5 D
Special Page for The Omaha Bee's Busy Little Honey-Makers
THE OMAHA SUNDAY BEE: NOVEMBER 25. 1917.
By RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON,
Things had been so so in the garret
no special news and everything
about as usual, as Timmy Twitchet
had written the very day I'm think
ing of to his friend, Bobby Grey.
Snugly housed as Timmy was, he
could not help admitting to him
self that a dollhouse is big and
lonely for a bachefor mouse, how
ever comfortable it may be. Sp jt
was a great relief when he received
a letter from his cousins, the Tom
riy Field Mouses, to spend Thanks
giving with them on their farm.
It was quite a journey,, and as the
mouse train runs only at night, it
took, some time for Timmy ,to go
from the top of the house to the big
field back of the barn. Jumping off
the last train he walked briskly
along, picturing to himself the line
dinner that would be waiting for
liim, and the merry greeting of his
young cousins, whom he had ;iot
-seen for several years.
Walking under the fence, Tommy
entered the field, : It was a bright,
clear moonlight night and every
thing stood. out distinctly. "Mouse
ears, tails, whiskers and cat paws!"
cried Timmy Twitchet, running
forward. No wonder. Gone was the
little1 mouse village, ,and all its tiny
chimneyed cottages; Gone, the little
country market and the mill, every
thing was gone. In dismay Timmy
stared around him; the whole field.
, was tossed into big. high, mountain
ous ridges. It had been pldwed
up and devastation brought upon
the little mouse world. '
Timmy sat down on a rock and
took out his handkerchief. It' was
all so sudden. 1&is field had lain
idle for five years to his certain
knowledge. Dimly to Iris recollec
tion came a bit of news read long
ago in the Mousey Post about the
two legs cultivating all waste land.
"This war is terrible," moaned Tim
my. For a long time, too overcome
to move, he looked out upon the
melancholy ruin.
A mole limped hurriedly past, but
'I immy was" too overcome to ques
tion him. At last, however, he re
covered a decree of composure and
picking up his hat and bag began
climbing over the huge masses of
earth to where Tommy's house had
stood. A faint hope of finding
someone alive arose when he saw
the red chimney poking its nose
from the side of a furrov?. Throw
ing off his coat and using a piece of
stick for a shovel, Timmy dug away
for dear life. After an hour's labor
,he had uncovered the whole, chim
ney. , He tried to peer dd'vSi, but
everything was pitch dark. He was .
just going to jump off and. rest,
when a faint halloo sounded up the .
chimney.
"Who's there?" called Timmy,
iretfibling with excitement. A- faint
cry answered him then silence.
Redoubling his efforts. U16 little
mouse dug furiously and finally suc
ceeded in uncovering he attic win
dow. ' Breaking, the window ' and
lighting the night lamp that every
mouse always carries for emergen
cies, Timmy stepped into the
crushed and buried cottage. (
Feeling his way cautiously, he
Little tons-By
(Prize Story.) . '
Dickie's Dog. '
By Ruby Craft, David City, Neb.
Blue Side.
You thought Dickie was a boy,
didn't you? Well, she isn't; she's a
girl, and a very patriotic one at that.
Brother Bert was going to camp
and as her patents were both dead
and they had no relatives, it was de
cided to take her with him. But what
to do with her' after she was there
was another question.
"I must have my Billy' said Dickie.
On arriving there, Bert said, "Dick,
I can't take you with me."
"I know it," answered Dickie
shortly.
"Hello, Bert," said his friend. ''Why.
what are you going to do with her?"
exclaimed Tom in surprise.
"I don't know, only"
"Say! there's a lady near our tamp
who would adopt her and take good
care of her, too," broke in Tom.
"Would you, like Mo live there?"
asked Bert. .' ' '
"Yes," answered Dickie.
A week later a soldier came in the
yard of Dickie's new home. She was
teaching Billy a new trick, which he
seemed to learn very rapidly. -
"Say, he would make a dandy Red
Cross dog," exclaimed the man after
watching him a few moments.
