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Show il-llBirilFElFIlElllID i'lil Warren's Activities as a Chef Result in a Culinary . Catastrophe Warren was not In his chair. The air wa pungent with th odor of scorching food. "If all right now,' he cam In a ehe was groping for her slippers. "You lay back there! Just a little of th lie burnt at th bottom." "But you haven't put th rlc In yt T" "Bur. It' 11 o'clock. You've been noosing ther two hours It'a almost done going to bs great, too." "Doctor aald I could sit up a little today. Can't I go in to the table?" "Guess that won't hurt you." War-1 ran retreated kltrhenward.' It was Juat half-past ons when bs shouted that "chow" was ready. Wrapped In his big blanket robe, Helen shuffled weakly out to the arm chair he had ready. With a gaap of dlamay ahe viewed the uninviting table. A newapaper served for a table cloth. In the center, en a bulky toagaalne, reposed the large aluminum atew pan. Speechleea, Helen atared at Ita con-tenta. con-tenta. Surely, that could not be the chicken broth that brownish, gluey masa! 'Utile too much rice. Didn't know the blooming atuff would awell." "Why, how much did you put In?" "Here's a piece of the breast," Warren War-ren dug out a fragment of white meat from the unpalatable mass on bis piste. "Try this!" "No. no, I couldn't. Really, I'm not hungry." "You can't get well without eating. Oot to hav some nourishment. - In spite of his assertions that he liked "that burnt flavor" th aggressive appetite with which Warren attacked hla own portion soon waned. "Shouldn't eat much in tha middle of the day, anyway," puahlng back hla plate. "That'll be fin for supper just hsv to warm It up." "Just warm a little of It we couldn't eat all that In a week. And It can't stand In that atew pan. Empty It In on of thoee brown bowl." "Nothing out her big enough," Warren War-ren called from the kitchen. "Then put It In that salad bowl. What' left over put In a fruit Jar. I'll give It to Mrs. O'Orady." "Need a wash boiler to hold It all." was his disgusted comment when he had filled the bowl and tha pint fruit Jar. "No end to the damned stuff I Thn realising that It waa hla own culinary efforts he was denouncing, he added, hastily, that It would be "fine --If already cut up. All you have to ' do la wash It and put It on In cold water. Ua that big aluminum slew i pan." "How much water?" demanded Warren. "Enough to cover It well. You add more aa It bolls down. Dear, maybe you'd better bav a recipe. Bring m that cook book on th pantry shelf." "Now, I can make chicken broth ; without any recipe. I'v cooked a lot at camp. You lay back there and take a napleave thla Job to me." Helen dropped back on th pillow, i her band at her throat. Though convalescing con-valescing from tonsilltls, it till hurt her to tslk. Fortunately. It was Sunday and Warren War-ren wss at home, tor Nora bad Just ' been cslled awsy by a telegram announcing an-nouncing her sister's death. Mrs. O 'Grady waa coming to waah i tomorrow. She could get breakfast snd i dinner and Nora would be home Thursday after the funeral "How much salt?" demanded Warren, War-ren, from the door, the aalt box In hla band. "Oh, Juat anough to season It not to much." : - . . "Huh, that's definite! A teaspoon or a fistful?" "Dear. you'll bav to bring ma tbat cook book that'll tell exactly." When Warren slammed down on th bed the oilcloth covered book. Helen turned hastily to "Soups" and read aloud tha recipe for chicken broth. "One three-pound chicken, two quarta water, one tableepoon aalt. Separate chicken at Joints, salt, cover with water, and bring atbwly to a boll. Let simmer until tender. Season and atraln. A little rice may be added If desired." "All right, that'a dead eaay." "Put on an apron," Helen called after htm. "Ther'e on on th pantry door. Did you tins out th tw pan? Dear, rlnss off svwythlng you use." In a few moments Warren was back, hi coat off, eleevw rolled up and one of Nora s whit serving aprons tied grotesquely around his broad chest. 1 "Where d'you keep the rice?" "The ehelf over the elnk. Wash It snd let It soak until about twenty minutes min-utes before you take off the broth. Wesh It well five or six tlmea" "Now, dont be eo damned particular. It'll be a whol lot cleaner than anything any-thing you get In a reataurant. Keep this cat In her! She's right under my feet." "She wants th chicken liver. Put it In hr saucer under th table." "Huh. I've got enough to do to feed you." as he strode out with Pussy Purr-Mew Purr-Mew trotting hopefully sfter blm. AdJueting her pillows, Helen eelectee the feature section from the bulky Sunday Sun-day paper Warren bad tossed on the bed. She waa deep In an article oa "Spirit Paintings," when bs came In. rolling down his sleeve. "You didn't leave