Williams news., 1919-09-05

up his work sooner than usual, he came. went into the kitchen and un- earthed a cook book. in which he found Q recipe that suited his purpose. So he donned an apron and pro- ceeded to cover himself and a share of his surroundings with flour. milk and eggs. But somehow he managed to concoct yellow mass that looked as If 1t might do.
 In the drawer of the cupboard Dale found a small brush. and with this he smeared the waffle iron thoroughly with grease. The brush was an old one. however, and a number of the bristles played truant and stuck to the irons.
 After painstakingiy picking of the vagrant bristles, during which opera ton he burned two fingers, he took the pitcher and poured a heavy coat of batter on the lower iron. It began to sizzle, and he clamped the other iron down quickly. From between the two at once emerged a sticky mass that spread itself generously over the sides of the irons. finding its way into the gas flame, which 1t threatened to ex- tinguish.
 He turned the irons quickly. as the directions admonished him to do, and lifted one and peered inside. There was waffle in the making, sure enough. but it was a sad specimen. He left 1t moment. then essayed to turn it again, but in some manner the irons became separated and the half baked cake slid gracefully into the fire
 Dale stood with his hands on his hips. his face necked with batter and ragged. However, he was still deter mined. and as there was considerable batter left in the pitcher, he set to work again.
 This time he exercised more pru- iron. It proved to be enough to cover little more than one-quarter of the surface when it had been pressed out.
 He tried to add more, and while so doing he let the top iron fall to the floor, where it narrowly missed his foot. He recovered 1t and proceeded to clean it. In the meantime the bat ter he had left on the other half of the apparatus burned to crisp.
 Dale ran his hands through his hair in desperation, leaving blotches of yell low on his black locks.
 "What's going on?" inquired voice, and he saw his wife standing in the door, a perplexed look on her face.
 ''Tm trying to make waffles," he ex- plained. i've kept it 8 dark secret from you, but I'm just desperate to eat g good waffle"
 She chased him from the kitchen.
 ''Go and clean up," she ordered, land I'll try my hand at the business. But don't you dare come near. I'll have to straighten things up and make some Eew batter"
 Half an hour later Dale was called to dinner, and when he sat down at the table he found a nice, plump, brown, steaming waffle confronting him. while more were in process of With trepidation he bit into 1t. after spreading 1t with butter and sirup.
 "Fine !" he cried, as he slowly swal- lowed the morsel. That's the best waffle ever had"
 She smiled sweetly at him from the stove and turned the irons.
 "Of course, you'd have to say that" she said. "even if it killed you."
 He tried another mouthful, this time | with more confidence.
 'T repeat my assertion" he declared, | as he cut another piece for transfer to | his mouth. ''Where in the world, Jes- | sic, did you ever learn 1t? know of | only one other woman in the world | that can make them, and she used to | work at McSwenson's, back in my | home town"
 She was laughing.
 "That's where used to make them." she told him.