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• 4 4 ■3/ f+t The Manicure Lady A Charming Midsummer Hat By WILLIAM F. KIRK. “1 -,HAT must tng. that n tie some Inte >vel you arc .nir there." remarked the Head Burlier. "You ain't had your nc.se out of It nil the forenoon." "It ts a beautiful atory. George. I almost cry In some parts of It. and when the laughs come they are sure great. I didn't skip a line of it, either, and I have just finished the last page. The title of it Is >tarfloiver,' and it was wrote by Mrs. Eleanor Shirley Dewflicker And then they say that women can't write! Maybe soma women writes stories that is kind of punk and then gets made fun of by the critics, but this woman that wrote ■star-flower' is some queen of a writ er. Gee, there is some love passages that is simply superfluous and almost sublimate. 'Starflower' is the name of the heroine, a little girl that always lived In the northern part of Pennsyl vania. She is so pretty and sweet that she has lovers come from every where to try to win her hand, but i she loves only one, a young man who Is doing scientific farming near her | father's home. Of course science Is a great thing, George, and I suppose If It helps raise big crops It must help a man to make love, too. Anyhow, she loves him and some day they arc*, to wed. Just listen to this part, where | they are engaged: Very Pathetic. • "‘Starflower.’ whispered Robert, placing her little trembling palm in hts strong right hand. Tittle girl, 1 am plain and direct in my speech, as you know I can't write poetry for you, little girl, like the Byron poems you read to rne out in the orchard, ^ and I ain't no Tennyson, but 1 am a man with a man's heart and two will ing hands. 1 love yoql' ! •• And 1 love you. Boh,' murmured Starflower, bewildered by the won derful rush of happtnes- That swept over her lithe form and suffused her cheeks with the first flush of girlislil love. . . "An oriole flashed brightly through the crimson sumac and the brook rip-1 pled along like some soft accompani- ; ment to the oldest, sweetest story in the world.” "Gee, George; ain’t that some writ ing'’" , , "Did he marrv her and make a lot i of kale "' asked the practical Head | Barber. "No. George." replied the Manicure Ia»dy. “That is the pitiful part of it. \ young bridge builder named Walls-r <irr came to the little town where Starflower dwelt, and lie kind of daz- ^ •/.led her with his tine English and his , wonderful piano playing. He was a. college man, and her Robert didn t know nothing about Virgil or Horace | or Ramoses or any of them old-timers (or knew all about tViei% all. and he could change his voice until it got as soft as the rustling of the breeze I through the autumn leaves. When ! he was talking to his men he spoke kind of commanding, but when lie spoke to her he always spoke with the soft pedal. One night, George, j -lie agreed to run away with him. and ' 1 he next morning they were gone, just after they eioped Orr got tired and had to take at position that paid him about one-quarter as much mnn- | ev as tier former sweetheart made ever> week out of his registered milk fiom his registered cows. It Sounds All Right. "When she saw poverty staring tier | in the face she look some kind of a powder and thej found her still in death with a note to Robert pinned ,,n her night robe. 'Wien Roberi heard about II and wdnt so insane that he called all his cows Starflow- er.” i "It sounds all right.'' said tin- Head j Barber, "but 1 wouldn't go nuts over ng girl that threw me down!" \ t REMEMBERING By WILLIAM F. KIRK. The Girl With the Monocle No, This Isn’t English, Y’Know; It's the Rage in Paris I F I could just remember, when the past is on parade. Home little deed of merit for each big mistake I've made. The othe.r days, long vanished, would be glad days to recall. But Memory leans toward wilder scenes—and I can see them all, If I could Just remember, counting back a score of years, One act that made a loved one smile—not ten that prompted tears— I'd dream the past dreams over and forget the wasted wine, But Memory loves to taunt me with the errors that were mine. If I could Just remember, In the twlMght of my life. One speech that made for peace a nd love—/lot ten that hastened strife— The future might seem dreary and the present might be bare, But the past would be an orchard with a thousand songbirds there. How to Manage a Husband By DOROTHY DIX. By OLIVETTE A DAINTY little model this for wear with the lacy gowns of July and August. All in pure white, it tones well with the bright eyes and softly flushed cheeks of midsummer days Draw folds of soft chiffon or mousselaine de sole over the crown and brim of h small milk-white straw