n. "If
I'm to have my mind improved I want it well done."

"'In the intervals it should be frequently brushed, and the regular
weekly face massage'--that's printed wrong--'the regular weekly face
message should not be neglected.'"

"What's a face message?" asked Matilda, curiosity overcoming prudence.

"Anything that's said to anybody, I suppose. Now don't speak to me
again. 'The nails must also be taken care of and one or two visits to a
good manicure will show any woman how it is to be done. The implements
are not expensive and will last----'"

"What's a manicure?"

"Some kind of a doctor, I reckon,--'and will last a long time. A few
simple exercises should be taken every night and morning to preserve the
fig--Continued on page seventy.'"

"Preservin' figs ain't any particular exercise," Matilda observed,
shaking out the mended skirt. "You can do most of it settin' down."

"'Preserve the figure,'" Grandmother continued with emphasis. "'Soap
and hot water may be used on the face if a good cold cream is well
rubbed into the pores immediately afterward.'"

[Sidenote: Cucumber Milk]

"Vanilla or lemon?" Matilda asked.

"It doesn't say ice-cream, it just says cold cream. 'Cucumber milk is
excellent for freckles or tan, and----'"

"I reckon I won't hear no more," said Matilda. Her lips were compressed
into a thin tight line. "I can stand the carriages that are to be driv'
standin' up, and the lovely imps and the nose pinchin' and the caps for
the ears, but when it comes to goin' out every mornin' to milk the
cucumbers, I don't feel called on to set and listen to it. The man what
wrote that piece was as crazy as a loon, and if five million people read
his paper every week, four million, nine hundred and ninety-nine
thousand and nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em know it. I ain't sayin'
who's the one that don't."

She sailed majestically out of the room with her head held high, and her
frowsy grey hair bristling with indignation. Grandmother's lower jaw
dropped in amazement for a moment, then she returned to the paper.
"Milkin' the cucumbers don't seem quite right," she said to herself,
"but there it is in print, as plain as day."

For the first time her faith in the printed word wavered. "Maybe
there's some special kind of cucumber," she mused, "that gives milk. We
used to hear 'em called cowcumbers. Why'd they be called that if they
didn't give milk? There's only the two kinds as far as I know--the tame
an