.
In spite Of the two years Of uphill
work Mardy had spent in the big city
she had something of the old-time reti-
cence Of well-bred women Of her class
against permitting the publication of
her photograph. She didn't quite like
the idea of appearing morning after
morning in some Western paper as the
originator of countless ways of making
cakes, mullins, stews and puddings, the
| like of which she had not even tasted
for many a moon. But STILL" reflect
ed Mardy as she sat before her desk
in the apartment, II really am that
recipe lady,"
So Mardy went forth to the photog-
rapher's one day and sat for her pic
| ture, and with the usual misgivings
and hopefulness she waited the finish
ing of the proof.
Mardy gave one last lingering look
at the proofs and then quite dellber-
ately tore them In two. "Let me have
the bill and then destroy the proofs"
she said. THAT picture won't do. I'll
have to buy picture Of girl that
does look as if she wrote recipes"
So it was that the picture that ap-
peared with Mardy's daily talks on
matters culinary was that of calm
eyed, young housekeeper, and the read
ers were delighted.
Then the editor man told Mardy
that he was going to New York on
business and would call at her "office,"
and from time to time on the day that
the editor was coming Mardy spent
minutes trying to remove the home
touches from the little workrOom
where she ground out her copy. She
really didnts want the man whose
friendship she had won through her
letters to know that those rooms were
all that she knew Of home. The recipe
lady, Of course, must have a home and
kitchen, or how would she know so
much about cooking?
But even when the editor knocked
the old brass knocker that Mardy had
fastened to her studio door, Mardy had
not quite decided how she would ex.
plain about the picture. She trusted
that she would not mind making the
explanation when she saw him. Ii
the attachment that he had told her in
his letters he felt for her depended on
the picture, rather than on her clever
letters, what was she to do? She know
that she was prettier than that pic
ture, but perhaps 1t was just that type
of face that had attracted him.
But before the first ten minutes Of
the call, during which Mardy felt that
she had been becoming reacquainted
with her best friend-for such the
writer of the letters seemed to her
Mardy forgot the picture. Then she
caught the keen eyes Of the man study
ing her face. She knew 1t was time
for an explanation.
"You see, I suppose, that that pic
ture is fake" she confessed. II don't
look like 1t at ALL do l? had my pic
ture taken especially for you" she
said, "but 1t didn't look the part"
"No," he said; "you don't exactly
look like the staid young housewife Of
the picture. You're not that type, ex-
actly. But where did you get the pic-
ture that you did send?"
"I had to get something" Mardy be-
gan her confession. $50 I asked the
photographer to get picture that did
look the part. He had hundred or
so pictures-some Of them Of profess
sional models and others pictures OF
paintings they had photographed. He
said there was no copyright on the
one I decided to take, so didn't hesi-
tate"
"No, 1t wasn't copyrighted" said the
man. "You see painted that picture.
l used to dabble in that sort Of thing,
you know. That was then to me pic
ture of the ideal I had never met-a
housewifely sort Of girl that thought
only Of her own home. She was still
my ideal when you sent copy of that
picture to 60 with the talks l sup
pose the photographers got the photo.l
graph at the time my picture was
hung. Some Of the papers wanted 1T.
1t took prize or something at an ex-J
hibit, believe"
"And 1t is still your ideal?" asked
Mardy. "Tm sorry that appropriated
it-very sorry"
"No, 1t isn't now," exclaimed the
man, "for since I have known you in
the letters and since have seen you
here have found new ideal-a wom-
an that has as many ambitions and as
many disappointments as man might
not that complacent, Snug little
housewife-though my ideal could do
| all that sort of thing, too, II she had
to. But she has more spirit. Don't
YOU understand Dear little recipe
lady, you are my ideal, and came on
from the West to find you. I knew
you so we'll from those letters"
And the little recipe lady, because
1t was so long since she had had some
one to trust, buried her little head in
the arms that were Outstretched to
her. and whispered her answer to the
| question that he asked her.
Copyright, 1917, by the Mcclure Newspa-
psr eyndicsts9