"Would her asked Drckie,
-yes, ana irom wnai i near incy
- . , .1
need dogs badly. You should help
vour country. I think that is a fine
way," he said, pointing to Dickie's ie-
loved dog
"But, oh! I couldn't give up, my
dog why, he's all I have of my real
own," gasped Dickie. -
Dickie spent a sleepless night. She
wanted to help like Bert. Now her
chance had come and she didn't like it
About morning a very sleepy'Dickie
had settled the troublesome question,
for the next day, with tears in her
ayes, she gave her Billy away.
(Honorable Merftion.)
A Disobedient Boy.
By Blanche Lindholm, Aged 11 Years,
Box 215, Osceola, Neb. Blue Side.
Tommy was a very naughty boy.
He had been playing with matches
one morning and when his mother
found it out she said, "Tommy, the
next time yon play with matches you
will be sorry for it." Tommy prom
ised his mother he would never do it
gain- , " i .
That afternoon Tiis mother went
over to see one of her sick friends.
Some of Tommy's friends came over
tj play and the boys thought it would
e fun to make a bonfire and roast
some apples. "Go in and get some
matches, Tom," said one of the boys.
"No," said Tommy, "mother said I
"off T Mummy
reached the lower floors. Some of
the rooms were impassable, the
walls having fallen 'in, but the par
lor was practically untouched, save
for broken ornaments. Blinking in
the dim light Timmy held his lan
tern high and looked around. Then
he gave a little cry, for lying on the
sofa with closed eyes was a limp
little lady mouse.
That first look told Timmy three
things, that she was very' young,
very pretty and very weak from her
experiences. He found some water in
the kitchen, and with that help
brought the little creature to. She
told him that his cousins were not
in the house at the time of the
earthquake, and that she, who was
visiting them, was keeping house
until their return. The very men
tion of the catastrophe threw her
into' a chill, and Timmy, seeing
that this was no time for explana
tions, helped her to her feet and
half carrying her brought her to the
top of the house, out of the attic
window into the ruined field.
By easy stages Timmy helped her
to the edge of the field. It was quite
useless, they had mournfully agreed,
to seek his relatives further, for they
had undoubtedly perished. The
pluck and courage with which the
little lady met the situation made a
great impression upon Timmy.
And trudging along the two soon
were telling one another all man
ner of things. Timmy could not
help touching upon his fine house,
and his lonely condition, and she,
in turn, told him that she was an
orphan, but "I was just appointed
to teach in the country mouse
school when this happened," she
finished, sadly, and inquired about
the openings for a domestically
inclined mouse girl in the city. (The
house was, of course, the mouse's
city.)
By this time they had come to the
train and Timmy begged her to al
low him to accompany her to her
friends. At this the little mouse
.choked up and admitted that she
bad none in the city. Three tears
rolled down her cheeks and the
sight so unnerved Timmy, already
wrought up by the evening's exptr-.
iences, that he proposed to her upon
the spot and was accepted.
Although considerably subdued by
the dreadful events of the night, I
cannot say that the journey back to
the attic was an unhappy one. Stop
ping for Timmy's old aunt, who
lived in the pantry, the three made
their way to the house, in the at
ticThe little orphan lady was so
enchanted with her new domicile
that she accepted Timmy all over
again. Timmy called the parson on
the telephone and arrangements
were -made for the wedding next
day. And as if that were not enough
happiness for him, who should turn
up on that joyful occasion but the
country cousins,, who, warned in
time, had 'fled to the city. What
explanations and what feasting and
frolicking followed. The dollhouse
rang with merriment, and as for
Timmy and his wife, they are living
happily there to this very day, ana
what a housekeeper he had won in
the little country orphan and how
the' city mouse girls envied her.
Lfittl Folks
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paper only and number the pace.
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be uied.
5. Write your name, ace and addres
at the top of the firit page.
A prise book will be given eacfc week
for the best contribution.
