The Cody enterprise and the Park County enterprise., August 16, 1922, Page PAGE SIX, Image 6

About The Cody enterprise and the Park County enterprise. (Cody, Wyo.) 1921-1923

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PAGE SIX
HARRIET
and the
PIPER
‘By
Kathleen Norris
Illustrations by
Irwin Myers
Copyright by Kathleen Norris
CHAPTER XVI.
——l6
After that life took on a mysterious
fragrance and beauty that made every
hour of It an intoxication to the mas
ter and mistress of Crownlands. The
fact that their secret was all their own
was all the more enchanting. To the
domestic staff, to the children, to the
outside world, life went upon Its usual
smooth way. Mr. Carter would be In
town tonight, Mr. Carter was detained
nt the office, Mrs. Carter was chaperon
ing the young people, there were flow
ers for Mrs. Carter. That was all Bot
tomley and Pilgrim and Ward and Ni
na saw.
But to Harriet and Richard the de
licious, secret game of hlde-and-go-seek
made everything else In the world in
significant. Harriet opened the boxes
of flowers he sent her with a heart suf
focating with joy. Richard consented
to be absent from the dinner table
over which she presided with an ag
ony of renunciation that almost made
him feel ill. When he chanced one day
to meet her with -Nina, in a breezy,
awnlnged summer restaurant, the
sight of the slender figure thrilled him
as he had never been thrilled by any
woman he had ever known. He was
to speak to her, to hear her voice! One
day he bought her shoes; in the shop
she looked at him for approval. He
thought the shoes, low shoes with
buckles, that showed the silk-clad an
kle, very suitable and pretty. He was
thrown into sudden confusion when
the shoe clerk turned to him with a
murmured mention of the price.
Ten dollars? Richard fumbled for
his purse. He had met her walking
alone In the Avenue; she had said that
she must get shoes. Hundreds of other
men were presumably buying their
wives shoes, up and down the bril
liant street. But Richard found the
adventure shaking to the soul.
“They’re lovely shoes,” Harriet said,
as they walked out into the sunshine.
She told him that she was to meet
Nina at his mother’s at five. Richard,
with sudden eagerness, wondered if
she would spend the Interval in hav-.
Ing tea somewhere, but instead they
vent into a bookshop, and she carried
a new book triumphantly away. “It’s
a frightful day In town,” Harriet said,
“and if we’re a little early we may
all get away to the country that much
sooner I”
She established herself contentedly
beside him when they did finally start
for Crownlands. Ward, beside Han
sen, did most of the talking; Nina was
silent, and Harriet noticed that she
was very pale. Richard was repeat
ing to himself one phrase all the way;
a phrase that he found so thrilling
and absorbing that it was enough to
keep him from speaking aloud, or lis
tening to what the others said.
“I love her —I love her —I love her!”
thought Richard. And sometimes he
glanced sidewise at her, her beautiful
hair rippling in thick waves under the
thin veil, her face a little pale from
the heat of the day, her glorious eyes
faintly shadowed. When the swift
movement of the car brought her
shoulder against bls, their eyes met
for a smiling second, and It seemed to
Richard that his heart brimmed with
the most delicious emotion that he had
ever known.
Nina complained of a headache
when they reached home, and went
early to bed. Harriet, when she had
tubbed and changed to an evening
gown, glanced in at Nina, and thought
the girl asleep. There were men
guests for dinner, and afterward there
was bridge. Harriet sat with Madame
Carter for awhile, for the old lady had
also dined upstairs, went about the
house upon her usual errands, and,
going to her own room, found Nina
reading, at about ten o’clock. Nina
did not look up or speak as Harriet
came in.
The door that led to Richard’s room
was not only unlocked, but actually
ajar. Harriet gave It a surprised
glance, and spoke to Nina, In the next
room.
“Nina, did you unlock thte door?”
“What door?” Nina called. “Oh,
yesshe added. “I did.”
“Oh,” Harriet murmured. And she
stepped to the door, and looked into
Richard’s room.
