low sneak in the district attorney's office; and he went like a
snake in the grass and found out it wasn't so; and a real officer come
down on Genevieve May to know what she meant by impersonating a Secret
Service agent. This brutal thug talked in a cold but rough way, and I
know perfectly well this minute that he wasn't among those invited to
the Popper costume ball of the Allied nations. He threw a fine scare into
Genevieve May. For about a week she didn't know but she'd be railroaded
to Walla Walla. She wore mere civilian creations and acted like a
slacker.

But finally she saw the Government was going to live and let live; so she
took up something new. It was still On to Berlin! with Genevieve May.

She wasn't quite up to pulling anything new in her home town; so she went
into the outlying districts to teach her grandmother something. I didn't
think up the term for it. That was thought up by G.H. Stultz who is her
son-in-law and president of the Red Gap Canning Factory. This here new
war activity she'd took up consisted of going rough to different places
and teaching housewives how to practice economy in putting up preserves,
and so on.

It ain't on record that she ever taught one single woman anything
about economy, their hard-won knowledge beginning about where hers left
off--which wasn't fur from where it started; but she did bring a lot of
wholesome pleasure into their simple, hard-working lives.

In this new war activity it wasn't so much how you canned a thing as
what you canned. Genevieve May showed 'em how to make mincemeat out of
tomatoes and beets; how to make marmalade out of turnips and orange peel;
how to make preserves out of apple peelings and carrots; and guava jelly
out of mushmelon rinds, or some such thing. She'd go into towns and rent
a storeroom and put up her canning outfit, hiring a couple of the lower
classes to do the actual work, and invite women to bring in their truck
of this kind and learn regular old rock-bottom economy. They'd come, with
their stuff that should of been fattening shotes, and Genevieve May would
lecture on how to can it. It looked through the glass like sure-enough
human food.

Then, after she'd got 'em all taught, she'd say wouldn't it be nice
of these ladies to let her sell all this canned stuff and give the
proceeds to the different war charities! And there wasn't a woman that
didn't consent readily, having tasted it in the cooking. Not a one of
'em wanted to ta