Addremt all communication! to Chll-
dren'a Department, Omaha Bee, Omaha,
Neb. -
should not play with matches any
more." "Oh, she will never know it;
we will make it behind the shed, and
she never goes back there."
At last Tom went into the house
and got a handful of matches.
The boys gathered some wood and
brought it back of the shed. When
the fire was started one of the boys
said, "Now, where will we get the
apples?" "dver in Mr. Smith's or
chard," said another. "Well," said
Tom, slowly, "twt you know what
Mr. Smith said the other day." But
the rest said, "Aw, come on; we don't
care."
. By the time the boys had reached
the orchard the wood was burning
f-iefr V7Vim thir returner! witVi tnpir
BOV. HIVJ . ,.fc. ...... .......
arm3 uU o appies, one of the boys
said, "Look! the shed is on fire t" Tom
almost shook out of his boots. What
would his mother and father do to
him? There was no time to waste.
They must call for help. But three
men had already seen it and were
hurrying towards it with buckets of
water to put the fire out. Just then
Tom's mother and father came home.
When they saw what had happened
they called Tom into the house and
his mother said, "Tommy, didn't I tell
you never to play with matches
again? " Tommy didn't say anything.
He was almost too frightened to
move. , ''
Pcior Tommy was sent to bed at 5
o'clock, without any supper, and as
he went to sleep he said to himself,
"I will never play with matches
again." And he never did.
Papa's Truck.
By Georgia Zorh, Aged 12 Years,
Route 4, Harrisburg, Neb.
Red Side.
My Dear Busy Bees: I saw my let
ter in print and thought I would
write another story.
The name of my story is "When
Papa Cot His Truck."
My papa went to Kimball and
bought his new truck and went to the
lumber company and bought" some
Apt YOTBgstos Kmt fop
tihip Sammies inn Fraunic
r v r f JV j? v L
Left to right: Lois Hindman, Dorothy Henry, George Turley, Mary Beth
Wallace, Dorothy Austin, William Monahan and Josephine Mach.
HERE are the little friends of Dorothy Clare Henry, only 6 years old,
whom she entertained at a knitting party at ner home Saturday
afternoon. Dorothy's mother, Mrs. C. A. Henry, showed her how
to knit a scarf, and Dorothy thought it so much fun she wanted all
her little friends to learn how to knit, too. So she invited them
boys and girls both to a party at her house and mother showed them all
how to handle the long needles.
If you think they were not apt pupils, examine the picture carefully and
you will see how much they knitted that first afternoon 1 The little girls
expect to get a lot of knitting done to keep our Sammies warm this winter.
lumber and started home and when
he got pretty nearly home, Ray got
the Ford and we got Alice jb. Cross
and Nellie Shively and went to meet
him.
Then when we came back to town
we went down the road and back up
town and then we rode around the
square' and went up past the. high
school and Miss Shively drove the
car back. Then we took Alice home
and came up home and I got out of
the car and Ray took the car into
the garage and went with papa to un
load the truck.
This is a true story.
Your friend, G. Z.
P. S. I would like some little boy
or girl to write me.
A Narrow Escape.
By Harel Karker, Aged U Years,
Alexandria, Neb. Blue Side.
When we lived in Colorado papa
was working on his cement tank one
day when he saw a chicken hawk. He
told oue of us girls to run in the house
and get the shotgun and he would
shoot the hawk. We did, so papa shot
the hawk. - . ,
Afterwards he put the gun on the
cement tank and told us girls to leave
it alone because it was loaded.
That afternoon papa went to town
and left my cousin and us girls and
mamma at home alone.
While he was gone my cousin got
the gun down and was fooling with it.
We girls went out there where he
was. Zazel, my sister, got right in
front of the gun. He happened to
pull the trigger and the gun went off
and shot a hole in Zazel'a dress. It
scared her so that she did not know
what to do.
I ran into the house and told mam
ma that Zazel was shot. Mamma
came running out there where we
were and of course when she got out
there she found out that she was not
shot.