It was a sort of upstairs sitting
room, furnished simply, in man
fashion, with deep leather chairs on
each side of the fireplace, broad tables
carrying only the essential lamps and
ashtrays, a shabby desk where Rich
ard kept personal papers, and book
shelves crammed with novels. Har
riet, making a timid round, saw Bal
zac and Dickens, Dumas and Fielding,
several Shakespeares and a complete
Meredith, jostling elbows with modern
novels In bright jackets, and yellow
French romances lotting their paper
covers.
Suddenly her heart turned to water;
B<»me tiny sound In the silence warn
ing her that some one had entered.
Hhe turned, discovered here In the
very center of his own private apart
ai<« > He was standing not three
I feet away from her. For a second
they stared at each other with a sort
of mutual trepidation.
“Hello1” he said; then matter-of
factly, “I brought home a paper to
night; I wanted Unger to see it! I
left it in tixd suit I wore.”
He stepped to the dressing room,
and probed in a pocket, without mov
ing his pleasant look from her.
“Giving my room the once over?” he
said.
“Nina left the door opei£. i’ve never
been in here before,” Harriet said, try
ing to make her voice as natural as
his own. Confused and ashamed, she
was hardly conscious of what she said.
“Here we are!” Richard glanced at
the paper he had found. “See here,”
lie said, presently, going to a win
dow, “come here a minute, I want to
show you this! You see,” they were
both looking out Into the moonlight
now, “you see, this Is where I propose
to build on that big room downstairs,
throw the library into the blue room,
and have a big sleeping porch upstairs
here,” he explained. “Perfectly feasi
ble, and yet it will make a different
house of it I”
Harriet commented Interestedly
enough. But she heard his voice
rather than his words, and saw only
the well-groomed, black-clad figure, the
shining patent-leather shoes, the fine
hand that indicated the changes.
Perhaps he was conscious of confu
sion, too, for his words stopped, and
presently they were looking at each
other in a strange silence, Richard still
smiling, Harriet wide eyed.
Then suddenly his strong arms held
her close, and her blue, frightened
eyes were close to his, and she felt
everything else in the world slip away
from her except the exquisite knowl
edge that she loved this man with all
her heart and soul.
“I want to tell you something,”
Richard said, quickly and incoherent
ly. “I want you to know that I love
you—l think I’ve always loved you!
this wasn’t in our bond, I know, but I
think 1 couldn’t have wanted you so
without loving you! If —If the time
comes, Harriet, when you can care for
me, you’ll tell me, won’t you? That’s
all I want, just to know that you will
tell me. You’re going to tell me, your
self! I’m going to make you love me!
I’ll be patient—l’ll not hurry you—but
some day you’ll have to tell me that
I’ve—l’ve won you !”
He had spoken swiftly almost stern
ly, with a sort of desperate determina
tion. Now he freed her arms as sud
denly as he had grasped them, and
added, In a lower tone:
“Until that time I’ll not —not even—
kiss the top of your hair, Harriet,”
he said.
In the mad rushing of her senses
she could not find. the right word,
but she detained him with an entreat
ing hand. Her eyes, shining with a
look that he had never seen there be
fore, were flxed on his. But Richard
did not look at her eyes, he looked
down at the hand she had laid on
his own.
“I don’t think,” Harriet said, breath
lessly, “that I can ever like you any
more than I doI”
She had meant ft for surrender; her
heart was beating wildly with the
glorious shame of a proud woman who
gives herself. But Richard was not
looking at the betraying eyes. In the
great new love that had swept him
from all his o’d moorings there was a
deep humility. He only heard her say
that she could never learn to love him.
He bent his head over her finger tips,
and kissed them, as he said quietly:
“But I’m going to try to make you,
just the same!”
Then he was gone, and Harriet was
standing alone in the softly lighted
room. For a few moments she re
mained perfectly still, with her white
hands pressed to her burning cheeks.
Then, shaken with Joy and surprise,
with a delicious terror and something
of a child’s innocent chagrin, she
went noiselessly back to her own
room, closed the communicating door,
and undressed with pauses for the
dreams that would come creeping
over body and soul, and hold her in
their exquisite stillness for long min
utes together.