shape- -chip will do, though milan is better and “horsehair" best of all. Around the crown draw taffeta ribbon finishing in a "pump bow" directly in front. From under this bow, in either direction, lay sheafs of wheat in the prevailing tone of white. And now the final touch is given by the coquettish ruches of soft chiffon that face the entire under brim and appear softly at the back w here the brim has a‘decided upw ard roll. Sister’s Engagement TO-DAY'S COMPLETE STORY Quite Taxable William Jennings Bryan once visit ed Cornell University, and while being entertained to dinner by a prominent member of the legal fraternity he told the following story “Once out in Nebraska 1 went to protect against m> real estate assess ment. and one of the things of which I particularly complained was assess ing a goat at $?.">. 1 claimed that a goat was not real property In the le gal sense of the word, and should not be assessed. One of th* assessors, a very pleasant-faced old man. very obligingly said that ! could go up stairs with him. and together we would look over the rules and regula tions and see w hat could be done. We looked over the rub s, and finally the old man asked: - ‘Does your goat run loose on this road ?’ “‘Well, sometimes,* said I. wonder ing what the penalty was for that dreadful offense. ‘‘Does he, butt'." again queried the old man. • Yes.’ 1 answered, he buttf*.’ “ ‘Well,’ said the old man, looking at me, ‘this rule says tax all property running and abutting on the highway. I don’t see that 1 can do anything for you. Good day. sir.' " T HK daughter of the household, aged 11. looked up from her book as Jhe man caller tame Into the library. “How do you do, Mr. Dearmore," she said, getting up politely. “You might as well take a comfortable chair be- ! cause sister won’t be down for ages. I She is always slow about getting dress ed and 1 supikOBrft! now she'll be slower i than ever because she won’t care if she | does keep you waiting." “Well, why shouldn't she care, I’d jlike to know " ’ inquired the caller with an assumption of surprise designed to | be comic. j Tho young person hitched a little ! closer to him In her eagerness. "1 just found out," she told him, “to- ; night 1 guess they weren't going to ! tell me. but sister was ro interested i in brushing out her switch that she ! didn’t notice me. and mother said. ‘You j might have done better if you’d had more ambition, but, thank heaven, \ou’re engaged at last!' And stater i said yes, it was time ami she'd have | to make the best of it Why, she's (engaged! Don’t you understand?” “You surprise me," said the nailer, with interest. to Aunt Clara's for a month. “I'm surprised at her getting engag e«l. because she'll have to have a house and meals then and she says picking ut things to eat is simply awful and she wouldn’t wear her life away keep ing down the grocery hills for any man ami he might as well make up his mind to it. Anyhow, sister never loses her head, because mother says ho. and she’ll make him toe the mark Mother says that with her sweet smile sister could make u man believe white was black, hut that seems foolish. Wouldn't you know black If you saw it?” “I used to think 1 was able to dis tinguish colors,” admitted the caller. T HEY had admired all of the little.| bride’s wedding finery, and had finally dTlfted over to where the tea table wan aet by an open window'. Well, my dear," said the woman in the soft white gown. “I hope you are going to be as happy a* the days are long, and I am sure you will, for Jack is a fine fellow, and he is well to do. and an orphan, so you are going to escape hard times and moth ers-in-law. two of the principal snags that are most apt to make a big dent in the barque of matrimony, even when they don’t wreck it “Still, you must, not expect to find everything plain sailing. There are ;i good many storms on even the calmest sea of wedlock, and you are going to find out that lots of things that you’expected to happen won’t happen, and a lot of things that you were positive couldn’t occur, do occur with amazing frequency. “Also, you are going td discover, and It will give you the Jar of your life, that the noble ideal of perfect manhood that you are tying up with has got faults, and peculiarities, and whims, and crochets that you have never suspected concealed about his person. “Now you take it from me, that the great thing in married life is for the wife to begin right, to get off on the right foot, so to speak, for every irujii can be managed, and brought to eat out of his wife’s hand, if only she goes about it in the proper manner." “What is the beat way of managing h husband?" anxiously inquired the little bride. The Best Way. “Well.” replied the woman in the soft white gown, "I can’t do better than relate to you the experiences of two friends of mine, both of whom married good men. but men who were high tempered, and tyrannical, and cross—the sort of men you know who posses* all of the virtues and none of the lovable qualities of life. They are the kind of husbands who are too much gentlemen ever to strike a woman with their hand, but who leave her bruised and bleeding, and wounded to death In spirit after they have stabbed he.