When papa came home that night I
told him about it. He gave my cousin
a good scolding that night and he
never touched that gun again.
' This is a true story.
This is the first time I have written
to the Busy Bees. I hope to see my
letter in print
A Hallowe'en Party.
By Eva Adams, Aged 13 Years, Wol
bach, Neb. Blue Side.
The night after Hallowe'en, the
Sunday school girls in our class and
our Sunday school teacher had a
party. It was in the basement in
our church. We had an awful good
time. When we first went there
we all dressed in masks and some of
them had on old dresses. Then we
played games; we played blind man's
buff, going to the old countjy and
other games. There were 17 girls and
our teacher; her name is Miss Minnie
Mclntyre. We like her fine. After we
had played games for a long time,
they brought a tub of water and put
apples in it and we got down and got
them with our mouths, I got two.
Wc had turned out the light and
played by the light of the candles in
the jack-o-lanterns. Then we ate
candy, nuts, cookies, pumpkin pie.
Then we looked for walnuts. Miss
Mclntyre had taken English walnuts
and opened them, then put little notes
in them and put them back together:
then she hid them and we huntea
them. I got two. Then we played
more games and went home. I had a
very nice time.
Wc had a box social and program
at our school house the night before
Hallowe'en and we made $24.85.
Two of My Pets.
By Ethel Mae Kudma, Bie, Neb.
Blue Side.
I have two pets that I like very
much. They are a dog and a cat.
My cat's name is Tommy Fluffy. Iw
is a maltese and very pretty. He
likes to play very much. He will play
with a feather, a cob or a blade of
grass, or anything. He is about a
year old. I got him from my grand
ma. My dog's name is Dodo. He's
brown. He isn't very big. He is
about 6 years old. Sometimes I
dress them up in my doll clothes and
take them out for a ride.
Dear Busy Bees, I wish some of
you would write to me. I've been
sick, so I can't go out doors, because
I'm going to have my tonsils taken
out.
Has Soldier Brother.
Martha Cejnar, 1427 South Fifteenth
Street, Omaha, Neb. Red Side.
To the Busy Bees: This is my
first letter. I have two brothers. One
is a soldier and the other carries The
Bee. I am 8 years old and go to
Comenius school, . in the Second
grade. I have a good teacher, her
name is Miss Myers. Last year my
brother had seven white rabbits and
one black one. They were all killed
by dogs.
How I Help Mother.
By Marian Talcott, Aged 10 Years,
McClelland, la. Red Side.
On Saturday I help my mother by
washing a few clothes, washing and
wiping the'dishes, sweep the kitchen
and (dining room floor.
My mother husks corn instead
of having to pay. 10 cents a bushel to
have a hired man husk it, then throw
half of it over the wagon and not
(ick it up.
So then it is my time to work on
Saturday. I do as much as I can in the
forenoon and in the afternoon some
of my schoolmates come and play
with me. I don't have to stay home
all by myself, though. I have a
brother and a sister. My sister is too
small to do much and, of oourse,
every girl knows how it is to have a
boy around. All they do is to make
more work, but mine helps me. He
gets the potatoes and he either
washes or wipes the dishes, but in
the spring he gets some plow wheels,
a rake and a hoe. He gets his pock
ets filled with corn and then he hoes
and rakes and runs the old wheel
around, but he don't want anybody
to be with him. I hope to see my let
ter in print. If I do I will write again.
"The Golden Wedding."
By Martha Bird, Aged 12, Weeping
Water, Neb., R. F. D. No. 2.
Blue Side.
This is the first time I have writ
ten to the Busy Bee page.
Two years ago, the twenty-eighth
day of March, was my grandparents'
golden wedding. ' My little brother
was four years old that day, so they
celebrated his birthday and the
golden wedding on the same day.
About 12 o'clock they were remar
ried. One of the neighbor girls and
I were ribbon bearers. My little
cousin was ring bearer. My little
brother was flower bearer.
About 1 o'clock we ate dinner. We
had many good things to eat. In the
afternoon we had punch and wafers.
