ould do
for the other.

Wallie got out his cook book and turned eagerly to the index. There was
no mention of rabbit. A thought struck him--rabbit was hare and hare
was rabbit, wasn't it? If so, the cook book would not admit it, for
there was no such word under the H's.

He was disgusted. What good was such a cook book, he asked himself as he
turned the leaves in resentment. He wished he could collect the
two-fifty he had paid for it. He read aloud, sneeringly:

"Caviar toast, garnished. Crab, scalloped, in shell. Aspic in jelly.
Fondu of cheese. Floating Island. Meringue glace, and Whipped Cream."

The mere mention of the dishes made his mouth water, while his anger
against the dame who had compiled it mounted higher. He remotely
contemplated writing to inquire of the culinary oracle why she had
ignored hare and rabbit.

Continuing to scan the index, his eye caught a word which held
possibilities. Game! If rabbit was not game, what was it?

Ah! Wallie looked at a picture of a rabbit lying on a platter with its
legs in the air and artistically decorated with parsley until he felt
more hungry than ever. Then he read aloud with gusto:

"Barbecued rabbit. Casserole of rabbit. Roast rabbit. Smothered rabbit.
Stewed rabbit."

He perused all the recipes carefully. After giving weighty consideration
to each, roast rabbit seemed to make the strongest appeal to him. He
read the recipe aloud twice that he might the better comprehend it:

"Dress and wash the wily _coureur de bois_, but leave the heads on in
cleaning them. Stuff the bodies with a forcemeat of fat, salt pork,
minced onions, and fine bread crumbs well seasoned with salt and
pepper. Sew them up with fine thread and lay upon thin slices of pork,
covering the grating of the roaster. Lay other slices of pork over them,
pour over all a cupful of stock, and roast one hour. Remove the pork,
then wash with butter and dredge with flour and brown.

"Drain off the gravy, lay the bits of bacon about the rabbit in the
dish: thicken the gravy with browned flour. Boil up, add a tablespoonful
of tomato catsup and a glass of claret, then take from the fire."

Wallie reflected, as he sat with his feet on the stove-hearth
overflowing with ashes, that when it came to the "forcemeat" he was
"there with the crumbs," since he had an accumulation of ancient biscuit
too hard to eat. Also he had salt pork and onions. The butter, tomato
catsup, stock, claret, he must dispense with