* with their tongues. ‘There are lots of men like that, my dear, and when I get elected to the Legislature the very first thing I am going to do is to bring in a bill to make a man’s disposition, instead of his morals, a caune for divorce. “But back to my story. One of these women whom I am telling you is named Bertha, and she is one of those gentle, suave women who are born salve spreaders. Anything like a Jolt In the domestic machinery hurts her to the very core of her being. She isn’t weak. Oh. dear no. She would hrlng on to a principle, or a conviction, to eternity, and be loyal to one she loved to the death Itself, and if you pushed her to the wall she’d fight until there wasn’t an en- j emy left alive, but she would never | argue a question with you. or say a thing that would hurt your feeling^, or do anything to make the slightest unpleasantness. "Well, when the rosy mists of the honeymoon rolled jip and she discov ered that she walr married to a rpan 1 who was twin brother to the fretful porcupine, and whose prejudices sim ply strewed the ground around him, she undertook to manage him by tact. What She Did. "She only conversed upon the sub jects that she knew' he agreed with her upon. She devoted her days to rubbing his fur dow'n the right w’ay. She kept everything that was un- i pleasant, and that could possibly ruf fle him. hidden out of sight, and spent her life tip-toeing on eggs for fear of rousing him and exploding his in fernal machine of a temper. In short, in order to keep the peace and make her home happy, she went through a very martyrdom of sacrifice of all of her desires and inclinations. "H’m,” said the little bride, “and how did the other woman manage her husband?” "The other woman.” replied the woman of the soft, white dress, “was of a different type. She had a red headed temper of her own that was a dead ringer for her husband’s, be sides which she loved a scrap for the pure fun of the thing. She didn't dodge the issue when her husband flung a debatable subject into the family arena. She simply rolled up her sleeves and sailed In. and when the domestic mix-up was over she wasn’t always the one who was on the mat. “She was n good woman, and a good wife and mother, who (lid her full duty by her family, and she stood pat on her record. She didn’t waste any time trying to jolly or cajole her husband as poor Bertha did. If he didn't like the way she did things, and her opinions, why he could lump it, that was all. She was an inde pendent. free spoken woman, and she didn’t see why she should wear’ her self out flattering any old husband into doing the things he ought to do, anyway. “And she didn’t mind expressing these sentiments, but the result was that their house was a dark and bloody battle ground, with no day without its spat. But that was her way of managing a husband." “Which one of the systems work?” asked the little bride with a troubled air. "Neither." replied the woman In the j soft, white gown. Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. GO TO AN ARTIST. F)EAR MISS FAIRFAX: Not a day that goes by that I am not told of the wonderfully beautiful hand 1 have. Artists have stopped me and apologized in the cars and commented on my beautiful hand. Of course. I paid no attention to these comments, but it seems that if I could ob tain some revenue through hav ing my hand posed I should like to avail myself of the opportu nity. MISS R. ! Have your mother go with you to the studio of gome reputable artist and ask his opinion. I am sure, however, that there aro many ways more lucrative and enno bling by which your hands can earn you a living. Have you tried them? DON’T GIVE IT. TAEAR MISS FAIRFAX: . Is it proper for a young man of 18 to present his lady friend with a diamond ring on her six teenth birthday? We are not en gaged, but the love between us could not be broken, as we have known each other for four years. V. A. ,H. F. Eighteen and sixteen often decide their “bond of love can’t be broken.