She was brushing her hair when
Nina suddenly appeared, and came
lifelessly in to sit on the edge of
Harriet’s bed.
“I want to ask you something!”
Nina said, In an qdd voice. “And,
Harriet, I want you ,to tell me the
truth I”
Harriet, turning, faced her between
two curtains of rippling gold. She
saw a new Nina, a subdued, thought
ful, serious woman in the old confi
dent Nina’s place.
“But first I ought to tell you that
I wasn’t with Amy today!” Nina said.
“Oh, Nina ! Must we begin that sort
of thing?” Harriet * eproached her.
But she was puzzled by Nina’s man
ner. “Back to school-girl tricks!” she
said.
“Never hack to a school-girl,” Nina
sa!d, passionately, “I’ll never be that
again. Harriet,” Rhe went on, “I’ve
written Royal three times, since my
birthday, and I’ve seen him twice.”
“You saw him today?” Harriet ven
tured.
“I went there this afterfioon,” Nina
admitted, heavily. Then suddenly,
“Harriet, did my father pay him—did
he take money—to break our engage
ment?”
“Nina, what a horrible thought! Os
course not!” Harriet could fortunate
ly answer In perfect honesty.
“Oh, Harriet,” the girl caught her
hands, turning sick and imploring eyes
toward her, “are you sure?”
“Nina, dear, your father would have
told me!”
“He might not —he might not!” Nina
Raid, feverishly. “But If he did—!”
§he whispered, half to herself. “That’s
Pilgrim, I rang for her,” she said, of
I » knock on her own door. “Ask my
father to come up, will you?” she said
to the maid, when Pilgrim appeared.
“We’ll fettle It now!”
“Mr. Carter is just coming up,” Pil
grim said. And a moment later Rich
ard, with an interested face, came
through Nina’s rdora, and joined them.
Harriet had had time only to knot her
hair back carelessly, and slip Into the
most formal of her big Chinese coats.
“Father,” Nina said, when they three
were alone together, “did Royal Blon
din take a check from you ten days
ago?”
Richard, taken unaware, glanced
sharply at Harriet, who shook her
head, with an anxious bi-jlr. He sat
down beside Nina on the bed, and put
a fatherly arm about her.
“Ah, Father, don’t put me off!” the
girl begged. “I wrote him, after my
birthday,” she said, “and told him
that money made no difference to me.
He didn’t answer. Then I got Bruce
Hopper to ask his mother to have
Blondin meet her at the club for tea,
and I saw him then. Nina
cast In, still in the new, self-contained
tone, “has been wonderful about It!
I know he only seems a silent sort of
boy, but I’ll never forget what he’s
done for me! Royal,” she resumed,
“didn’t want to see me, and said he
had promised Father that It was over.
He —but I needn’t tell you all he said.
It sounded—” Nina clung to her fa
ther’s hands, and shut her eyes. “It
sounded so—so false!” she whispered,
bitterly. “So I went to his studio to
day!” she presently continued. “And
there were two or three women
there, but It wasn’t that. They were
—well, perhaps they were just having
Jflk
’MgsK pa
A
“And, Harriet, I Want You to Tell Me
the Truth 1"
fun. But—” And, Nina looked piti
fully from Harriet’s sympathetic face
to her father’s troubled eyes. “But
I’ve not been having much fun I” she
faltered, with a suddenly trembling
mouth. “I’ve been planning—pray
ing I —that somehow it would come out
right. He told me today that he had
promised not to see or speak to me
for two years,” she said, slowly. “I
Father, I knew that he had a reason!
He was changed. I never saw him so!
And two hours ago,” she pointed to
the door that led into her father’s
room, “two hours ago I went in there,”
she said, “and I looked over your own
check book. Father, did you write
him a check? Was that the stub that
had ‘R. B.’ on it?”
Richard looked at her sorrowfully.
“I’m sorry, Nina,” he said, simply.