About 5 o'clock we went home. We
all had a good time that day.
A Stormy Night it Home.
By Helen Crabb, Aged 10 Years, 4016
North Thirty-fourth Avenue.
Omaha. Red Side.
Well, Busy Bees, do you like a
stormy night? I do, because I like to
hear the rain patter on the roof.
After supper I help mother with
the dishes and then play a few games.
And then my brother and my sister
listen whiff I read the paper.
We then cut out funny faces and
other curious things which make my
mother and father laugh.
When mother says, "Bedtime," we
get undressed, say our prayers and
then it's good night, Busy Bees, .and
all the rest of the world.
Busy Bees, write to me. I will be
glad to answer them.
My First Letter.
By Paul Crosby, Aged 10 Years,
Sutherland, Neb. Blue Side.
I have never written before, bat
now I will. I want to join the Blue
Side. I have a pony that I ride to
school. I lis name is Dandy. I ride
about a mile and a- half to school.
I am in the fourtn grade and my
teacher's name is Miss Bird.
Will close and will write again.
Hope I see my letter in the paper.
' Kaiser Bill.
By Evelyn Leona Boynton, Aged 9
Years, Sidney, la. Red Side.
Kaiser Bill went up the hill
To take a shot at France.
Kaiser Bill came down the hill.
He fell into a trance.
At last he awoke
And found it no joke
For freedom reigns from shore to
shore.
The kings and queens ruled no
more.
Freedom's banner was flying high.
From every country under the sky.
My Own Dear Flag.
By Arlovine Ring, Age 10, 915 West
Avenue, Holdrege, Neb.
Red Side.
I have never written you a letter
before. I received the Busy Bee's
page every Sunday and I thought I
would like to be a Busy Bee member.
I don't think we ought to have any
Christmas, add send it all to the Bel
gian people, for they are starving. I
think it would be nice if we could
Mdatook
Six Years Old Tomorrow (Nov. 26:)
Name. School.
Jonescheit, Emma Highland
Seven Years Old Tomorrow:
Houghton, Raymond P. Wal. Hill
Mitchell, Clyde Castelar
Muir, Leora Elmira. .Central Park
Oliver, Louis Lincoln
Seldomridge, Harriet Helen.. Lake
Eight Years Old Tomdrrow:
Brice, Ward Mason
Circo, Mary Train
Foltz, Alice Webster
Fuller, Vivian V Long
Laharty, Loretta Kellom
Nocita, Sam Pacific
Smith, Louise Windsor
Nine Years Old Tomorrow:
Foral, Agnes Mary.. St. Wenceslaus
Tuska, Charles .Lincoln
Otis, Thelma V Lothrop
Plummer, Carroll V Columbian
Stastny, Cecelia H'Sami
Walters, Myrtle Fays Franklin
divide our homes with the Belgian
people and make them happy.
I Love the Soldier Boys.
Let's give our help to the boys m
blue, ' ,
It's help for me and it's help for you.
A Liberty loan bond our country
needs,
To help the boys in the trenches
deep.
Love to all Busy Bees.
Jessie Hike, Bellcvue, Neb. Red Side.
Dear Editor: l am sending a poem,
and hope I win the prize. My friend
is also writing and I thought I would
put it in her letter
Fall. The autumn leaves are falling,
The trees are all bare.
The snow is falling fast,
The birds are witnout care.
Thanksgiving.
T am coiner to have a eood dinner,
The best I ever had,
Mincemeat pie and cranberry sauce,
That isn't very bad.
Minnie Flax, Bellevue, Neb. Red Side.
Dear Editor: Beine the. first time
I have written to your Busy Bee page,
I hope to see my letter in print. As
you will notice, my friend is also writ
ting. I am sending you a poem I
made up.
Thanksgiving. m
Urn, tink of de dinna on TanksgivnY
Um, it'liW much betta dan rough
' play.
We's going to have cranberry sauce
- and apple pie.
