Walkerton Independent, Volume 66, Number 17, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 28 September 1939 — Page 2

S Household Nems ^HUbr^ w «P^>-t:_ ■ • d^ K > ■*' 'swj*j« e i^, w&i - ■&Jr - ; w»OM nogMs, wHv 1 ^ . DON'T THESE LOOK AWFUL GOOD? (Recipes Below.)

My Favorite Recipes Lucky, indeed, is the homemaker who has among her treasured recipes Aunt Martha’s “receipt" for soft molasses cookies, Mother’s rule for old-fashioned apple pan dowdy, or grandmother’s instructions for making home-baked beans. Those old, favorite recipes are the mainstay of many’ a tempting meal. Each one of us has our own prized collection of just such recipes—some old. some new, but all of them tried and approved by a critical family. The recipes I’m giving you today are some of my own favorites —family “heirlooms" and contributions from friends and neighbors who are excellent cooks. When you’re a "seasoned" or experienced cook you may take liberties with a recipe or with directions, but if you're a beginner, or if you’re trying a new dish for the first time, it’s better to stick to a proven recipe and the accurate measurements it calls for. Accuracy in cooking means level teaspoons and tablespoons and cups i in the amounts the recipe specifies; it means sifting flour once before measuring; combining ingredients by the method given, and cooking or baking according to time and temperature recommended. Oven Fried Chicken. (Serves 4) 1 2 to 3 pound chicken (cut for frying) 1 cup flour 1 teaspoon salt % teaspoon pepper 2 eggs ¥4 cup water 1 cup fine cracker crun - Fat for frying 1 onion (chopped fine) 1 cup cream Dip pieces of chicken in flour to which salt and pepper has been added; then dip in

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beaten egg to which uzater has been added and finally roll in cracker crumbs. Brown in hot fat (1 inch in depth).

Place in baking pan, sprinkle with onion, and top with cream. Cover and bake in a moderate oven (350 degrees), until tender, approximately hours. Surprise Muffins. (Makes 2 dozen small muffins) ' 1 egg (well beaten) 1 cup milk 2 tablespoons butter (melted) 2 cups cake flour 3 tablespoons sugar 3 teaspoons baking powder % teaspoon salt 4 tablespoons cherry preserves Beat egg and add milk and melted butter. Mix and sift the flour, sugar, baking powV der and salt. J Pour liquid mgre- . 17 f dients into the , , dry ingredients. C j / Pour into well- \\ greased muffin I — J - L -- tins and place *2 ‘ teaspoon of preserves on top of each muffin. The preserves should be partially covered with muffin batter. Bake in a hot oven (400 degrees) for approximately 12 minutes. Vanilla Ice Cream. (Automatic Refrigerator Method) 2 3 cup sweetened condensed milk % cup water teaspoons vanilla 1 cup whipping cream Blend sweetened condensed milk, water, and vanilla thoroughly. Chill. Whip cream to custard-like consistency and fold into chilled mixture. Pour into freezing pan. Place in

A Word About Replacement of Furniture By BETTY WELLS

While everybody’s on the subject of what’s the matter with the country. we might as well add a decorator’s two-cents’ worth. It’s simply that the homes of America are harboring too much old stuff that ought to go to the junk man. No—we’re not advocating that you throw away the priceless antiques that your grandchildren might wish you’d saved. Actually most of the old stuff that’s thrown away deserves to be pitched out after it has served its day of duty. It’s perfectly all right to hang on to things that are really fine, but if we would do a really proper job of throwing away, business would boom. That old living-room table, for instance. that hasn’t looked like anything for years and years. And Eighteenth century mahogany tray type table would be twice as useful and add immeasurably to the looks of the room. Yet it wouldn’t involve such a large investment. Or take that old rocking chair

freezing unit. After mixture is about half frozen remove from refrigerator. Scrape mixture from sides and bottom of pan. Beat until smooth but not until melted. Smooth out and replace in freezing unit until frozen for serving. Serves S. A Chocolate Sauce for Ice Cream. 2 squares unsweetened chocolate 2 tablespoons butter % cup boiling water 5 tablespoons white corn syrup 2 cups sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla 4s teaspoon salt Melt chocolate and butter and add hot water gradually. Bring to a boil, add corn syrup and sugar, and cook over low flame for 5 minutes. Cool slightly, add vanilla and salt. Gingerbread Waffles. (Serves 6) 1 cup molasses l 3 cup butter 1 teaspoon soda *2 cup sour milk 1 egg (beaten) 2 cups cake llour 2 teaspoons ginger ’,2 teaspoon salt Heat molasses and butter to boil-