“I told hirn you should not know, from
me! I wmuld have spared you that.”
For a few minutes there was silence
in the room. Then Nina said bravely,
through tears:
“I don’t know why you should be
sorry for what will save me mohths
of siow worry, all at one blow! You
and Harriet needn’t worry any more.
I’m cured. I’ve been a fool, let him
flatter me and lie to me,” said this
new Nina, with bitter courage, "but
I’m over it now. I’m sorry I gave you
much trouble. Father ”
“My darling girl,” her father said,
tenderly. “I only wish I could spare
you all this!”
“Better now than two or three years
after we were married,” Nina Raid.
“Plenty of girls find it out then! Fa
ther, I want you to get that check,
through the clearing-house, for me.”
she Raid, heroically, “and I want to
keep it. If ever I’m a fool about a man
again. I’ll take it out and look at It!”
“I have it; I told Fox to get it to
day,” Richard said. “You shall have
it!”
Nina had turned suddenly white; it
was as if a last little hope had been
killed.
“You have it!” she whispered. “He
cashed It, then !”
“He cashed It the next morning,”
Richard sold. Nina was silent for a
moment.
“How you must laugh at me, Har
riet !” she said then.
“I? Laugh at you!” Harriet said,
stricken. “My darling girl, I am the
last woman In the world who could do
that! I was only your age, Nina, when
I met him —you know that story. Why,
Nina, you’re but eighteen, after all;
you’ll have many and many an affair
before the right man comes along,”
Harriet said. “You’ll look back on this
some day. and say, ‘lt was an experi
ence, and I learned from It! It Is only
going to make me happier and more
sun- when the man whom I really love
comes to me !’ ”
Nina, sitting between Richard and
Harriet on the bed. looked wistfully
I from one face to another.
”I’ll try to make it so, Harriet!”
I she said. And somewhat timidly she
added, “Father —and Etarrlet—shall
you feel dreadfully If I say that I don’t
want to go to Brazil? I’ll tell you
why. Ward Is going out to the Gardi
ner ranch, and Bruce is going, too, and
it seems to me that riding and camp
ing and living in the open air will be —
well, will seem better to me than Just
being on the steamer! I dread seeing
strange places and meeting people,’’
said Nina. “The Gardiner girls were
simply darling to me the term they
were in school, and —don’t you remem
ber, Harriet? —we were the only people
who took them out for Christmas and
Easter holidays, and they like me!
And —if you wouldn’t be too disap
pointed, Harriet, I believe I would like
it better !*’
“My darling girl,” Harriet said,
warn.ly, -you must do what seems
right to you. But you won’t need me?”
she added, tactfully.
“Well, you see Mrs. Gardiner and
Mrs. Hopper are sisters,” Nina ex
plained. readily, “and they’ll be with
us. But if you’d like to come—we are
going camping in the most glorious
canyon that you ever saw!” Nina in
terrupted herself with sudden enthusi
asm. “And I am so glad I really can
ride! I’d feel so horrible if I couldn’tl”
“I think you’ll have a wonderful two
months of it,” Harriet said, “..ad then
Granny’ll be coining West, to spend the
winter in Santa Barbara, too I And
now, Nina love, it’s after eleven
o’clock,” she ended with a change of
tone, “and you have had a terrible
day! We will have to do some more
shopping tomorrow afternoon, and try
on the riding habits, and do a thousand
things. And, Nina,” Richard heard her
add tenderly, when his daughter had
given him a rather sober good-night
kiss at the door of her room, “when
ever you feel sad and depressed about
it, just remember to say to yourself,
‘This won’t last I In a few months the
sting will all be gone!”
“Nina is in safe hands!” Richard
said to himself, thankfully, as he
closed the door. He carried a memory
of Harriet’s earnest eyes, her low, ea
ger voice, her encouraging arm about
Nina’s shoulders.
