The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 30, 1903, Page 11

THE SUNDAY - CALL. 11 al. everything there is put things. Just under i red tablecloths with the folded, and then the im- r te ready for active er swings back on its hinges ps keep It from upsetting d saucers, knives, forks t fit and are strapped se- r respective places. sket divided into va- r sents. For instance, one . ntains & spirit stove over which sways & brass kettle, the fin- a coffee brewer and the alco- s near at hand, elways ready is A he wk jar labeled “butter,” and . with m” on its cover match coffee, salt and pepper boxes to t get into mischief, and biscuit box is quite near emough t r all the latest gossip about mila~ [ ord's table manners, E makes all the difference in the w you know, and long before £h toned basket left the factory wded it over the lesser and plain- nd given etiguette. the modest little 15-cent tin pall them lessons in all brings half a hundred. opportunity to flaunt and put on airs gradually, yet comes right down to it the tin e right of way; undeniably that first. gman probably needed a full and more than any one else, and d quantity and not quality. Nine out of ten a newspaper with four e slices of bread, some a flask of cold tea was 1gh for him and he prided ng out of carrying any- t the school children, who rode sev- " miles to school, clamored for hey demanded something d be fastened on so thqy could long their way, running jolcing generally. Necessity of invention, S0 Mrs. romptly converted the smallest me into her g@inds into If the pail weighed ten n’t in the least daunted, e she had cut it down, sed it up with a new handle, it t know itself. The color didn't make y difference and the flaming red adver- t was allowed to stay where it the other side was duly decorat- ed with its owner's name and many & free fight averted in this way. But wh one has an automobile to glide about In and nothing on earth to do but seek pleasure it alters the case de- cidedly. Now, don't it? One of the first girls In town who had a basket d to her nifty runabout was Miss Alice Hager, who, by the way, al- ways bas everything that s worth & bean. She sees It, longs for it a moment and 1t is hers. Of course, there are baskets and bas- kets. That is, all sizes and fitted up in various wares and ways, but there is just one that boasts of a table, For a jolly spin of just two—one of those little impromptu affairs where a chaperon is distinctly and decidedly In the way—nothing could be more conven- fent than a emall * clently cammodious to suffice for two hungry campers. The 1id carries two spoons—although one has been known to do—two knives, two forks and a matchbox. In the very center of the basket there is a spirit stove and kettle and just behind it a white tray, two plates and two saucers. In one corner there is a falr sized bottle for & flask of alcohol and a cou- Just opposite are three tin ple of cups. compartments, one for bread or biscuits, another for fried chicken, while the other serves admirably for potgto chips or any L FSCORE FOIZONTY 2 QUICK SUCCE S sitting meekly In the shadow of an “au- S [ THELE Zhspr TR THIZST LRI O n‘(‘\\ THE EVOLUTION OF & THE DINNER PAIL RER [ BOXES Cldly NEXT: COOKLIG NEXT LTEDE, DOSSIBLE,, Lunch Baskets From Goldberg, Bowen & Co. of the little nothings that go such a long enthusiastic devotees Mrs. Charles K. way toward the making of a dainty Harley probably holds the palm, for there luncheon. is scarcely a week that Miss Julla de For people like the Crockers, the Laveaga and Miss Ruth Gedney fall to Bchwerins and the Martins, who spend trip over bound for the woods. In rum- most of their time at Blingum, the basket abouts and on sturdy cobs the cavalcade . for four is much more used, and its fill- journeys to the allotted spot and a lazy ing has been reduced to a sclence. peaceful day is before them. “Hello, Private Exchange 1. This is the In less than two and a half minutes a Hobarts’ place. Fill that ‘automobile’ feast fit to set before the king is yours for four and send it on the flve train. for the asking, so is it any wonder that Yes, a regular lunch. Make it a good outings are distinctly the order of the one. Good-by.” And that's the art of day? The only wonder is that folks were pienic concocting. 80 slow in finding out how much fun Sam Rafael isn't far enough away to they were missing, but just now to be have been left out, and there are a multl- executing the proper caper you and your tude of haunts that must have been friends really must make up for lost made for this precise reason. Of all her time. MRS.PEPPER’'S TACTICS By Harriett Whitney. .i—— 5 (Copyright, 103, by T. C. McClure.) T was 7 o'clock Monday iy = e morning and the smoke l [?‘% >t Louizy Cotton- .G.