HOUSEHOLD
WftiSI&ii&iwmfS&k
Simplicity Is the Keynote for Entertaining
(See Recipes Below)
Tricks for the Hostess
No smart woman need be In a
dilemma when it's time for her to
entertain. It taken
more than ration
i n g and food
shortages to do
that. Indeed, if
you don’t breathe
a word about how
difficult it was to
get it together, your friends will
think you are giving them a glimpse
of prewar entertaining.
You can stretch the precious meat
with a supporting cast of vegetables.
If you’re serving nonrationed eggs,
gild them with a bit of cheese and
no one will dream that you had to
■do some fancy extending.
What about sugar? Well, there
are syrups, point-free prepared pud
dings and molasses. No, there need
be no difficulties; dress up your
dishes and carry on.
Entertaining is fun, but that
means fun not only for the guests
but for the hostess. It's all up to
you whether the party’s going to be
pleasant for you or not. Gather your
point-easy recipes, plan accordingly
and I’m sure it will all come out
all right.
Let’s pretend your guests are
coming in for an evening of conver
sation and a bit of food later on.
You’ll want a good beverage or cool
,drink and with that an unusual cake.
Here is one made to order for the
occasion:
* Prune Cake,
f enpa sifted cake flour
ll cup sugar
!X teaspoon baking powder
H teaspoon soda
H teaspoon salt
W teaspoon cinnamon
V* teaspoon each, ground cloves,
nntmeg, allspice
H enp lard
* egg*
1 cup prunes, cooked without sugar.
% cup milk
Sift together all dry ingredients.
Blend about % of the mixture with
the lard until soft and fluffy. Add
unbeaten eggs and beat light. Cut
prunes into small pieces and sprin
kle with 2 tablespoons of the dry
mixture. Add remaining dry ingre
dients to creamed mixture together
with % cup of the milk. Stir smooth.
Add remaining milk and prune mix
ture and then pour into greased lay
er pans. Bake in a moderate (350
degree) oven until done, 25 to 30
minutes. This cake is good with a
mocha or lemon icing.
Delicately spiced cookies are good
to have in the cookie box because
they’re easy to fall back on when
the crowd comes in for refresh
ments:
Maple Nut Balls,
tt cup lard
H cup brawn sugar
% teaspoon salt
Lynn Says:
Quick Tips: To make a novel
dinner or luncheon dish, broil
slices of bologna from which
casings have been removed. Then
fill the cups with creamed
potatoes and onions or any oth
er creamed vegetable.
When making hamburgers for
a crowd, wrap each individually
in waxed paper. The rounds may
be cut with a cookie cutter to
make them an even size.
When making scalloped pota
toes, prepare a complete main
dish by placing slices of dried
beef in between the sliced pota
toes.
Combine mashed sweet pota
toes and cooked, crumbled pork
sausage meat in a casserole. A
topping of freshly sliced pears or
apples sprinkled with brown
sugar makes this a big favorite.
Bake at 350 degrees for 30 min
utes.
Liver is delicious when mari
nated (soaked) in French dress
ing before broiling or frying.
Lynn Chambers’
Point-Saving Menus
Creamed Deviled Eggs
over Crisp Noodles
Buttered Peas and Celery
Apricot Cottage Cheese Salad
Whole Wheat Bread Spread
•Prune Cake
Beverage
•Recipe given,
Vk cup sour milk or buttermilk
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon ginger
1 cup molasses
2Ya cups flour (about)
Cream lard, sugar and salt togeth
er. Add sour milk in which soda
has been dis
solved. Add gin
ger and molasses
and enough flour
to make dough
that is not sticky.
Shape into small
balls and bake on
oiled pans at 375
degrees. While still hot, press
the flat sides together and roll in
maple-flavored icing, made with
confectioners’ sugar. Roll In finely
chopped nuts. It takes 10 to 12 min
utes to bake cookie balls.
Oatmeal-Mincemeat Cookiea.
(Makes 2'4 dosen cookies)
1H cups sifted flour
Va teaspoon baking soda
teaspoon salt
H cup shortening
44 cup light brown sugar, firmly
packed
1 egg
1 cup oatmeal, uncooked
H cup chopped nutmeats
1 cup mincemeat
Sift together flour, baking soda and
salt. Cream the shortening, add
the brown sugar, then egg and beat
until light and fluffy. Last fold in
oatmeal, nutmeats and mincemeat,
blending well. Add flour mixture
and stir until all flour disappears.