ing point. Remove from tire and beat in the soda. Add sour milk, beaten egg, and the flour which has been

sifted with the ginger and salt. Mix well. Bake in hot waffle iron. Serve with whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg. Honey Spice Cake, cup shortening % cup granulated sugar 3 4 cup strained honey 2 eggs 3 cups cake flour 2 teaspoons baking powder % teaspoon soda ¥2 teaspoon salt teaspoons cinnamon l 2 teaspoon clJKes L z teaspoon nutmeg % cup nut meats (broken) 1 cup buttermilk 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Cream shortening. Add sugar and beat thoroughly. Add honey. Separate eggs, beat yolks and add to mixture. Mix and sift all dry ingredients. Add ’4 cup of dry ingredients to nuts and add to cake mixture. Add remaining dry ingredients alternately with buttermilk and vanilla, beating between each addition. Beat egg whites until stiff. Fold into mixture. Place in wellgreased loaf pan. Bake in moderate oven (350 degrees) for 45-50 minutes. Send for ‘Better Baking.' Feathery cakes, tender, delicious pastry, and biscuits that melt in your mouth—Eleanor Howe gives you tested recipes for all of these in her cookbook, “Better Baking.” To get your copy now, send 10 cents in coin to “Better Baking,” care of Eleanor Howe, 919 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois. Is Making Good Pie a Problem? In this column next week Eleanor Howe will give you her secrets for making tender, flaky pastry that literally melts in your mouth. You’ll find recipes for pies, too—double crust pies, fluffy chiffon pies, and dainty tarts. 'Released by Western Newspaper Union.) Silver Brush A small soft brush costing about 10 cents is very helpful in cleaning embossed silverware. The brush gets into the corners. After use, wash the brush in warm water and dry it before storing.

that’s still on duty. It might be all right in quaint old-fashioned bedrooms, but it certainly doesn’t do anything for the living room. A new : wing chair in its place wouldn’t break the family bank. As for that spindley desk you’ve had for goodness knows how long—who ever uses it anyway? A secretary or a handsome breakfront cabinet wouldn’t take up much more wall space and would be a stunning addition to the looks of the room. Not to mention its usefulness. In the dining room, is there any good reason why you’re hanging on to that old china closet? A pair of corner cupboards in its place would look smarter and show off your china better. In your bedroom, the chances are that the rest of the furniture would look all right if you replaced that old dresser with a handsome chest and an interesting mirror hung above it. (Consolidated Features—WNU Service.)

CHU B OF EVIL By OCTAVUS BOY COHEN . O OCTAVUS ROY COHKN-WNU SERVICE

I — —- SYNOPSIS Beautiful, young Kay Forrest has been employed by Christine Maynard, photographer, to pose for a series of pictures, the background of which will be exquisite Cathedral Gardens, famous Southern resort. Unknown to them. ! one den Butler, mean, unscrupulous "swamp angel," has led a friend to spj on the two women Kay, As necessity, is scantily clad while posing for the camera studies. Kay frequently stays with Mrs. Ruth Hamilton, her son Barney. of whom Kay is very fond, and her daughter Margaret. Mrs Hamilton, a remarkable woman, conceived the idea of the Gardens following the death of her husband. One night, after a local dance. Kirk Refolds, a ne er-do well gambler of Beverly, a resort town, and Kay go for a ride Kirk’s car collides with that of Harvey Jackson, and during the ensuing argument Kirk whips out a gun and kills the young, popular engineer. Kav is completely stunned bv the tragedy.

