for cooking?_ Then without a doubt cooking was
something which boy scouts deigned to do! And it was not just girl's
work! Nor did he have to be ashamed because he did it! On the contrary,
he could be proud of his knowledge! could even win honors with it! Oh,
what a difference all this made!

Something began to happen to the amazed Johnnie. Relieved at the
thought that he was neither to be dropped nor despised for his kitchen
work, happy with the realization that he was not unlike those boys of
the never-to-be-forgotten marching twos, suddenly he felt a change of
attitude toward cooking. What he had hated so long now did not seem
hateful. "I can cook mush," he boasted with satisfaction, "and meat, and
beans, and potatoes, and cabbage, and biscuits and gravy, and tea and
coffee, and--and prunes."

"Great!" said Mr. Perkins. "I don't believe one of my scouts can cook as
well as you can. Why, you're _sure_ to get your badge on that list of
yours!" And pointing to a small and very black picture at the middle of
a page, "This is the device," he explained. "When a boy gets it, he's
allowed to wear it on his blouse."

Johnnie looked. And looked closer. Next, to make certain that he was not
mistaken, he pinned the picture with a calloused forefinger. "A--a
kettle?" he asked incredulously. "Scouts wear a pitcher of a--a
_kettle_?"

"Dandy idea, isn't it?" returned Mr. Perkins; "--the big, black, iron
kettle that soldiers and miners and hunters have used for hundreds of
years! Like yours over there!"

Slowly Johnnie faced round. On the back of the stove was the
bean-kettle, big, black and of iron, heavy to lift, hard to wash, and
for years--by Cis as well as Johnnie--cordially loathed. "Soldiers and
miners and hunters," he repeated, as if to himself; "and scout kids wear
pitchers of 'em." That remarkable change of attitude of his now included
the kettle. He knew that he would never again hate it. When he turned
back to the leader, he was his old confident self. "Do boy scouts ever
wear aprons?" he inquired. "And does anybody laugh at 'em?"

"Laugh?" said Mr. Perkins. "They do not! When a scout's round the house
like you are, helping his mother, perhaps, he puts on an apron if he's
smart. Remember that thrifty law? Well, a boy mustn't ruin his clothes.
Out on the hike, of course, where there aren't any aprons, he generally
uses a piece of sacking--especially when he's washing dishes." Then,
opening the little book again, "He