XII Bettina's Father Tries Her Cooking

"H ELLO, Bettina; this is Bob. What are you having for dinner to-night?" "It's all in the fireless cooker! Why?" "Couldn't you manage to make a picnic supper of it? One of the men at the office has invited us to go motoring to-night with him and his wife, and, of course, I said we'd be delighted. They're boarding, poor things, and I asked if we couldn't bring the supper. He seemed glad to have me suggest it. I suppose he hasn't had any home cooking for months. Do you suppose you could manage the lunch? How about it?" "Why, let me think! How soon must we start?" "We'll be there in an hour or a little less. Don't bother about it—get anything you happen to have." "It's fine to go, dear. Of course, I'll be ready. Good-bye!"

Bettina's brain was busy. There was a veal loaf baking in one compartment of the cooker, and on the other side, some Boston brown bread was steaming. Her potatoes were cooked already for creaming, and although old potatoes would have been better for the purpose, she might make a salad of them. As she hastily put on some eggs to hard-cook, she inspected her ice box. Yes, those cold green beans, left from last night's dinner, would be good in the salad. What else? "It needs something to give it character," she reflected. "A little canned pimento—and, yes—a few of the pickles in that jar."

Of course, she had salad dressing—she was never without it. Sandwiches? The brown bread would be too fresh and soft for sandwiches, but she could keep it hot, and take some butter along. "I'm glad it is cool to-day. We'll need hot coffee in the thermos bottle, and I can make it a warm supper—except for the salad."

She took the veal loaf and the steamed brown bread from the cooker, and put them into the oven to finish cooking. "How lucky it is that I made those Spanish buns! And the bananas that were to have been sliced for dessert, I can just take along whole."

When Bettina heard the auto horn, and then Bob's voice, she was putting on her hat. "Well, Betty, could you manage it?" "Yes, indeed, dear. Everything is ready. The thermos bottle has coffee in it, piping hot; the lunch basket over there is packed with the warm things wrapped tight, and that pail with the burlap over it is a temporary ice box. It holds a piece of ice, and beside it is the cream for the coffee and the potato salad. It is cool to-day, but I thought it best to pack them that way." "You are the best little housekeeper in this town," said Bob as he kissed her. "I don't believe anyone else could have managed a picnic supper on such short notice. Come on out and meet Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. May I tell them that they have a fine spread coming?"

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"Don't you dare, sir. It's a very ordinary kind of a supper, and even you are apt to be disappointed."

But he wasn't.

Bettina's picnic supper that cool day consisted of: Warm Veal Loaf Cold Potato Salad Fresh Brown Bread Butter Spanish Buns Bananas Hot Coffee

BETTINA'S RECIPES

(All measurements are level) Veal Loaf (Six to eight portions) 2 lbs. lean veal ½ lb. salt pork 6 large crackers 2 T-lemon juice 4 t-onion salt 1 T-salt ½ t-pepper 4 T-cream

Put two crackers in the meat grinder, add bits of meat and pork and the rest of the crackers. The crackers first and last prevent the pork and meat from sticking to the grinder. Add other ingredients in order named. Pack in a well-buttered breadpan. Smooth evenly on top, brush with white of an egg and bake one hour in a moderate oven. Baste frequently. The meat may be cooked in a fireless cooker between two stones. It is perfectly satisfactory cooked this way, and requires no basting.

Boston Brown Bread (Six portions) 1 C-rye or graham flour 1 C-cornmeal 1 C-white flour 1 t-salt 1½ t-soda ¾ C-molasses ¼ C-sugar 1½ C-sour milk or 1¼ C-sweet milk or water 2/3 C-raisins

Mix and sift dry ingredients, add molasses and liquid. Fill well-buttered moulds two-thirds full, butter the top of mould, and steam three and one-half hours. Remove from moulds and place in an oven to dry ten minutes before serving. 1—If sweet milk is used, 1 T-vinegar to 1¼ C will sour the milk. 2—Baking powder cans, melon moulds, lard pails or any attractively shaped tin cans may be used as a

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mould. 3—Two methods of steaming are used: (a) Regular steamer in which the mould, either large or individual, is placed over a pan of boiling water. Buttered papers may be tied firmly over the tops of uncovered moulds. (b) Steaming in boiling water. The mould is placed on a small article in the bottom of a pan of boiling water. This enables the water to circulate around the mould. Care must be observed in keeping the kettle two-thirds full of boiling water all of the time of cooking. (Bettina used the method in the fireless cooker.) She started the brown bread in the cooker utensil on the top of the stove. When the water was boiling vigorously, she placed it over one hot stone in the cooker. The water came twothirds of the distance to the top of her cans. In the cooker, she did not have to watch for fear the water would boil away. After fastening the lid tightly on the cookerkettle in which the bread was to steam, she did not look at it again for four hours. (It takes a little longer in the cooker than on the stove.)