CHAPTER lll—Continued Kay’s hands were clasped in her i lap, her figure racked by dry sobs. “Oh, Kirk ... it was so awful . . .” “Lay off that. I’m trying to be kind, but you won’t let me.” She said, “Will you go away?" “No. That'd be a dumb play. Then they’d know I did it.” “But if you stay in Beverly . .” “I’ve got to. And you’ve got to play along with me.” His hand fell on her wrist. “You’ve got to; see?” His voice frightened her. The kindliness had gone from it. It had become the sort of voice he had used with Harvey Jackson. Cold. Bitter. Inviting no argument. She said, “I don't understand . . .” "Murder is murder,” he explained flatly. “A man can only be hanged once. Does that tell you anything?" I “No . . .” “Then listen. You saw something tonight. You know I don’t bluff If you open your mouth to anyone you’ll get the same dose Jackson got.” Calmly. Quietly. Just like that. If you say a word to anybody, I ll kill you, too. She was like one hypnotized . . . but the recent tragedy had been too vividly seared on her young brain to admit of doubt. “I’m scaring you because you need to be scared.” His tone was conversational. “I want you to realize just what you're up against.” “But Kirk . . . you couldn't!” “No?” He laughed mirthlessly. “A man will do a heap of things to save his own hide. You're just a kid. You're all shot to hell by what you just saw. You're figuring you've got to talk to someone. Right?” She said nothing, made no gesture. He continued. "You'd be likely to tell your father. Or this Hamilton guy. I'm warning you . don't!" Still she did not answer. “Here's why,” he went on. “And I don't want to make it any tougher on you than I can help. Only you’ve got to understand For your own sake." His hands were tight on the wheel. “It won't be safe for anybody to know what happened tonight. If you tell your old man—or Barney Hamilton—they’ll try to do something about it. That won’t be healthy for them.” “But they had nothing to do with it.” "They’ll be in it the minute you spill a word. And remember what I said before: they can't kill me any deader for killing three men than for killing one.” That damnable logic again. Cold statement of cold fact. “I'd do it. You saw enough tonight to know I would. So for their sakes . . . you keep ’em out of it.” A pause, and then, "And one more thing. Maybe you'll figure that if you squealed I'd be thrown in jail and everybody would be safe. Well, that don’t go, either. My dice-deal-er, Dan —I've enough on him to hang him twice over. If I wanted to get someone and couldn’t—on account of being in jail—he’d do it for me. And be glad of the chance.” They passed a big white house set far back from the road. A plantation. Kay saw people on the broad, high veranda; heard snatches of laughter and the syncopation of a jazz orchestra playing in some gay New York night spot . . . and intruding into this southern tragedy through the loud speaker of a radio. “Put yourself in my place,” said Kirk. "Then you'll know I’m not bluffing.” She could put herself in his place; that was the staggering thing. She knew that he was telling no less than the truth. She, of all persons in the world, had reason to know that he was deadly and coldblooded. She felt terribly young and alone. “This,” Kirk said, “is between you and me. There are liable to be questions. And you're not to know the answers. Is that perfectly clear?” She said, “I can’t think ...” “You’ll have time enough for that.” His words were close-clipped. “But whatever you think—always remember this, anyone else who knows about this is going to find himself in a lot of trouble.” * ♦ ♦ Beverly is bisected by State Highway No. 11 which runs due east and west and digresses only briefly at Monument Square to circle the venerable two-story brick courthouse which stands solidly and solemnly under benevolent old oak trees. At either end of the town on this highway are new and impressive archways, designed by leading carpenters and flaunting to the tourist world sentiments collaborated on by prominent members of the local Chamber of Commerce who daily view the fruit of their literary activities with pride. Entering the town from east or west, you are confronted by this: t WELCOME TO BEVERLY Pop. 6,500 > Departing, the tourist glimpses the reverse side ot the same arch-