Drop by spoonfuls onto greased
cookie sheet. Bake in a moderately
hot (375-degree) oven for 12 to 15
minutes.
As main dishes for luncheons or
suppers. I’m suggesting two fish
dishes which will be substantial
enough even if there are hearty ap
petites present. They can both be
as pretty as a picture to please the
ladies:
Shrimp Curry In Rice Ring.
(Serves 6)
3 tablespoons butter or fat
4 tablespoons flour
2 cups shrimp, fresh, cooked,
cleaned
Milk
2 teaspoons curry powder
4 cups cooked rice
Va cup dark corn syrup
Melt butter or fat; blend in flour.
Gradually add milk to flour mixture.
enougn 10 maxe
about 2 cup*
sauce. Cook, stir
ring constantly
until thickened.
Place over hot
water, add
shrimp Add cur
ry which has been mixed with a
little water. Combine rice with dark
corn syrup and pack firmly in a
quart mold. Set in a pan of water
and bake in a moderate oven for 20
minutes. To serve, unmold rice ring
and fill center with shrimp mixture.
Salmon Loaf.
(Serves 4 to 6)
2 cups steamed salmon, flanked
Vt cup bread crumbs
Vi cup milk
1 egg
1 traspoon salt
1 tablespoon butter, melted
To flaked salmon, add other In
gredients in order given. Grease loaf
pan and line with cut sweet pickle
slices. Pack salmon mixture into
this. Set in a shallow pan containing
water. Bake in a moderate oven
(375 degrees) about 1 hour or until
loaf is firm. Unmold onto hot plat
ter and garnish with parsley and
stuffed olives or pickle fans.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
^CLARK MCMEEKIN
THE STORY THUS FAR: While voyag
ing from England to America Lark Shan
non’s ship goes down. She Is cast upon an
Island, and Galt Withe, a bound servant,
i reicnes her. Lark Is mad* prisoner at
the Inn by Cony and Mag, who are hold
ing her for ransom. Lark trie* to run
away, but Cony catches her and she Is
locked In an attic. She escapes again and
Is found by David North, her lover, dis
guised as a gipsy. Galt arrives on th*
scene and agrees to get Lark to Norfolk,
but when they enter the boat they And
1 Cony concealed In It. The two men fight,
while the boat drifts back to the Inn.
Lark pleads with Dr. Matson to spar*
Galt’s life. Mafson, Gelt and Lark stall*
a trip to Ghost Island.
CHAPTER XIII
In this case, that wa* a mere the
atrical gesture, for every eye was
already following the slightest move
ment of his cat-like body, every
breath was clamped by the vise of
fear and unknown ascending horror.
With delicate quick precision he
drew his rapier from its slim Castil
ian sheath and stood on tiptoe, reach
ing up to the swinging figure.
Lark couldn’t have moved the tini
est muscle of her little finger if her
very life had depended on it.
The tip of the rapier caught the
firelight and gleamed like a silver
bead flung against the sun. It
reached up through the dark,
reached high till it found the hollow
beneath the chin of that pitiful,
swaying figure, and then slashed
downward with the quick and deli
cate exactness of a tiger’s claw.
The jacket fell back in a wider V.
Lark still did not understand. She
could not grasp what the point was
in this particular savagery and des
ecration. And then the body swung
a little into profile, and she saw the
swell of a woman’s breast, its round
ed, defenseless curve. Her eyes
studied the face once more, the
high cheek bones, the rounded chin.
Wildly she looked at Matson; took
hold of his arm and shook it, without
knowing what she was doing.
“Why,” Lark cried out, "it’s Dos
ta. Dosta!”
"Do you wonder that I laughed at
you, you little fool? It is amusing, is
it not?”
When Lark didn’t answer Matson
continued unabashed. "That thief
was David North, the man I loved!”
he mimicked her words In a high
falsetto voice. "That is a joke!”
He turned to the gipsies. "Laugh,
you dogs, laugh!”
Matson raised a slim white hand
and hushed it with a sharp gesture
of command.
One woman could not stop. She
swayed back and forth in a very
ecstasy of abandon, beyond all hu
man control or dignity. Her white
locks streamed to her shoulders and
her head rolled from side to side
in a spasmodic frenzy. "Dosta.”
she moaned, “Dosta, my dearie
own." A man beside her slapped her
open mouth hard with his big square
hand, and she stopped suddenly in
the midst of laughter, high and shrill
as the neighing of the little wild
island ponies.