th gas too high?" "Nop, everything s all right. That'a going to be the fineat chicken broth you ever tasted." Helen restrained a smile. Th few tlmea Warren had attempted to cook, hia conceit had been Insufferable. - "Dear, before you sit down' you'd better etralghten around In the front room. Someone might come In." "Oh. It look all right In there." settling set-tling down by tb window with th financial section. "If I do the cooking, j tbat' enough." , Still weak and headachy from lack of sleep, Helen soon dosed off. Bh awoke with th troubled con-clouanna con-clouanna of something wrong;. . V I faltered Helen. "Not more than half that glaaa Jar. Dldnt look much but th. damned atuff bloated on me" . "Half that Jar? Why, that's over a pound! Why didn't you ask " "I did. but you're so blamed Indefinite. Indef-inite. You said you liked rlc In tt. ao I thought I'd put In enough. How th Sam Hill waa I to know lt d swell? But It'a all right. I'll dig down and get you com of th soup." There was no soup. Vainly Warren dug deep Into the pasty mass it wss solid rice with chicken embedded In It. This Is soft, won't hurt your throat." as he heaped her Plata "Rica Is good for you. That's what they live on In China." Th rlc waa cooked to a gluey g-glneee. g-glneee. and the burnt taste and hue proved It had not been stirred from tbe bottom. "Don't leave all that on tbe table-takes table-takes my appetite Just to see It." "You're too dumed sqeamlah." a he set th. stew pan on the sideboard. "We cant eat like thla Let's put on a tabl cloth. Ther.'. on. right ther In th eldeboard." "Now, no sens making a lot of work. We'll cut out th frill for on meal." The table was acantily set Th bread In Ita paper wrapper, and tbe butter In the brown bowl used only for th Icebox, looked moet unappetising. "That chicken's great! So bow fonder fon-der It ur boasted Warren. Helen tried to extricate a ahrei of white meat from the mound of rlc an b.r plat. "Dear. I can't aat when I e so much. Put half of this back, won't you? banding him her plate. 1 Juat want a very little." . Her stomach always weak when she was sick. Helen shrank with shuddering shudder-ing revulsion from ths smeared piste be handed back to her. "Eh? Now. what's tb matter?" bristled Warren. "Nothing, dear, but I'm not very hungry. Ther' some milk out there I think U Just tak a glaee of that." "You're too ' blamed finicky," b snorted, stalking out to th pant re. He returned with a milk bottle and a thick kitchen glaaa If only he had not brought tb bottle: bot-tle: Th outside waa not overly clean. To Helen It uggetd tb dirty crate often seen In dairy wagona She gulped down tbe milk, trying not to see the bottle, her smeary plats, nor the heaping slew pan oa tbe sideboard. a a for supper." "Through T That all you'r going to sat? - Guess rd better clear up. Well, here's where newspapers beat -tabl clotha" a he deliberately scraped off their plates on ' tb paper tbut i.ti eerved tor a cloth. "Oh, don't! It nauseates me let m get away!" pushing back her chair. "Now, what re you throwing a fit about? It's clean, isn't It? Ws ve fust been eating It won't hurt you to see It acraped out-" - But Helen, (tumbling over bis long robe, mad her way back to th bed. Wavea of naueea ewept over her a he buried her fao In th pillow. "Now. what' eating your' Warren had followed her into th. bedroom. "You needn't bav. acraped that out not right on tb table! I'm not finicky fin-icky but I can't help It when I'm clck. j You'r not clean you never were." "Glad I'm not! You'r. eo Infernally clean you mak. everybody miecrab,. All thl aqceamlsbn I nothing but a pe." Th door banged after blm. Trying to etlfle th ob that tor at her eore throat, for almost an hour, Helen lay there la tbe depth of wretchedness. wretch-edness. Then she beard him at th library phone. Sh could not hear th word only a deep mumble. A moment later the door opened and be wa standing by th bed. "Just called up th club got Louie, tb heed waiter. He' going to send .over a tray about slx-thlrty. Told him about your throat. Louie's bettarn'a II your dletltlane be ll fix U( eomething eome-thing you can eat." Helen, trying; not to think of th ra-trsvagaac ra-trsvagaac of a special tray from th club, found hi hand and draw it under her wet cheek. "And that me aut there give It all to Mra O'Orady tomorrow, pro about fed up with that, too. If she don't want It. tell her to chuck It out." Then psttlruj her band, bis nearest approach to a caress. "Guess I wouldn't get msny medals ss a chef. But never mind. Kitten, we're going to have a corking little 1 supper. I told Lou I you didn't bar much appetite and to dree up tbat ' tray with all th trill." . 1 (Copyright. Hit by Mabel Herbert Harper.) Next Week Ceenelicatiens f a , FarnHy Funeral. I |