I way and is edified by another lit- ' erary confection: PLEASED TO HAVE MET YOU COME AGAIN TO BEVERLY Pop. 6,500 Artistically and perhaps esthetically the signs are intriguing, however little they might seem to blend with the sleepy tranquillity of the little southern town. They are wrong, however, in one important respect, the optimistic Chamber of Commerce being inclined to ignore cold facts. Some few persons resent an exaggeration which defies the Federal census of 1930. Government figures proclaim to the world that the municipality of Beverly has 4.376 residents. Members of the Chamber of Commerce declare frequently, officially and vehemently that this count is untrue and that there has I been deliberate and unforgivable discrimination. They appear to be- | lieve that such an undercount is a | cataclysmic thing, affecting the 1 well being of the entire world, and their assertion that sixty-five hundred persons reside in the little town is merely a method of answering ; this libel. "All right.” is the effect j of their statement, “we ll tell the world how many people we think we . have.” These sign-boards are a direct and proximate result of the successful launching of Cathedi • ’ Gardens. I With the Gardens completed, the gravel road leading to them freshly scraped, the White Star Hotel newly | papered—in spots -leading citizens I and business men conceived the idea that tourists might come to visit awhile. The signs were therefore erected and casual arrangements made to entertain a few strangers. I But for some reason which Beverly never could quite understand, the fame of the Gardens spread overnight. There were other beautiful Gardens in the South, many of them, whose fame had been broadcast for decades, but there was something about this new place of Mrs. HamI d ton's which intrigued the fancy of j tourists. They came not singly, but ! . in battalions. They descended upon ’ 1 the somnolent little town and ’ swarmed about its streets. And i since Beverly was a considerable ; distance from any large city—being therefore a metropolis of sorts—the i tourists usually remained for two, ; ' three or four days. | They visited Cathedral Gardens in ; the early morning. They flocked there during all the daylight hours. ‘ And, almost invariably, they re- ! mained in anticipation of moonlight i I nights when the Gardens reached the zenith of enchantment. Visitors 1 wrote to their friends: "Os course Cathedral Gardens are 1 beyond description. You must see ! them. But when you do come, plan Ito stay a few days. This is a queer i little town, but lots of fun. The ho- ! tel isn’t half bad and there's dancing every night. One good picture- i house, and several places along the I roads serve barbecue sandwiches [ . which are worth driving a few miles | to get. There are other things, too. The proprietor will tip you off if he : thinks you’re safe—believe it or not | —to a dice-game on the second floor. I Regular crap-table, and it's fun, pro- j vided you don’t mind losing a little. We have stayed five days and we’re 1 coming back when the azaleas are j over and the lotus season begins. ' They say that’s going to be breathtaking.” And, on more than one occasion, j ’ letters were despatched from gen- I . ; tiemen tourists to other gentle- . men who might become tourists. 1 These letters touched on another i point: ( "... And in addition to all that, Jim, old man, there’s plenty of hoti cha here. If you’re lonely, meet ; Miss Henkel, the beauty operator in the hotel. She’s easy on the eyes , j —and boy! how tropic! The rest is , ' up to you. As a matter of fact, the i whole thing is a miracle. I can’t help wondering what the old-timers in this burg think of the jazz invasion. “P. S. This Henkel dame answers .| to the name of Babe. What she ! answers is something else again. A j word to the wise is foolish.” It had taken Beverly no time at all to become tourist-conscious, nor - to exploit its visitors. Robbie Morse I raised the price for his best rooms t to two dollars a day, and never j quite oriented himself to the fact - [ that it was paid without question. - j Pleasant homes on streets jutting 1 I off from Monument Square placed j signs in their front yards: “Tour--5 । ists Accommodated” and some of j them assumed names: “The Gray - I House—Meals & Beds for Tourists,” t j “ Welcome to Ye Oide Inne. Chickr en Dinners and Comfortable 1 ■ Rooms,” “Rooms. Meals. Free r j Parking. Make This Your Head- - j quarters While Visiting Cathedral I Gardens.” r And all of this had happened sud- : I denly and bewilderingly to a towm i which for more than tw r o hundred I years had dozed placidly under ! southern skies; a town which was s i bordered on the east by Big Moc- - [ easin Swamp and on all other sides