They were all at breakfast when he
came down the next morning. His
mother, in one of her lacy, flowing
robes she always wore before noon,
laid down a letter half-read, to smile
at him. Ward, his dark head very
sleek above his Informal summer cos
tume, was deep in talk with Bruce
Hopper, who had evidently ridden over
from the country club, and was in a
well-fitting, shabby Jersey that became
his somewhat lanky frame. Nina,
somewhat silent, but interested in ev
erything, wore an expression of quiet
self-possession that her father found
touching. Nina was growing up, he
thought.
Completing the group, and officiat
ing at the foot of the table, was the
radiant Harriet. She looked as fresh
as one of the creamy rosebuds that
were massed in the dull blue bowl be
fore her, her shining hair framing the
dusky forehead like dull gold wings,
the frail sleeves of her blue gown fall
ing back from her rounded arm.
“You’re late, Iny son,” said Madame
Carter, as he kissed her temple.
“Never mind,” Harriet said serenely,
“I’ve Just this instant come, and he
saves my face! Do turn that toast.
Ward!” she added. And to the maid,
“Mr. Carter’s fruit, Mollie, please.”
Breakfast was the least formal of
all the informal meals at Crownlands.
Bottomley was never in evidence until
the late luncheon; mail and newspa
pers, and the morning gaiety of the
young people all made for cheerful dis
order.
“If you’re going into town at ten.
Father, we’ll go, too,” Nina suggested.
“But I can’t,” she was heard to mur
mur in an undertone to the disappoint
ed Bruce. “I have to get clothes, don’t
I?”
“Oh, Brazil —Brazil —Brazil 1" the
youth said, disgustedly. “I hate the
sound of it!”
“These clothes are for the ranch,”
Nina said, smiling. Both her father
and Harriet augured well from the
youth’s Instantly transformed face.
“Say—honestly?” he asked, inelo
quently, wdth an irrepressible grin.
“I thlii* so,” Nina murmured. The
rest of their conversation was inaudi
ble; they presently wandered forth to
finish it on the tennis court. Ward
followed his grandmother upstairs, and
Harriet and Richard were left to fin
ish their breakfast alone.
“You look tired,” Harriet said, ris
ing, when his omelette came In, and
parsing beside the head of the table
for an instant on her way to the
pantry.
“I had a bad night,” Richard ad
mitted. “But that’s not all you’re go
ing to have for breakfast?” he pro
tested.
“I never have more!” Harriet
smiled. “I’m sorry about the bad
night,” said she.
“I couldn’t help thinking—” Rich
ard began. “What is it, Mollie?” he
added, harshly, to lhe hovering maid.
“Nothing—no matter —sir,” Mollie
stammered, retreating. “It was Just
that the man about the sheep came
sir—” she faltered.
“The sheep!” Richard echoed,
frowning. Harriet laughed gayly.
“Oh, yes!” she said. “I told you I
had ordered two or three young
•sheep,” she explained, ‘to keep our
iawrs cropped. They look so adora
ble, and they do it so nicely 1 Has he
got them, Mollie?" she added, eagerly.
“Oh, I must see them! I’ll be back in
exactly five minutes, Mr. Carter,” she
said.
“What are we supposed to do with
them in winter?” Richard asked, smil
ing.
“Oh, they will have a little—a little
byre!” she answered, readily. “You’ll
—you’ll like them!” And he heard
her Joyous voice following Mollie
away.
Richard pushed back his plate and
looked Irresolutely after her. Then
suddenly he rose and walked through
the pantry, asking two startled maids
for Mrs. Carter. Etelka had been sev
eral years in the house without ever
seeing “him” in this neighborhood be
fore.
Richard crossed a sunshiny brick
walled yard, where linen was drying,
and went through a brick gateway
that gave on a neglected little lane.
The lane had once been the driveway
for a carriage ami a prancing pair,
hut there were only riding horses at
Crownlands now, and three of these
were looking over the wall at the
grass-grown road. And Richard found
Harriet here.
She was on her knees, in the pleas
ant green shadow of the old sycamores
and maples; her back was toward him.
She was looking up into the face of
the old stableman, Trotter, who stood
before her, his crooked, dwarfed old
figure still further bent, as he held
two strong young ewes by their thick,
woolly shoulders.