Tip.Mltaiiltaturos .'
fint chapter from "Wonderful land
of Oi," by L. Frank Baum.
In the country of the Gillikins,
which is at the north of the Land of
Or, lived a youth called Tip. Ther
was more to his name than that, for
old Mombi often declared that his
whole nan?e was Tippetarius; but no
one was expected to say such a long
work when "Tip" would do just as
well.
This boy remembered nothing of
his parents, for he had been brought
when quite young to be reared by the
old woman known as Mombi, whose
reputation, I am sorry to say, was
none of the best. For the Gillikin'
people had reason to suspect her of
indulging in magical arts, and there
fore hesitated to associate with her.
Mombi was not exactly a Witch,
because the Good Witch who ruled
that part of the Land of Oz had for
bidden any other Witch to exist in
her dominions. So Tip's guardian,
however much she might aspire to
working magic, realized it was un
lawful to be more than a Sorceress,
or at most a Wizardess.
Tip was made to carry wood from
the forest, that the old woman might
boil her pot He also worked in
the cornfields, hoeing and husking;
and he fed the pigs and milked the
four-horned cow that was Mombi's
especial pride.
But you must not suppose he
worked all the time, for he felt that
woud be bad for him. When sent
to the forest Tip often climbed trees
for birds' eggs or amused himself
chasing the fleet white rabbits or
fishing in the brooks with bent pins.
Then he would hastily gather his
armful of wood and carry it home.
And when he was supposed to be
working in the cornfields, and the
tall stalks hid him from Mombi's
view, Tip would often dig in ( the
gopher holes, or if the mood seized
him lie upon his back between the
rows of corn and take a nap. So, by
taking care not to exhaust his
strength, he grew as strong and
rugged as a boy may be.
Mombi's curious magic often
frightened her neighbors, and they
treated her shyly, yet respectfully,
because of her weird powers. But
Tip frankly hated her, and took no
pains to hide his feelings. Indeed, he
sometimes showed less respect for
the old woman than he should have
done, considering she was , his
guardian.
There were pumpkins in Mombi's
cornfields, lying golden red among
the rows of green stalks; and these
had been planted and carefully tended
that the four-horned cow might eat
of them in the winter time. But one
day, after the corn had all, been cut
and stacked, and Tip was carrying
the pumpkins to the stable, he took
a notion to make a "jack lantern"
and try to give the old woman a
fright with it.
So he selected a fine, big pumpkin
one with a lustrous, orange-red
color and began carving it. With
the point of his knit he made two
round eyes, a three-cornered nose,
and a. mouth shaped like a new
moon. The face, when completed,
Ten-year-old May Squires of Ash
land likes to write poetry. She has
written a number of original poems.
She has named this little verse "Blue
bird." "I know a naughty bluebird
Who lives high in a tree;
No siree, there's nothin' betta for you
and I.
We's goin' to chop off de turkey
head
An' in de oven he'll have his bed.
We's goin' to eat right outa de plate
An for dat Tanksgivin' dinna
I ain't goin' to be late.
In.'
If ' 4 v J
. f VS S A w PnZs v. u
V " 'dl&Vl im if' I
A Piimpldiralkeadl
could not have been considered
strictly beautiful; but it wore a mile
so big and broad, and was so jolly
ii: expression, that even Tip laughed
as he looked admiringly at his work.
The child had no playmates, stf he
did not know that boys often dig
out the inside of a "pumpkinjack,
and in the space thus made put a
lighted candle to render the face
more startling; but he conceived an
idea of his own that promised to be
quite as effective, lie decided to
manufacture the form of a man, who
would wear this pumpkiuhcad, and
to stand it in a place where old
Mombi would meet it face to face.
"And then," said Tip to himself,
with a laugh, "she'll squeal louder
than the brown pig does when I pull
her tail, and shiver with fright worse
than I did last year when 1 had the
ague I"
He had plenty of time to ac
complish this task, for Mombi had
gone to a villageto buy groceries,
she said and it was a journey of at
least two days.
