roblem, 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 Biscuit 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 Stevedores'
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 the
principal Guests in turn and then endeavors to shoot the Episcopalian
Rector in the Neck with a gush of real Champagne.

After one of these sad Affairs, at which the Rummies had balled up the
whole Menu, Claudine came to the front with an Ultimatum. She said she
was going to can the awful Birthplace and spend the remainder of her
Natural among the real Rowdy-Dows.

"Right-o, Babe!" spoke up Elam. "To-day I have put the Works into a
new Combine which makes me a Janitor so far as the Plant is concerned,
but boosts me into the Charley Schwab division when it comes to
Collateral. I have three million Iron Boys and most of it is Turkey. I
am foot-loose and free as a Robin. Let us beat it to the Big Show. It
is about time that the vast Territory lying toward the East should be
aroused from its Lethargy.