es, and a waffle iron and a porcelain rolling pin."

"What do you know about rolling pins and waffle irons?" he asked fondly.

"My dear boy," she replied, patronisingly, "you forget that in the days
when I was a free and independent woman, I was on a newspaper. I
know lots of things that are utterly strange to you, because, in all
probability, you never ran a woman's department. If you want soup, you
must boil meat slowly, and if you want meat, you must boil it rapidly,
and if dough sticks to a broom straw when you jab it into a cake, it
isn't done."

He laughed joyously. "How about the porcelain rolling pin?"

"It's germ proof," she rejoined, soberly.

"Are we going to keep house on the antiseptic plan?"

"We are--it's better than the installment plan, isn't it? Oh, Carl!" she
exclaimed, "I've had the brightest idea!"

"Spring it!" he demanded.

"Why, Aunt Jane's attic is full of old furniture, and I believe she'll
give it to us!"

His face fell. "How charming," he said, without emotion.

"Oh, you stupid," she laughed, "it's colonial mahogany, every stick of
it! It only needs to be done over!"

"Ruth, you're a genius."

"Wait till I get it, before you praise me. Just stay here a minute and
I'll run up to see what frame of mind she's in."

When she entered the kitchen, the bride was busily engaged in getting
supper. Uncle James, with a blue gingham apron tied under his arms, was
awkwardly peeling potatoes. "Oh, how good that smells!" exclaimed Ruth,
as a spicy sheet of gingerbread was taken out of the oven.

Aunt Jane looked at her kindly, with gratified pride beaming from
every feature. "I wish you'd teach me to cook, Aunty," she continued,
following up her advantage, "you know I'm going to marry Mr. Winfield."

"Why, yes, I'll teach you--where is he?"

"He's outside--I just came in to speak to you a minute."

"You can ask him to supper if you want to."

"Thank you, Aunty, that's lovely of you. I know he'll like to stay."

"James," said Mrs. Ball, "you're peelin' them pertaters with thick
peelins' and you'll land in the poorhouse. I've never knowed it to fail."

"I wanted to ask you something, Aunty," Ruth went on quickly, though
feeling that the moment was not auspicious, "you know all that old
furniture up in the attic?"

"Well, what of it?"

"Why--why--you aren't using it, you know, and I thought perhaps you'd be
willing to give it to us, so that we can go to housekeeping as soon as
we're