by tradition; a town where busi- 1 ness had been depression-proof and boom-proof; a town unaware of the < outside world except on those in- 1 frequent occasions when the na- I tion had indulged in warfare. Bev- • erly was startled, business men applauded. A little roadster, having as passe .gers Kay Forrest and Barney 1 Hamilton, approached Beverly from the east, bumped across the railroad tracks and moved slowly up Palmetto Avenue toward Monument Squa re. Tb.e Square was crowded. Outside the White Star Hotel was a fleet of cars, most of them wearing the license plates of other States. The general trend of passenger traffic was eastward, toward Cathedral Gardens. Farmers, in from the country in rattle-trap flivvers, searched despairingly for parking space and cursed Beverly's new popu arity. The Constable on duty at the Square made large and frantic gestures in an entirely futile effort to regulate traffic. Barney asked a question. “Home?” “Yes.” “Right away?” “Yes.” He said, “You're funny. You haven’t even been to town in two dm. I “A man can only be hanged once.” weeks, and now you have to run home. Why?” “I must. Really.” “Before you get out—” he started. “What?” “Well, I suppose it’s none of my business and I swore I wasn’t go- : ing to butt in . . . ” “Go ahead, Barney.” “All right.” He drew a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong with what?” “With you?” The smile died from her eyes. She said, “Nothing.” “Tell that to somebody else. I know there is.” "What makes you think so?” “Lots of things. It started the ’ day after you went to the dance with Kirk Reynolds two weeks ago. [ You’ve been different. And you haven’t even wanted to come to town until this morning. It’s almost 1 as though you were afraid of some- ! thing.” She said, “Maybe I am.”

“Then spill it. You know how I feel about you.” “How?” She tried to relieve the tension. “Let’s put it that I’m a sap, which ‘ might explain why I love you ...” Her face flushed and she touched his hand ever so gently. “But darn it! don’t you see where that puts me? I want to help and you won’t let me. j You’re stalling.” She said, earnestly. “I’m not—really. There’s nothing wrong.” He shrugged. “You win. I’ll check out.” “Barney! Please ...” He turned on her then, his blond, boyish face serious. “Let’s talk turkey, Kay. Something happened when you came into town two weeks ago. When 1 drove you in, you were bright and happy. The next day you came back to the Gardens all shot to hell. Mother and Margaret have both noticed it. I’ve seen it in your eyes. You’re scared . . . and don’t say I’m wrong, either.” She shook her head. “You may not be wrong, Barney; but I still can’t explain.” “Kirk Reynolds is mixed up in it, isn’t he?” She was startled. “What makes you think so?” “I’ve got to think it. Whatever the trouble is, it started the night you went to the dance with him.” “Yes.” Her eyes were somber. “As a matter of fact, Barney, that’s why I’m in town today.” “Why?” “To see Kirk.” “But why? What's the big idea of wasting your time on a louse like him?” She said, “I’ve got to talk to him, that’s all I can tell you.” The boy’s eyes narrowed. “That telephone call you got last night, was that from him?” “Yes.” “He told you to come in this morning?” “He asked me to.” “And you won’t explain what’s eating on you?” “Barney! I can’t! It isn’t that I don’t want to.” “I see.” He spoke gently. “Listen, honey—there’s a lot of nasty

talk going around regarding Kirk Reynolds. You haven’t heard it because you haven't been in town in the last two weeks. And I haven’t told you. But I’ll tell you this much — I don't like the idea of your playing around with him.” She said, “I don’t either, Barney. But this morning I’ve got to see him.” “Check! I wish you’d tell me what’s what.” “I would ... if I could.” He lighted a cigarette with fingers which were none too steady. “Going back to the Gardens tonight?” “Yes.” “With me?” “I hope so.” “I’ll pick you up here at five. Oke?” “Right. So now . . .” She put a warm hand over his in brief caress. Then she jumped out of the car and moved up the walkway toward the veranda of her home. He looked after her with troubled eyes. “Something’s awful wrong,” he told himself, "and I’m going to find out what it is.” CHAPTER IV Mrs. Emma Forrest was a fine woman. Her friends agreed that she was fine; that she had an overplus of those sterling and pious qualities which make for social success and domestic happiness in a town like Beverly. No one, or at least very few, persons ever criticized Emma Forrest. She ran her home immaculately, dressed well and plainly, did ardent church work, belonged to a reading circle, and was inordinately fond of helping neighbors when there was illness in the house, though it was not unknown that after these neighborly excursions she invariably had something to talk about: something personal and intimate, like the 1 dearth of bed linen or the condition of kitchen plumbing or the shocking failure of the ill woman to have I stocked her pantry shelves with preserves. Mrs. Forrest was forty-eight years ।of age. She was not fat, but she definitely was heavy. Solid. Not comfortable at all, but solid. Folks asserted, that her face showed strength of character. Her manner was positive—so positive that Andrew Forrest, her rather smallish husband, had acquired a chronic submissiveness. He never—or very seldom—argued with Emma, and on such rare occasions as he did, he never won. At least Emma never acknowledged that he had. She was that sort of a woman: a thing was right because she said it was right. The good upper - middle - class housewives of the towm admired Emma Forrest. They admired her sterling qualities, her goodness of heart, her efficient management of her household, her success in having molded her twenty-two-year-old son, Andy, into a stalwart masculine edition of herself. And they wondered why a thoughtless Providence had inflicted upon her such a daughter as Kay. “She’s wild, that's what she is—in spite of everything her mother has tried to do for her.” They said, “She’ll come to no good end, mark my words.” They said, “It's a pity Kay couldn't have turned out to be a fine girl. Emma didn’t deserve to have that sort of daughter." By that, Beverly did not mean to infer that Kay Forrest was immoral, although there were some few’ who, without particular conviction, hinted that they wouldn’t be so terribly surprised to learn that she