So he took his axe to the forest,
and selected some stout, straight
saplings, which he cut down and
trimmed of all their twigs and leaves
From these he would make the arms,
and legs, and feet of his man. For
the body he stripped a sheet of thick
bark from around a big tree, and with
much labor fashioned it into a
cylinder of about the right size, pin
ning the edges together with wooden
pegs. Then, whistling happily as he
worked, he carefully jointed the limbs
and fastened them to the body with
pegs whittled into shape with his
knife.
By this time this feat had been ac
complished it began to grow dark,
and. Tip remembered he must milk
He's always into mischief,
But he's happy as can be.
His mother never whips him,
Nor tells him what to do,
Now, if your mother didn't care,
I'll bet you'd be naughty too."
the cow and feed the pigs. So 'he
picked up his wooden man and car
ried it back to the house with him.
During the evening, by the-, light
of the1 fire in the kitchen, Tip care
fully rounded all the edges of the
joints and smoothed the rough places
in a neat and workmanlike manner.
Then he stood the figure up against
the wall and admh-ed it ". It seemed,
remarkably tall, even for i full grown1
man; but that was a good point in a
small boy's eyes, and Tip did not ob
ject at all to the size of his creation.
Next morning, when he looked at
bis work again, Tip saw he had for
gotten to give the dummy a neck, by
means of which he might fasten the
pumpkinhead to the body. So he
went again to the (orest, which was
not far away, and chopped from a
tree several pieces of wood with
which to complete hit work. When
he returned he fastened a cross-piece
to the upper end of the body, mak
ing a hole through the center to hold
upright the neck. t The bit of wood
which formed this 'neck was also
sharpened at the upper end, and when
all was ready Tip put on the
pumpkin head, pressing it well down
onto the neck, and found that it fit
ted very well. The head could be
turned to one side or the other, as
he pleased, and the hinges of the
arms and ti allowed him to place
the dummy in any position he desired. '
"Now, that," declared Tip, proudly,
"it really a very fine man, and it x
ought to frighten several screeches
out of old Mombi I But it would be
much more Hfelike if it were properly
dresse-'."
To find clothing seemed no easy
task; but Tip boldly ransacked the
great diet,': in which Mombi kept all
her keepsakes and treasures, and at
the very bottom lie discovered some
purple trousers, a red shirt and a
pink vest which was dotted with
white spots. These he carried away
to hit man and succeeded, although
the garments did not fit very well, m
dtessing the creature in a jaunty
fashion. Some knit stockings be
longing to Mombi and a much worn
pair of his own shoes completed tn ,
man's apparel, and Tip was so de
lighted that he danced up and down
and laughed aloud in boyish ecstacy.
'"I must give him a namel" he
cried. "So good a man as this must
surely have a name. I believe," he '
added, after a moment's thought, "I
will name the fellow 'Jack Pumpkin
head!" (Continued Next Sunday)
To Use Up Stale Bread
In most houses there is by the end
of each week an accumulation of stale
bread which, unless some use can be
found for it, must be thrown awav
and wasted, but if reasonable care is
taken there need be no such thing
as waste in the bread pan.
Place all the crusts in the oven
when it is not required for baking
purposes, allow them to remain there
until quite dry, then press with a
rolling pin until they are quite fine,
and when cold store in a tin. Thev
can then be used for frying fish, cut
lets, etc. v
Stale slices"of bread can be made
into isavory toast and served for
breakfast or tea, and an excellent
children's pudding can be made from
odd pieces. Heat one-half pint of
milk, break up any stale bread into
a basin, add one tablespoon of sugar,
pour over it the milk and beat up
with a fork, then add two well beaten
eggs. Grease a mold, spread straw
berry jam on the bottom, pour in the
bread mixture and steam for an hour.
Experienced ironers can generally
tell the proper heat of an iron by hold
ing it up to the face, but a better test
is to run the iron over a piece of pa
per, and if it scorches the paper, it
would also scorch the fabric .