The evening world. Newspaper, February 25, 1922, Page 18

Tip —_—_—_—_—_—_— \ 2 THE EVENING WORLD'S FICTION SECTION, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1922. epee daar ee ny. the war, and the cost of living doubled, it wasn't an easy matter to manage that wedding. Mother had left it up to Tempie and me, and though Tem- pie’s only a servant, she’s been with us so long, she’s just like one of the family; and though I'm only nineteen, which is three years younger thaa Lettie and five older than Edith, 'm a first-rate little manageress, if I do say it myself, and can make a_ nickel spread over a dime’s worth of value pretty nearly always. There are al- most no economy dodges I don't know, from drippings to dyed lingerie ribbons. But this time Temple certainly did think of a new one. She kept look ng at the eggs—eggs were 85 cents a dozen—and the butter—butter -was 76 cents a pound—and at the great big pan we had to make the round cake in, and she mourned. At last she edgcd up to me and spoke low. “Say, Miss Kathy,"’ she began, ‘i'n thinking’*— I stopped chopping raisins and citron and waited. She had the light of battle in her eye. “Miss Lettie only wants the big cako for ornymint like—isn’t that so?” “I’ve told you a thousand times,’ I said wearily, “that it’s to be in the centre of the refreshment table, in Grandmother Gainsley’s old silver tray. And you know you're to cover it wth one of your marvellous hard white frostings, with all the fancy stuff and curleycues that it could passibly have if it came from Trazzini’s.” (Trazzini being our very best caterer.) Tempie took the tig pan and turned it upside down, meditatively. “Look here," “What if I was to take this pan, upside down, just like the cake will be when we turn it out, and cover the pan witi my icing, and dress it up with all tho curlycues and fancy dewdiddles and all—wouldn’t it look just like a real cake, and wouldn't it do just as well for a and wouldn't it save us two dozen eggs and all that sugar and butter—enough eggs for your ma's and Miss Lettie’s breakfasts for a week? Ain't that a grand idea, Miss Kathy, dear? And the other cake and cut it up and put it in the little silver and white she said. now, centrepiece, we'd make boxes and give them to the guests, and devil a soul will know the differ but you and me. What d'ye say now”? ‘Twould be saving a dollar sixty in eggs alone —and the butter’’— OBODY but those who have had to scrape and pinch the way Tempie and I've had to dv will appreciate what a tempia- tion it was. I'd been perfectly sick thinking about the bills that would be coming in the first of the month. Let- tie hadn’t spared money on her trous- seau, and mother’d had a new dress, and Edith and I had to have new ones, too, because we were to be brides- maids; and though I'd made them my- self, and they were only organdic, they'd required new slippers and silk stockings and hats—I’m not fool enough to try to make hats for an occasion like this. I know it wis going to take a year's hard times to get us back to normal again. Mother can't understand about bills. She al- ways thinks shopkeepers ought to be glad to supply us with things because we're such nice people and had suci wonderful ancestors. As for this wedding breakfast spread of Lettie’s—that had been almost the last straw. She and mother lad wanted to hand it all over to Trazzini, which meant that we'd have another bill of about $500, for it was going to be a proud, splurgy affair, I can teil you. Our big old house and our gar- den are just fine as a background tor parties—I often wish they weren't when I see the bills for chickens and finger-rolls and ice cream. I'd nude Lettie agree to be married in the gur- den, pointing out to her tactfully that she was one of the few girls whose complexion could stand exposure to sunlight, and also that our Baltimore Belle rose vine over the arbor—we cull it a pergola now—would be in full bloom, and she and Edgar and the rector could stand before it. The rcol reason I wanted a garden wedding ws because it would save money in hi use decorations. Our house is pretty shabby and takes a lot of fixing tu hide it. I'd been praying every night for six weeks that the weather would be good, for I meant to have the wed- ding spread served in the garden, too Which brings me right back to food again. Tempie and I had gone over every item, and we knew that we could male the jellied bouillon and the sandwiches and the salad and the patties, all by ourselves, at about one-tenth the cost of Traazzini. The ices we'd buy, but little cakes to serve with them and tie wedding cake and coffee and claret cup We'd make. We had it all figured out to the last centime, I can tell you, ana even so it ran to a fearful sum of money. So when Tempie suggested this perfectly simple way of saving several dollars, do you wonder that I looked upon .it with a kindly eye? “Nobody'll ever know but you and me,"’ she repeated. ‘‘After Miss Let- tie's married ‘and gone, who's to look after the remnants of the wedding feast but you and .me, Miss Kathy? We'll melt down the sugar icing off the pan and use it for pudding sauce, too. Oh, there won't be a thing wasted, whereas if we have a great iced cake to be eaten up it'll lust forever and be bad for yours and Miss Edith’s stummicks. Your ma won't touch it, as you know, for fear it'd fatten her up. What do y’ falter for? It's the grandest scheme I ever had, I'm sure. Look at thim eggs—and that butter! It’s a crime to be wasting it, to say nothing of the expense."’ LOOKED at the butter and eggs, and I looked at the pan, and [ wondered. If anything should happen that it would be found out, Lettie and mother would never forgive me, and, indeed, I wouldn't torgive myself. I wasn't going to have our family made ridiculous be- fore the Sparthwaites and their zet, as well as all the other people Lettie had asked. It would be a wonderful tidbit for the society papers—thoy'd already been rather catty about the daughter of the shabby genteel family, who'd managed to land a Sparthwaite, “But if anybody should lift the tray, Tempie—it'll be so much lighter than 4, thoushts of the wedding. ‘I do hope SHE DRAPED THAT OLD TIN PAN You can have some of ‘em in the mush when it gets too tiresome.” It was all just as that. I will say for Tempie that she kept her word. We went ahead and baked the cake that was to be cut up, and it came out fine. I was sort of afraid. Edith might be poking around in, and I knew she'd notice that we hadn't baked the round cake. but luckily she stayed away. As for Lettie and mother, they never come into the kitchen. All Lettie said was, in that sweet dependent way of hers, just a few days before the wedding: “Kathy, dear, are you sure every- thing’s going to be all right?"’ “If we only have good weather,"’ I told her, ‘‘there isn’t anything that can go wrong."’ “Edgar says his best man is so anxious to meet you,’’ went on Lettie. She was trying on one of her trousscau gowns—a little blue and white dimity— and she looked like a garden party angel in it. “Oh, that nice Dr. Blaine we met at Narragansett,’’ said mother, who was sitting by to help. ‘‘A charming man, quite delightfully brusque—and with a black mustache. Why is it so many brusque men have black mustaches? The two almost always go together." I collapsed on the bed. I was tired. Tempie and I had cleaned all the silver that day. Charming men, with or without black mustaches, were nothing to me at that moment, All I wanted in the world was to get that wedding over without a hitch. Lettie had forgotten about Dr. Blaine by this time and gone back to simple as Soe: SUIS ¥ IN THE MOST WONDERFUL COATING OF ICING YOU EVER SAW. a real cake,'’ I objected weakly. *“*Now, don’t be foolish, Miss Kathy," said Tempie, with contempt. ‘Who is there that goes about at weddings lifting up the fancy dishes? If that worries you, | can slip a brick under the pan.”’ “All right,’’ I said at last. ‘‘Let's do it, Tempie, But don’t breathe it to a soul. It's our secret—yours and mine. If Edith finds it out we migat as well publish it in the papers, And the waitresses we have in for the re- ception mustn't suspect, either.’’ “They won't come until after the table is all arranged,’’ said Tempie. “‘Ag for Miss Edith—I'm going to put this cake when it's baked under lock and key, anyway, for it needs all of its two weeks’ mellowing. Then, the day before the wedding, when you're cutting it up and putting it in the boxes I'll be busy putting the fine, thick, fancy icing on the pan." She gathered up the eggs and butier we'd saved and carried them away. “There's enough here to last us right up till the day of the wedding if we're careful,"" she gloated, ‘‘and nothing more need be bought; and as for raisins, we'll now have a store to last till Christmas time or thereabouts the food isn't going to look homemade and stupid,'’’ she said, pulling at the dimity sash. ‘I can’t see why I didn't have Trazzini, after all. I might have had Edgar pay for it afterward—with- out his knowing it, of course."’ “Well,” [ fired up, ‘‘we're poor, Lettie, but before I'd see a sister of mine skin her husband out of the money to pay for her wedding break- fast, I'd work myself to shreds. Don't you worry about the food. It's going to be the best you ever ate, and it will look all right, too. ‘T'razzini would be out of business if Tempie and I ever took up catering in a serious way, be- lieve me."’ “You use such vulgar slang, dear,"’ said mother sweetly—-just the way I talk to Edith. ‘‘Skin’ and ‘believe me!’ It really isn’t done" “I'm so glad I got those darling little boxes for the wedding cake," said Lettie, taking no notice either of mother or me, ‘“‘When Tempie cuts it, do remember to bring me a little piece, Kath—I might forget to taste tt on the day of the wedding, I have so much to think of, and I'd really like to have a bit of my own wedding cake."’ I'd beea so busy I'd almost lost ‘ ( sight of Temple's and my /wedding cake scheme, but Lettie’s word brought it back, and I had a shiver, of premo- nition. However, I knew 'there> was plenty of the other cake to give her a piece of it, and she hadn't said any- thing about the round one. It seemed safe enough, but oh, my guilty con- science troubled me about the sham. I had—if mother will permit me to use one more scrap of vulgar slang—I had a hunch. “I'll see that you get a piece, all right,"" I promised’ “and now I'm going off to bed, for I’ve got to be up early to-morrow and begin to get the house cleaned. Please don’t be around more than you can help. Tempie and I are going to sweep, scrub and pelish the furniture.”’ +« Lettie came over and gave me a fond good-night kiss. ‘‘Little sister."’ she murmured, ‘‘you're so good—and so wonderful. What would I do with- out you?" What, indeed, I wondered myself. HE day before the wedding, in the afternoon, Tempie and [ locked ourselves in the pantry, drew down the blinds and lit the electric light. I went to work cut- ting the cake, and she draped that old tin pan in the most marvellous coating of icing you ever saw. It was lixe snow and hoarfrost. Delicate flutings ran over its top, drawn into a delicious whirl in the centre. Exquisite little shells were placed all round the edge. It wasn't overdone, either. It was just right, and when Tempie had finished it was a regular fairy cake—provided, of course, fairies are the size of brob- dingnags and eat cake. I could hardly get my own work done for watching. It really was a masterpiece. Somehow, I hardly know how, we got the lovely thing off the pastry board and onto the beautiful old siiver tray that is the choicest piece of ail the old Gainsley silver. “When that gets a wreath of roses round it,’’ said Tempie prolly, “there's no one but will admire it as much as you and I, Miss Kathy. And all I hope is that the next one I ice will be for your wedding, with a grand, fine young man as wealthy and as handsome as this Lieut. Sparthwaite, or even more s0."’ “Well, I'm not going to have a fake cake, I'll tell you that," I dectuired. “It'll be the real thing or none,” “And well said,” exclaimed Tempie. “There's naught of the fake atout you, Miss Kathy."’ But as [ looked at the beautiful deception [ was helping to practise on my own sister, [ wasn't so sure. * * + * s . * WOKE up early in the morning, and before I was eveu half awake I listened to hear it it Was raining. It wasn't. So I struggled slowly out of bed and went over to the window, half afraid to look out, for even if it wasn't raining it might be cloudy. But no, if ever there was a summer dawn that looked like the real thing, it was Lettie's wedding morning. The sky was that wonderful clear, still gray-blue that means sun- shine all day long. “Thank heaven for that,"’ I sid, and proceeded to hop into my clothes and hustle down to the kitchen. Two of Lettie’s bridesmaids and five of Edgar's distinguished friends were staying in the house, and that meant breakfast trays. Early as I was. Tempie was before me, and we hustled round like mad, keeping as still as possible so that none of our guests would hear us and wake. We leaped at the downstairs part of the house and cleaned it s:b- limely. Then, while she got the trays ready, I cut bushels and bushels of flowers. I always arrange them on the back porch, and there [ was snp- ping stems and pouring water behind a barricade of vases and bowls and jugs and great heaps of roses and larkspur and honeysuckle, when t heard someone walking through the dining-room. I looked round, and there was Dr. Blaine, Edgar's best man, black mustache, brusque manners and all, I'd met him the night before, but hadn't a chance to speak to him— indeed, I'd hardly looked at him. I was none too glad to see him ihis morning, for I was wearing a very dirty pink bungalow apron and a pait of old white pumps that were a dis grace, “I'm so sorry you woke so early,” 1 said, ‘‘for in halt an hour you'd have had your breakfast tray, all comfort- ably in your room.” “T always get up early, and I'll slip over to the Inn for breakfast. That'll be one burden off your shoulders. Can I help you with these flowers’?"’ I hate to be helped with flowers, and I suppose [ looked it. “Oh, I can arrange them just as nicely as you can," he said. “I've lived in Japan and studied the native method. It has many superioritics over ours."’ ‘‘Maybe it has,"’ I agreed; ‘But I'm afraid I can’t change my whole scheme of decoration even so." And then I was ashamed of being so rude, and I relented, ‘‘If you'll put those pink roses in those blue and white china jars, it would be a help.” He didn't say another word, but fell to work, and really he arranged them beautifully with his square blunt. early,