“f 2% | wood's wash fire in the back yard was thread- ing its blue haze into the fresh, early air. Louizy’s father, Ly- man Cottonwood, striking out ’cross lots, lagged a little while he started his after- breakfast cob pipe. His gaze dwelt rumi- natively upon the big ash hopper a few moments, then traveled back to the form of his daughter just appearing from the smoke-house witheg tub in her arms. “Loutzy,” sald Her father, leaning an elbow on a corner of the hopper, “I was goin’ to tell you, an’ furgot, the Widder Pepper's a-comin’ up to-day fer a basket o' windfall spy apples to make dumplin’s, an’ I gotter be at Harris’s all day helpin” thrash. You show ‘er where the good ones is at—an’ don't you sass 'er none; y'understand?” “I ain't carin’ how many spy apples she gathers. Reckon apples wasn't the only thing you an’ her' was settlin’ about yes'day evenin'.” “Wull,” Lyman looked off slantwise across the hopper, “I got "er penned up es closte es you ever kin pen a woman. The darned contrary birds won't never give you a square-out ‘yes' till atter the preacher's sent fer. But you kin count on havin’ a stepma before pumpkins is I pe. “I wouldn’t think, then, paw,” Louizy’s volce became mildly reproachful, “seein’ how happy you're a-going’ to be, you'd begrutch me—an'—an’—Sam—"" Her father came up from his lounging attitude with a Jerk, N “Louizy Jane Cottonwood, how many times I gotter tell you that's diffrunt? Now, listen yere”—he ticked off his points with the forefinger of his right hand in the spread of his palm of the left—“I told you the whutfors an’ whysos yes'da; ' that’s nuff said. An' now listen at f I don’t find Bam Dorkins at Harris’ thrashin’ to-day, it's a slgn he's over yere, an’ ef he is, you'll see me back, an’ you'll see me bounce Sam over the fence into the bresh quick enough to jolt his ears crooked. Now mind whut I've told ye." Louizy shed so many tears over her wash that morning that when the fat lit- tle Widow Pepper came with her basket she cast many sharply inquisitive glances at the red rims of the forlorn malden’ eyes. “Looky here, Louizy Cottonwood,” said she at length, as the two trudged up to the orchard, “you ain't been actin' the baby ‘cause you paw wants to marry agin—hev ye?” Loulzy shook her head. “I wouldn't care a speck if he married to-morrow, if he’d have the manners to leave me an’ Sam Dorkins alo; “Humph,” sald the widow, “whut's he layin’ up against S8am?" “Nothin’ pertickler, but he ‘lows there's no sense of me marryin’ fer half a dozen years er so. He's countin’ on takin' a lot of city folks to board of summers, after you an’ him are married, an’ he ys two women'll be needed to cook fer rem." “You don't know paw,” sald she wis- mally. *‘Couldn’t more than kill ye, could he?" “Sor folks’ tongues is worse than killin. » The widow trudged forward in silent self-communion, which lasted until they reached the northern spy apple tree. Louizy began to fill the basket with the bright streaked ‘windfalls, but Mrs. Pep- per plumped herself down comfortably into the clover. “Sam Dorkins is goin’ on forty,” sald she, meditatively. “He's s sight nigher to my age than yours. Louizy paused suddenly in her task and looked questioningly at the wido “Oh, I was jest a-thinkin’” the latter observed carelessly, biting juicily into = blg apple, 4 friends. Better stop now, Louizy; that's many I kin pack.” & RGN T g (g e e Lyman Cottonwood ‘was in the narrow lane between his turnip fleld and hi tobacco patch, stopping a gap In t fence, when a thudding of feet on the mellow earth drew hiy attention. A broad-shouldered fellow was swinging briskly along with an ax on his shoulder, “Hello, Un¢’ Lyme,” he halled cheer- tully. “Here, you, Sam Dorkins.” Lyman barred his way with belligerent elbows. “This yere lane’s a private ome, ef you want to know it; an’ you've gotter keep 'way from Louizy Cottonwood-whether you want to know it er not.” “I ain't a-goln’ to tote the lane off with me, ner Louizy, neither. I wasn't aimin’ to stop yere; didn’t know es I'd spile the lane goin’ through it to the Widder Pepper’s.” ‘“Widder Pepper's,” bawled Lyman, frantically, “whut business you goin’ anywhere nigh’the Widder Pepper?’ “Come, now, Uncle Lyme,” grinned Sam, “don't hev a fit. Reckon I kin go chop a little stove wood fer a good- lookin’ widder without you floppin’ up like a sky rocket. I've knowed the wid- der a-many a year.” “I don't keer a con-taked turnip seed whut you've knowed,” foamed Lyman. “The widder kin git stove wood without you a-cuttin’ it. Lou take'n’ let that wid- der alone, er you shuck off yer coat an’ watch out fer me.” *“Sure now,” returned Sam, “you know I'm a younger man'n you, Uncle Lyme; better not be too biggotty. You may think you're the only speckied bean in the hill, but widders is notionated an’ kin fly about t'other way es easy es a flap-jack. An’ the country’s free, es I've heard say. There's no statuts that says two men shan’t spark one widder; an’ I reckon my chances is good es yourn, ef I choose to stake 'em right hearty. You kin fence me off from Louizy, but you can't fence me off from the widder.” “I kin send you flyin’ over them raila™ declared Lyman, wrathfully. “Well, now, I ain’t right shore it'd good policy to tackle the job,” sald argumentatively. “You got of rheumatiz, yo know, might pitch me over—an’ mighta’t. Now, I'll tell you whut; the widder's in need of stove wood. I shall go there an’ cut it fer her an’ stay to supper, ‘relse I'll loan you my ax an’ leave you go cut the wood fer her, an’ I'll go in an’ talk to Louizy a spell. Which'll it be?" Lyman leaned against the rall fence, his brain whizzing with new battery ideas. The desirabllity of the widow had In- creased tenfold since this bold rival had proclaimed himself so determinedly. What was Louizy in comparison? The ideas came to a focus. He stepped for- ward resolutely. “Han' over the ax,” he sald briefly, “an’ go ‘long in. Louizy’s ironin’. You an’ her kin be es big fools es you want.™ ‘When Mrs. Phoebe Pepper, looking from her doorway, saw Mr. Lyman Cottonwood coming up the walk with Sam’s ax on his shoulder her black eyes sparkled with fun. “I 'lowed that would fetch Lyme, ef Sam worked it all right,” she sald, “an’ mighty Micky thing for Loulzy tton- wood her futur stepmaw’s got a’ leetls graln o' gumption, seein’ Loulzy dom't know no more’'n & goslin how to tend te her own love affalrs.”