was. This morning the family had finished breakfast. They were waiting, Mrs. Forrest and Andy rather grim and pious. Andrew Forrest who, by original selection and biological chance, had become nominal head of the household, uncertain and ill at ease. He knew that Kay was to be greeted with a barrage of criticism, and inasmuch as there existed between him and his nineteen-year-old daughter a bond of friendship and sympathy and understanding which was beyond the comprehension of the virtuous Emma ... he waited gallantly to give such meager support as lay within his power. They saw Kay step out of Barney Hamilton’s little car. They saw her move up the walk; cross the veranda. They saw her come through the front door and approach the diningroom. Mrs. Forrest greeted her with a remark which was not unobvious. Mrs. Forrest said, “We’ve been waiting for you, Katherine.” Kay caught an almost imperceptible warning flicker of her father’s right eyelid. Therefore she answered meekly, “Yes, ma’am.” (TO RE CONTINUED Gibbon, Speedy Traveler, Roosts in Tree at Night The gibbon is the most two-legged of the anthropoids. Proportionately, his upright gait, leg length and posture are more nearly like ours than are those of the other apes, although his top weight is usually about 14 pounds and there is nothing human about the way he travels when speed is the essence; he can tween trees with a precision and crotch in a tree, but unlike other

Jlsk Me Jlnother 71 General Quiz The Questions 1. Are zebras black with white stripes or white with black stripes? 2. White persons constitute what per cent of the people of the British empire? 3. Why do people generally walk in circles when lost? 4. In what cities would you find the following districts: The Loop; The Barbary Coast; The Bowery? 5. In what wars did the United States draft troops? 6. What country is designated by the sobriquet Cousin Michel? 7. Are animals other than horses spoken of as thoroughbred? 8. What is the difference between a dove and a pigeon? 9. Are there white elephants? 10. Here is the first line of a wellknown poem: “O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west." Can you give the second line? The Ansivers 1. The basic color of a zebra is wiiite, and his stripes are black. 2. Fourteen per cent. 3. Because one leg is shorter than the other. 4. Chicago; San Francisco; New York. 5. Civil and World wars. 6. Germany. 7. Other animals eligible to be recorded are spoken of as pure bred. 8. A dove is a pigeon. 9. White elephants are merely light-skinned Asiatic elephants, arid may occur as the offspring of normally colored parents. This type is revered in Siam, and kept in the royal stables of the monarch. 10. "Through all the wide Border his steed was the best.” The 3R f s (^aMotorOiE i RSSffiSl i ' < * I K Quaker State Motor Oil has a background of over half a century of scientific refining ... is recognized by car owners, the world over, as the quality lubricant for automotive use. Acid-Free Quaker State Motor Oil is refined exclusively from the finest Pennsylvania crude oil. All impurities are scientifically removed. Each drop of oil is pure, heat-resistant lubricant . . . assuring maximum reliability. I KSHsfeiS Vi When you use Acid-Free Quaker State Motor Oil regularly, you are free from worry about motor troubles due to sludge, carbon or corrosion. Your car will run better, last longer. Quaker State Oil Refining Corp., Oil City, Pa. HOTEL LINCOLN INDIANAPOLIS 4 <>o ROOMS