Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 104, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 March 1919 — A WAR CAKE [ARTICLE]

A WAR CAKE

By MARION WORTHLEY.

(Copyright, l»19, by the McClure New»pap>r Byndlcats.) “There, you soggy thing, I just knew you would come out horrid,” said Marie as she closed the oveu door and placed the cake on the kitchen table. “I have always had bad- luck when I want things to be especially good, but it’s all the fault of that flour substitute, and mother did want me to use it. Such a day for her to choose to go to town just when Mark and Phil Gordon are corning from camp!” Marie had never met the Phil Gordon of whom shs spoke, but she had seen him several times, and as he was her brother's chum at camp, she was anxious that everything, herself Included. should look attractive when he made his first visit; therefore her fretful remarks about a perfectly good war cake.

With a resolution to make the best of what she had, Marie whipped up a frosting for the cake, observed that it didn’t look so bad after all, and set it on a chair outside the kitchen door so. that the icing would be hard and cool in time for luncheon. Then she busied about and set the table for three, as her mother would not be home until late. A hurried glance nt the clock showed her that she had just 20 minutes in which to dress before her brother and his chum were due, so with a last look around at the snowy linen, gleaming silver and the glowing chrysanthemums in the center of the table, she gave a satisfied sigh, and went to her room to make good enough better, as Mark used to tell her. Twenty minute# passed and Marie returned and stepped outside the door to get her cake. What a sight met her eyes! The cake was there, certainly. but perched on top of it, contentedly lapping the frosting, was Spug, a neighbor’s cat! Marie cried out and made a dash for it but the culprit eluded her grasp and sprang off the steps, running for Its life. And Marie, thoroughly angry, snatched up the cake and hurled it after the animal, which was nearing the corner of the house. “You horrid beast!” she cried and stopped short in amazement for around the corner came a young man in khaki just in time to get the cake squarely in the face.

“I win,” cried a voice from the other side, and turning quickly Marie saw Mark, who had come from the opposite direction, stop in astonishment. “Good heavens! sis,” he said. “Whatever have you been doing to Phil? Then he burst out laughing and Phil, who had by now disengaged the sticky mess from his.face, soon joined him, but Marie, now that her first burst of anger was over, stood dumb with embarrassment. Seeing this, Mark took a hand in the situation and Introduced his chum, explaining that they had raced to the door to see which was the nearest way. By the time the tale was finished Marie had recovered her poise and amid much laughter told them the stony of her war cake. “But," she ended, blushingly, throwing a glance at Gordon, “I don’t always greet our callers that w r ay, and ff you will come in I think we will have our luncheon without the.lU-fated cake.” Private Phil Gordon, catching a glimpse of curly, brown hair, bright eyes and elusive dimples, vowed that no matter how she greeted others he would do his best to make her greeting for him always cordial, and some time later, as he found many occasions to call, It proved even more than cordial.