CHAPTER XVI

BETTINA HAS A CALLER

T

HE next morning Bettina was alone in her little kitchen when the door bell rang. "Why, Mrs. Dixon; how do you do?" she said, as she opened the door and recognized the visitor. "Won't you come in?"

It must be admitted that Bettina was somewhat embarrassed at the unexpected call at so unconventional a time. Mrs. Dixon was dressed in a trim street costume, but under her veil Bettina could see that her eyes were red, and her lips quivered as she answered: "Forgive me for coming so early, but I just had to. I know you'll think me silly to talk to you confidentially when I met you only yesterday, but I do want your advice about something. You mustn't stop what you are doing. Couldn't I come into the kitchen and talk while you work?" "Why, my dear, of course you can," said Bettina, trying to put her at her ease. "You can't guess what I was doing! I was washing my pongee dress; someone told me of such a good way!" "Why, could you do it all yourself?" said Mrs. Dixon, opening her eyes wide. "Why not send it to be dry-cleaned?" "Of course I might," said Bettina, "but it would be expensive, and I do like to save a little money every month from my housekeeping allowance. There are always so many things I want to get. You see I'm doing this in luke-warm, soapy water—throwing the soap-suds up over the goods, then I'll rinse it well, and hang it in the shade to drip until it gets dry. I won't press it till it is fully dry, because if I do, it will be spotted."

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"How do you learn things like that?" "Oh, since I've been married, and even before, when I thought about keeping house, I began to pick up all sorts of good ideas. I like economizing; it gives me an opportunity to use all the ingenuity I have." "Does it? I always thought it would be awfully tiresome. You see, I've lived in a hotel all my life; my mother never was strong, and I was the only child. I liked it, and since I've been married, we've lived the same way. I never thought of anything else and I supposed Frank would like it, too—but lately—oh, all the last year—he's been begging me to let him find us a house. And then"—(Bettina saw that her eyes had filled with tears)—"he has been so different. You have no idea, my dear. Why —he hasn't been at home with me two evenings a week—and——" "You must be dreadfully unhappy," interrupted Bettina, wondering what she could say, since she disliked particularly to listen to any account of domestic difficulties. "But why not try keeping house? Maybe that would be better. Why, Bob doesn't like to be away from home any evenings at all." "But you've just been married!" said Mrs. Dixon, tactlessly. "Wait and see how he'll be after a few years!" "Well, that's all the more reason for trying to make him like his home. Have you thought of taking a house?" "That was just the reason I came to you. You seem to be so happy living this way—and it surprised me. I knew last evening what Frank was thinking when he saw this little house—and then when you unpacked the lunch—tell me honestly, did you cook it yourself?" "Of course," said Bettina, smiling. "Wasn't it hard to learn? Why, I can't cook a thing—I can't even make coffee! Frank says if he could only have one breakfast that was fit to eat——" and she buried her face in her handkerchief. "Why, Mrs. Dixon!" cried Bettina, cheerfully, though her heart was beating furiously. "Your trouble is the easiest one in the world to remedy! Your husband is just hungry—that's all! I'll tell you—we'll make this a little secret between us, and have such fun over it! You do just as I tell you for one month and I'll guarantee that Frank will be at home every single minute that he can!" "Do you suppose I can learn?" "I'll show you every single thing. We'll slip out this very day and look for a little house—to surprise Frank! And I'll teach you to cook by easy stages!" "Oh, will you?" smiled Mrs. Dixon, showing an adorable dimple in her round cheek. "You don't know how much better I feel already! When can we begin?" "Right now—with coffee—real, sure 'nough coffee that will make Frank's eyes stick out! Have you a percolator?" "No, but I can get one."

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