The silence was thick as fog, per
vasive as the stench near the moun
tainous heaps of oyster shells which
dotted the lower beaches.
Matson let the silence lie there
like a heavy blanket, smothering
them for a long moment; then he
spoke aside to Lark, but loud enough
for the others to hear.
"Little liar,” he said, sitting down
on the ground beside her. "Pretty
little liar, I have one further test
for you. You failed rne signally at
first. Let us see what you will do
now."
He motioned to a gray-beard.
"Herne,” he said, "come here!"
and when the man bent down servile
ly. whispered a word In his ear.
The gipsy nodded sulkily and, with
obvious reluctance, went back to
his group and began to weed the
younger men out from the older
ones, lining them up in a row. Per
haps half a hundred stood there,
some cringing, some defiant.
Matson turned to Lark and smiled
in as friendly a fashion as if this
were a parlor game that was to be
played for her entertainment.
"Give me your hand, my dear,"
he said, and, when she didn’t com
ply, reached over and took it, plac
ing it in his lap, letting his slim
finger-tips rest delicately on the
pulse in her wrist.
“Now,” he continued in the casual.
Jocular tone of a master of cere
monies, “all of our possible Davids
will pass slowly in front of us. You
will say, as each goes by, 'That is
'not David North,' and I will know
by the throb of your pulse the one
particular time you are lying to me.
The first man in line paused in
front of them. It was Ginko, the
fiddler. He showed his white teeth
in a flashing smile. His eyes nar
rowed intimately, and there was a
provocative swagger to the swing
of his red cape, as he bowed low to
Lark.
"Fool," Matson said harshly,
"preserve your play-acting for a filly
of your own breed, this one is a
thoroughbred. . . . Say the words,
Lark, ‘That is not David,’ I demand
the password for this man, as for
each of the others that go by.”
"That is not David,” Lark said
in a low voice, her eyes straining
into the darkness so that she might
See the next in line and attempt to
discipline her quickening pulse.
The next man, she saw with re
lief, as he came forward into the
lighted circle, was scarcely more
than a lad, a lad obviously of the
English race, with skin as blond as
Galt's.
Matson smiled and his fingers on
her pulse grew lighter. "I know
that one,” he said. "He was stolen
by an old gipsy beldame when he
was a child on Exmoor heath. He’s
had chances enough to return to his
own people, but this is the only life
he knows or cares about. The pass
word quickly, Lark, and we will al
low him to move on ”
Lark gave it and glanced swiftly
at the figure next in line. It was
a man much like David’s build, who
wore the red raskall pulled down
low over his head, as if to shield the
lighted side of his face. Her heart
missed a beat and she felt the skip
in her pulse. The Spanish Cat’s
fingers tightened on her helpless
wrist.
The man’s rolling walk was like
David’s, too. Lark's breath short
ened in her chest. She had not the
strength of faith to pray. She be
gan to count to herself, her lips
forming the syllables slowly and un
certainly. One . . . two . . . three
. . . four . . . five ... six .. . seven.
By the seventh count she knew it
was not David. Her throbbing eyes
had tricked her into magnifying the
resemblance. She released her tor
turer! breath in a little choking gasp.
Matson’s tautened figure relaxed.
‘‘That gave you a turn, didn’t it?”
he asked pleasantly. "Now, at least,
I have in mind the general outline
of the traitor; broad-shouldered, well
“The little fool walked right into
the trap."
built, in the first strength of his
manhood. . . . I'll let you rest for a
moment, my dear, while I have a
word with Ginko. Don’t think you
can escape. I have but to give the
order. ..."
The next man was Chal. His face
was a mask of sullen and vindictive
anger. Lark was sobbing now, her
tears wetting her cheeks and falling
unheeded in her lap. Matson laughed
softly. “The likeness is remark
able, isn’t it? Dosta pleasured me
for a time on the Runny, but then
she got to be a nuisance, an in
quisitive little pickpocket, rifling my
portfolios and stealing the very jew
els out of my ears as I slept." His
free hand sought the lobe of his ear
and fingered the golden loop which
dangled from it.
“Naturally," he continued, “when
I found the lock on my brass-bound
box had been tampered with, I set
a watch, and the little fool walked
right into the trap. It was an easy
thing to have her dressed in her
brother'a clothes and string her up
to give me a little sport with you.”