As Trotter give him a respectful
good morning, Harriet sprang to her
feet and whirled about and Richard
saw the woodeny stiff legs of a very
young lamb dangling from her arms
and the lamb’s meek little black-rub
ber face close to the beautiful face he
loved.
“Oh, Richard!” she said, carried
away by her own delight. “Look at
it! Isn’t it the sweetest darling baby
that ever was! Oh, you sweet!” she
said, putting her lips to the little wool
ly head.
“You are!” Richard said quite with
out premeditation.
Harriet laughed, surrendered the
little lamb to Trotter and followed
the old man’s departure to the stables
with an anxious warning.
“They’re to have this little eucios
ure all to themselves,” she explained
to Richard when they were alone.
“He’s going to build them a little
shed.” And as Richard, his back lean
ing against the low brick wall, made
no immediate attempt to move, she
looked at him expectantly. “Shall
we go back?" she suggested.
“That sounded very pleasant to me,"
Richard said with deliberate irrele
vance.
Harriet looked at him in puzzled
silence.
“I mean your calling me Richard,"
he said.
She flushed brightly and laughed.
“Did I? I always think of you as
Richard!” she explained.
“So you abandon me on the Brazil
trip?” he asked, watching her seri
ously.
"Well—?” Harriet shrugged. “I
thought you had to go,” she added.
“I’m—l’ll confess I’m disappointed.
But to have Nina want to do anything
is such a relief to me that I’m only
going to think of that 1"
“Yes, I have to go,” Richard said
slowly. “I must be there for a month
at least. But I’m disappointed, too.
I got thinking of it, in the night—-I
couldn’t sleep! I’m disappointed, too.”
He fell silent. “I wish,” he said hesi
tatingly, “that you had not told me
that you—you don’t feel that you—are
going to love me!” he said. “I love
you with all my heart and soul. It—
well, it’s all I think of now. I want—”
He turned and picking an ivy leaf
from the wall looked nt it intently for
a moment and tore it apart before he
lot it fall. “However,” he said phil
osophically, smiling at her, “we’ll let
that wait!”
Harriet, close to him, laid one hand
upon his shoulder.
-You misunderstood me,” she safl
steadily. “What I said was that I
could not love you more than I do I
Aren’t you—ever—going to under
stand?”
For a long minute they looked
Into each other’s eyes.
“Harriet, do you mean it?” Richard
said then, simply.
“Yes,” she answered, “I mean It!
I’ve always meant it. I’ve always
loved you, I think. No man could
want any woman to love him more!”
The blue eyes so near his own were
misty with sudden tears. In the de
serted little lane, in the blue summer
morning and the green shade of the
sycamores, they were alone. Richard
put his arms about her.
And for a moment he held all the
beauty and fragrance and laughter
and tears that was Harriet close to
his heart; the soft hair tumbled, the
brown, firm young hand resting on
his shoulder, the warm cheek against
his own.
A breeze rustled through the
branches high above them; the
blue river, beyond the brick wall,
flowed on in an even sheet of
satin; two birds looped the enclosure
in a sudden twittering flight; and
from the stable region came the plan
tive bleating of a mother sheep. But
to Harriet and Richard the world was
all their own.
“My wife I" said Richard Carter.
(THE END.)
Not at All Misleading.
The young reporter had been warned
repeatedly against the use of trite ex
pressions in his writeups. However,
he couldn’t break the habit and one
day he handed in the following ac
count of a public hanging, then won
dered why the editor laughed: “The
huge crowd which gathered bright and
early for the hanging at the county
Jail this morning was not kept wait
ing, for the business of the day start
ed off with a swing.” •
That Inborn Longing.
There is no inborn longing that may
not be fulfilled. I think that Is as
certain as the forgiveness of sins.—
George MacDonald. | .
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 16, 1922.
The KITCHEN
I CABINET
Copyright, 1922, Western Newspaper Union.
"The world shoves angrily aside
The man who stands with arms
akimbo set
Until occasion tells him what to do;
And he who watts to have his task
marked out
Shall die and leave his errand unful
filled."
