Band books

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Such a supper twice or thrice a week would warm the cockles of my old
heart; but Polly says, "No modern cook can make these things just right;
and if not just right, they are horrid." That is true; it takes an
artist or a mother to fry salt pork and make milk gravy.
There were other things on the table,--quantities of bread and butter,
apple sauce (in a dish that would hold half a peck), stacks of fresh
ginger-bread, tea, and great pitchers of milk; but naught could distract
my attention from the _piece de resistance_. Thrice I sent my plate
back, and then could do no more. That meal convinced me that I could
trust Mrs. Thompson. A woman who could fry salt pork as my mother did,
was a woman to be treasured.
I left the farm-house at 7, and reached home by 8.45. Polly was not
quite pleased with my late hours; she said it did not worry her not to
know where I was, but it was annoying.
"Can't you have a telephone put into the farm-house? It would be
convenient in a lot of ways."
"Why, of course; I don't see why it can't be done at once.


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