ing president interrupted her.

"Young ladies, you will now come to order and consider the subject in
hand."

"Which hand? Or in other words, where's that article? I should like to
see it," said Hilda.

"It appeared in the _Tribune_, but I didn't see it," said Puddy, "but
I can give you some little bits, here and there, that I jotted down as
George Daly read them. Now listen."

"Order," said the president.

"'First catch your fish,'" Puddy read impressively, looking around for
approval.

"First go a-fishing, I should say," said Hilda.

"'Don't hang up your fish on a hook in the housekeeper's department
and think your work is done.'"

"That's Hugh Millett," murmured the president. "I don't think he's
been home since he returned from his wedding trip."

"'Start with a clear fire, not too hot. Don't pile on all the wood and
coal at once, for if the fire burns down before your fish is done it
will be quite spoiled.'"

"Well, Mrs. Munsey is a spoiled fish, then," said Hilda. "Don't you
remember, Prue, how Will Munsey heaped on the lovering at first? It
was four inches deep--lovey this and dovey that till it fairly cloyed
one. But the fire went out long ago. There's no spark or sparking on
that hearth now."

"'Don't think, after the cooking is well under way, that you can leave
it to take care of itself.' I had something more," said Puddy,
fumbling in her reticule for another bit of paper. "Oh, here it is:
'Don't stuff your fish with dried crusts composed of the way your
mother used to do this.' And here's another: 'Some husbands, after
making it so hot in private that their poor wives are nearly reduced
to a cinder, serve them up in public with a cold shoulder. Others
toss them carelessly into a kettle to simmer from morning till night
over the nursery fire.'"

"I'm going," said Nannie abruptly, and without further ceremony she
departed, just as Evelyn Rogers came in again.

"Nannie Branscome is a perfect----" Hilda began.

"Sh-h!" said the president.

"Well, I trust she'll settle in a heavily wooded country, for the
cooking she'll require before she's palatable would break a
millionaire if fuel was dear."

"Oh! she'll do well enough when she has her growth," said Prudence in
her dry way.

Nannie's growth was a subject of jest among her mates. At sixteen she
suddenly thrust her foot forward into womanhood with saucy bravado, as
it seemed. At seventeen she snatched it back--pettishly, some said,
but t