When Lark made no answer, he
motioned for the line to proceed.
The next eight or nine passed swiftly
with no comment from either of the
watchers. Lark repeated the words,
"That is not David” each time, and
Matson’s finger on her pulse was
light, but steady.
At last there was only one more
man standing back there in the semi
darkness. That would be David; was
bound to be him.
The man drew nearer. It was not
David. The bulk of this man’s out
line loomed huge and rotund against
the golden background of the fire
light.
The Spanish Cat drew nearer to
Lark. She wrapped her cape tight
about her arms and breast and drew
back, standing a little distance from
him under the drooping branches of
the great oak tree.
Lark felt the world falling away
from her. A blessed blackness rose
to meet her mind and engulfed her.
Matson's voice was the last thing
she heard, Matson’s silky voice, say
ing pleasantly, “Ginko, the pretty
little bird has fainted. Take care
of her."
When Lark opened her eyes she
was in a tent and the white-haired
gipsy woman was bending over her.
The hanging light was dim and cast
grotesque shadows on the crimson
walls. The woman’s face was re
mote and passive, and yet there was
in it such suffering as Lark had nev
er seen.
Behind her stood Ginko and a tall
slim figure, red trousered and blue
Jacketed. Galt! Why it was Galt.
Truly it was!
“I was dreadfully frightened about
you, Galt. What happened?” Lark's
voice was a whisper.
“Those two slaves grabbed me on
the path and gagged me so I couldn’t
call out. They dragged me off to
the dungeon but I managed my way
out. Lark. The lock was old and
rusty and the guard didn’t cause me
much trouble.” He spoke with the
pride of his new manhood. “I found
Ginko, and he brought me here to
you. in Mother Egypt’s tent.”
“But what happened?” Lark
asked. “Where is Matson? Did he
find David? . . . Why, you are the
man who betrayed him, Ginko!” She
said with horror, drawing back from
him as the full realization of her
last memory came back to her.
Ths fiddler laughed softly. "Little
foolish one, that was a clever trick
on my part. I am so wise a man
that I desired for the Spanish Cat
to be distracted that I might be
able to get you away from him and
plan for your escape. Your David
has no more snake on his heel than
I have.”
"David has not been found?” Lark
repeated her question anxiously, her
eyes going from Ginko’s face to
Galt’s. She was still not altogether
certain of Ginko, but knew that
Galt’s word could be trusted im
plicitly.
“No,” Galt said briefly. "They’ve
been beating the bushes for the last
half hour, but have come on no
sign of him. The shout would have
gone up, had they done so.”
“My daughter was a princess,”
the woman who watched her said in
a proud and sorrowful tone. “Dosta
is dead and God, Himself, can not
bring her back to me. In her name
I have befriended you. The horse is
waiting. You must make haste.”
"The horse? Red Raskall?” Lark
glanced at Galt.
“It is arranged,” Galt said, “I am
to ride him. I know where he is
stalled. There is only one guard on
duty. The little black mare, Dos
ta’s namesake, is to be yours, Lark.”
“Wait,” the woman whispered,
raising a detaining hand. “Here
are Dosta’s clothes. Let this girl
put them on. If she is seen then,
she will pass in the darkness for
one of our band.”
Ginko said, “I will make sure
there is no one about,” and with
quiet care slit the back of the tent.
He and Galt slipped through the
opening.
Outside Galt was waiting with
Ginko, who flashed his shaded lan
tern for a moment on her figure
and nodded as if satisfied when he
saw that Dosta’s clothes fitted her
well enough, and that she had twist
ed a red raskall completely over
her golden curls. In the moonlight
her white skin and blue eyes were
scarcely noticeable. She might have
passed, at a casual glance, for any
of the gipsy girls.
Galt smiled at Lark admiringly
and whispered, "It will be safer if
we separate. I’ll go to the stables
and get Red Raskall, while you and
Ginko get the mare. I’ll meet you
beyond the corral.”
Ginko nodded and hurried Lark
around the corner of the castle. No
one was in sight now, though off to
the left they could hear the men
pursuing the search, calling back
and forth to one another, as they
came on broken branches or foot
prints in the undergrowth.
