mpare Jewelry
with proud Duennas of her own Station.

Seeing Claudine at the corner of 8th and Central, waiting for the Open
Car, one would not have suspected that she harbored Intentions on the
Court Circles of Europe.

One would merely have guessed that she was on her way to the Drug Store
to purchase much Camphor.

But she had taken a peek at the Palm Rooms and the powdered Lackeys and
the Tea Riot at the Plaza, and she was panting inwardly.

She wanted to hang a silver Bell around her neck and go galloping with
the white-faced Thoroughbreds.

It was no good trying to work up Speed on a half-mile track in the
Prairie Loam.

Once in a while Claudine made a bold Sashay to start something
devilish, but the Fillies trained on the Farm did not seem gaited for
the Grand Circuit.

As for the Servant Problem, it was something ferocious. City Help
could not be lured to the Tall Grass, and all the Locals had been
schooled at the Railway Eating-House.

Elam and Claudine had a Cook named Gusta, born somewhere near the
Arctic Circle in Europe.

Her fried Chicken drowned in thick Gravy came under the head of Regular
Food.

She could turn out Waffles as long as there was a Customer in sight.
The Biscuits on which she specialized were light as Down.

The Things she fixed to Eat were Fine and Dandy but she never had heard
of a Cuisine.

When you took her away from regular Chow and made her tackle something
Casserole or En Tasse, she blew.

Also there was a Maid who should have belonged to the Stevedore's Union.
She could pack Victuals in from the Buttery and slam them down on the
Table, a la Commercial Hotel, but when it came to building up an
intricate Design with an ingrowing Napkin, three spoons, four Knives,
five forks, and all the long-stemmed Glasses, to say nothing of an
artful pyramiding of Cut Flowers around the Candelabra, then she was
simply a female Blacksmith.

Claudine would throw a Dinner once in a while, just to subdue the Wife
and Daughter of the National Bank, but the Crew would nearly always
crab the Entertainment.

With the Support accorded by the solid ivory Staff, she had a fat
Chance to give a correct imitation of Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish.

All during the nine Courses she had to yelp more Orders than the
Foreman of a Street Gang. A Megaphone would have helped some.
The Hostess who wishes to look and carry on like a Duchess, certainly
finds it vexing when pop-eyed Lizzie leans against all of