The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1919-09-18

up his work sooner than usual, he
came, went into the kitchen and IN
earthed a cook book, in which he
found recipe that suited his purpose
So he donned an apron and pro-
eeeded 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 it 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 painstakingly picking off 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. 1t began to
sizZle, and he c1amped 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 it threatened to ex-
tinguish.
He turned the irons quickly, as the
directions admOnished him to do, and
lifted one and peered inside. There
was a waffle in the making, sure
enough, but it was sad specimen.
He left it a 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 mis- hands on his
hips. his face flecked 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-
dence and put only a small dab on the
iron. 1t 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 it and proceeded
to clean it. In the meantime the bat
ter he had left on the other half of
the apparatus burned to a crisp.
Dale ran his hands through his hair
in desperation, leaving blotches of yell
low on his black locks.
whats going On?' inquired q voice,
end he saw his wife standing in the
door, a perplexed look on her face.
''Im trying to make waffles,' he ex-
! plained. 1--WE kept it a dark secret
from you, but I'm just desperate to eat
g good waffle"
She chased him from the kitchen.
$50 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
Few 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
making. With trepidation he bit into
it, after spreading it with butter and
strip.
Finer he cried, as he slowly swal-
lowed the morsel. That's the best
waffle I 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.
"Trepeat 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 1 used to make them,
| ho +old him