After another careful hundred
yards or so, they reached the corral
where the gipsies’ horses could be
seen in the moonlight. Mostly they
were sorry enough looking beasts,
with hanging heads and uncurried
manes but, even in the moonlight,
the beauty of the one little black
mare could be seen. She was lying
asleep by herself in a far comer of
the paddock and they unlatched the
gate and went softly to her. In
stantly, at their approach, she was
on her feet, with quivering nostrils
and rolled-back, startled eyes.
Ginko gentled her with a soothing
hand and a soft-spoken word, as
she tossed her head and flung back
her mane. She was small-boned
and daintily made. Her coat had
the fineness of shining satin. Lark’s
hand stroked the arching neck. She
whispered, ‘‘Dosta,” in the pricked
ear as the lovely creature, feeling
a strange hand on her, shied and
danced.
Her bridle and flne embroidered
blanket and saddle hung near her
on the limb of a tree. Ginko reached
for them and, with tender, caress
ing words, had her ready in a mo
ment, cupping Lark's foot in his
hand as she mounted. He slapped
the mare softly on the flank as he
led her through the gate toward
Galt, who was waiting there on Red
Raskall.
Galt was smiling. “Good news
for you. Lark,*’ he said gently. “I
found an empty stall and the groom
lying there unconscious. David’s
got away.”
"Oh, Galt, are you sure?”
“Nobody else would have taken
a horse tonight. He's had the start
of an hour on us, perhaps.”
“Can we catch up with him? Oh,
Galt, do you think we could? IV
feel so much better to know for
sure.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERNS '
Well-Fitting Slip for Matrons
Tots Will Love This Party Dress
ft
Slenderizing Slip
npHE built-up shoulder on this
slip makes it especially nice for
the slightly heavier figure. Waist
line darts are slimming and make
it fit satin-smooth. Tailored panties
to match.
• • •
Pattern No. 1281 is designed for sizes
36, 38, 40, 42. 44 , 46 , 48 . 50 and 52. Size
38, ensemble, built-up shoulder, requires
4'/g yards of 35 or 39-inch material.
Turn the mattress every week,
first from end to end, next from
side to side to get maximum wear
and comfort from it.
—•—
Dental floss is fine for mending
elastic, because it wears so long.
Take care in mending that tiny
rubber threads are not damaged.
Sew between them.
—•—
To remove rust from nickel,
grease well with any kind of lubri
cant, let stand for a few minutes,
then rub with cloth soaked in am
monia. Rinse with water and pol
ish.
—•—
Daddy’s worn-out shirts can be
made over into cunning blouses,
dresses or suits for the one-year
old, provided a little trimming
and imagination are used.
—•—
After oiling the sewing machine,
stitch through a blotter several
times. This takes up all surplus
oil on the machine, and keeps from
getting it on the material.
—•—
An easy way to give ferns their
weekly watering is to place them
in the bathtub, draw shower cur
tain and turn on the shower, ad
justing spray until it is about room
temperature.
Tot’s Party Frock
A PRETTY party frock for a
** very young lady. The neck
line, side button closing and pocket'
are daintily edged in contrasting
ruffle or lace. Make this for “Sun
day best’’ in gay dotted swiss, or
gandy or dimity—for school in
sturdy striped or checked fabrics.
* » •
Pattern No. 1308 is designed for sizes 3,
4. 5, 6. 7 and 8 years. Size 4 requires l3,4
yards of 35 or 39-inch material, 1 yard
machine-made ruffling plus 2',4 yards
binding to trim as pictured.
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERN DEPT.
530 South Wells St. Chicago
Enclose 25 cents in coins for each
pattern desired.
Pattern No.Size.
Name.
Address.
Po“9hnU^ |
j|
OOUOHNU 3tablespoons butter or I
v. viplschmann's Yeast margarine f§
11 tablespoon MJgj^ &nd c00led ^ teaspoon salt I
butter or rnargar imng flow to m Cover and k thick.
S'i.SSghnuicut»; gsfSi m «P «• 0“t
«*■'•MaBS__
only once. Drain, o _^
) Hew Revised Wartime Edition of Fleischmann’s Famous Recipe Book I
Clip and paste on a penny
post card for your free copy Name_
of Fleischmann's newly re
vised "The Bread Basket.”
Dozens of easy recipes for Address_ -
breads, rolls, desserts. Ad
dress Standard Brands In
corporated, Grand Central ——■ - -—
Annex, Box 477, New York
17, N. Y. _Zona No..__
— _ mm mm mm mm mm mm — — — -— — — — — — — «X