DELICIOUS MEATLESS DINNERS
For those who must, und those who
wish to leave meat out of the menu.
the following recipes will
I prove suggestive:
} Mock Sausages.—Soak
one-half cupful of limn
beans overnight in wa
| ter to cover. Drain and
cook in salted water un
til soft. Put through a
puree strainer, add one-
third of a cupful of dried
bread crumbs, three tablespoonfuis of
butter, one-half teaspoonful of sage,
one beaten egg, salt and pepper to
season. Shupe in the form of sau
sage, dip in beaten egg and bread
crumbs and fry in deep fat. Serve
with rings of tart apples fried. Ar
range the apple slices overlapping
around the platter.
Serve boiled potatoes with a cheese
sauce. Make a white sauce, adding
as much grated cheese as one likes for
flavor; more for nourish' lent.
A salad of head lettuce sprinkled
with a few nuts and served with
French dressing will be good. The
nuts may be omitted if the meal seems
sufficiently nourishing for those to
whom It is to be served.
For dessert serve any fruit pie. but
apple, as the apple lias already ap
peared in this menu.
Another dinner may begin with can
teloupe or melon served as cocktail in
cubes or balls, covered with a lemon
or mint sauce.
A tasty cream soup served with
finger strips of buttered toast.
A nut roast, using two cupfuls of
rather coarsely chopped nuts mixed as
one does with the Ingredients used in
a veal loaf. Baste during the baking
and serve with a highly seasoned to
mato sauce.
A favorite dft?sert Is cottage cheese,
or cream cheese, mixed with a gener
ou quantity of chopped seeded raisins,
orange and lemon Juice, with a very
little of the orange rind grated in.
This is rich and nutritious as well as
delicious.
For dessert, a delicious orange ice
cream, using the Juice of oranges, the
grated rind of one, sugar, a dash of
lemon and a cupful of cream to a cup
ful of orange Juice. Freeze and serve
tn sherbet cups. Serve with :
In tin? same oven with the roast
bake the potatoes with two small
sliced onions, six tablespoonfuls of any
good oil (either olive or com), one
tablespoonful of minced parsley and
salt and pepper. The onions may be
omitted If not desired.
Sliced cucumbers and onions with
French dressing or a plain lettuce
salad may be served.
It is astonishing what a differer.es
there is between the earning power of
a man who does things pretty well
and of one who docs them un well as
they can be done.—O. A. Marden.
A STORY ABOUT STARCH
We all know that starch, the Im
portant member of the carbohydrate
family Is Indis
pensable in a
balanced ration.
Bread, which h
the staff of life
and plays an im
portant part in
every meal In
every home from
palace to hovel, is a starch food.
In all cereal grains as well as in
roots, fruits und tubers, starch is found
In greater or less quantity. It Is
found in stems such as celery, sago
and rhubarb and in the leaves, as in
spinach.
Starch, a combination of three ele
ments, six parts carbon, ten parts
hydrogen and five parts oxygen, repre
sents nature’s wonderful way of stor
ing food first for the seed of the plant
to feed upon, then for the plant, and
finally for man.
From the first meal up to the pres
ent time starch has played an Im
portant part; It is today two-thirds of
the human diet.
Starch furnishes fuel to heat the y
human machine and create energy to
run it.
Under a microscope starch grains
too small to be seen by the naked eye
will be varied as to size according to
their source ami are sloped round
or oval. Each little granule Is a wa
terproof package, another example
of the provision made by a wise Cren
tor; this little granule has n tough
outer coat and its contents consist of
countless atoms. This coat protects
this precious food from moisture and
spoiling.
As starch is found In such alum
dance, it is easy to get and Is the cheap
est, which makes it so universally
used.
The transformation of starch Into
sugar Includes thirty different stages;
this is another proof of the wisdom “f
Providence, as sugar is the circulating
source of heat and energy, the anl tilde
form .of starch. All starch must, then,
be changed into sugar before it can
be used as a body food.