larder was not,
after all, an open market, and that one's provisions must be especially
ordered to fit one's needs. As to ordering them now--Billy glanced at
the clock and shook her head.

"It's almost five, already, and they'd never get here in time," she
sighed regretfully. "I'll have to have something else."

Billy looked now, not for what she wanted, but for what she could find.
And she found: some cold roast lamb, at which she turned up her nose; an
uncooked beefsteak, which she appropriated doubtfully; a raw turnip and
a head of lettuce, which she hailed with glee; and some beets, potatoes,
onions, and grapefruit, from all of which she took a generous supply.
Thus laden she went back to the kitchen.

Spread upon the table they made a brave show.

"Oh, well, I'll have quite a dinner, after all," she triumphed, cocking
her head happily. "And now for the dessert," she finished, pouncing on
the cookbook.

It was while she was turning the leaves to find the pies and puddings
that she ran across the vegetables and found the word "beets" staring
her in the face. Mechanically she read the line below.

"Winter beets will require three hours to cook. Use hot water."

Billy's startled eyes sought the clock.

Three hours--and it was five, now!

Frenziedly, then, she ran her finger down the page.

"Onions, one and one-half hours. Use hot water. Turnips require a long
time, but if cut thin they will cook in an hour and a quarter."

"An hour and a quarter, indeed!" she moaned.

"Isn't there anything anywhere that doesn't take forever to cook?"

"Early peas--... green corn--... summer squash--..." mumbled Billy's dry
lips. "But what do folks eat in January--_January_?"

It was the apparently inoffensive sentence, "New potatoes will boil in
thirty minutes," that brought fresh terror to Billy's soul, and set her
to fluttering the cookbook leaves with renewed haste. If it took _new_
potatoes thirty minutes to cook, how long did it take old ones? In vain
she searched for the answer. There were plenty of potatoes. They were
mashed, whipped, scalloped, creamed, fried, and broiled; they were made
into puffs, croquettes, potato border, and potato snow. For many of
these they were boiled first--"until tender," one rule said.

"But that doesn't tell me how long it takes to get 'em tender," fumed
Billy, despairingly. "I suppose they think anybody ought to know
that--but I don't!" Suddenly her eyes fell once more on the ins