* and change their minds ten times be-, fore they are old enough to marry. Your love may develop into a senti ment more lasting, but don’t give dia mond rings till you are older, and know-. THE OUTSIDE. ■p)EAR MISS FAIRFAX: ‘A” said that when a man is walking with tw r o girl friends he must walk in the center. “B” said when a man is walkinw with two girls he must walk on the outside. H. N. L. M. A gentleman should always take the outside of the walk. Wouldn’t Be Done S URPRISING as it may seem, this is not an English fad at all, although London society is always given the credit. —or discredit—for styles in monocles, but it is a novelty taken up by “smart” Parisiennes. Robbie met a neighbor who was smoking some fine, fragrant tobacco sent by his son in America. He took out his own pipe ostentatiously. "Hae you a match, Sandy?” he in quired. The match was forthcotning, bu* nothing more. * “I do believe,” said Robbie, “I hae left ma tobacco at hame.” “Then," said Sandy, after a silence, "ye mich’ gie me back ma match." From Innocence of Thought By Virginia TerhuneVan De Water A Surprise. Flying Men’s Mascots CURIOUS SUPERSTITIONS OF AVIATORS. Drink- Maxwell House Blend “The Quality Coffee** More sold and more enjoyed than any other high grade cof fee in the South. Sealed came at grocer* Cheek Nea! Coffee Co., NMbriHe, BomIob. Jwek»*«viU«. Very Exciting. The young person nodded her head, ■'it’s awfully exciting to have an en gaged person in the family. We never had one before. 1 held my hand over my mouth to keep from asking right out who It was, but I knew if 1 spoke they'd make me go away and then all they said was that where the trooser was coming from if dad didn't make a killing goodness only knew. What's a trooser**" "A sort of feminine delirium. 1 be lieve," the young man told her. Wouldn't you like to read out loud to me from your book?" “Not when 1 can talk." the young person assured him, promptly “I’d think it was Bob Samson, only he hasn’t been*here for ages lie's rid ing around a ranc h out West now and he always brought me chocolates and pelted the dog and waited hours and hours for lister Mother told her one day for g urines* sake when she got her hands on that huge old Samson house to burn it down and put up an other one with a French gray drawing room and other things, but 1 guess Bob slipped a cog somehow" “Er—what ?’’ "Well, Auni Clara said to mother that a cog in the wheels must have slipped somehow, and how did he ever get away, and wasn’t it a pity* So I sup pose Bob did it. 1 always liked his chocolates—he bought me just as good ones as he bought sister. Sometimes they try to pass off cheap candy 'on me. but I know ' Then 1 feed it to the “I’m glad it wasn’t that Siddens man He always called me ’little one’ and j patted my head and he had bronchitis ! and always coughed before he spoke, i and sister said she didn’t care if he i was rich j but she couldn't endure a ’ time mother “But you’re different," said the young person “It isn’t as though you were one of sister's trailers that’s what dad calls 'em. It doesn't make any differ ence to you. Only I thought if I told you about it you’d understand why she didn’t hurry to get dow-n here, now’ she's Interested In one particular man.” "Well," said tho caller, “I’ll tell you a secret I’m the particular man!” The young person’s eyes bulged. “Honest?" she squealed. “Why, l was never so sur-r-p-prised in my 1-1-llfe! And you never petted the dog once! My, but you’re quiet!" Snap Shots By LILLIAN LAUFERTY. I RECIPE FOR WRITING. rnpMIE one way to write is to do it Sit down to your typing ma chine and rattle the keys till a po»m slips out where mere space has Just been. Sounds ’ simple—well, lis ten; it isn’t; it's only the way you should write. Do I do it? Well, no. I’m confessing that it’s not thus my songs I indite. But l take up my lit tle tan Fabef and cudgel my little gray brain, and l cover great sheets of white paper right over and over again with lead marks of black and with smudges which mean that 1 had to erase. Each "I just dashed off" chap really drudges. He denies? Then he’s paid for his “space!” * • t ENVOI. A little work, a little play To keep us going and so. Good-day! A little warmth, a little light Of love’s bestowing—and so. Good-night! A little fun to match the sorrow Of each day’s growing—ami so. Good-morrow! A little trust that when we die W e reap our sowing! And so— Good-bye! ^ George DuMaurier. • • • MAIDEN MUSINGS. The man a girl can influence does not need it. Men generally give us what w, ex it i'i of them. Think well of a scamp ,nd his natural conceit will make him weak to keep on fooling you. L UCK plays a big part in the life of an aviator, and for this reason most airmen are very superstitious. The majority of aviators carry mascots when they fly. and the cleverer the pilot the more the luck-bringing emblems he seems to possess. Vedrines, the crack French tlyer. always has a min iature of the famous picture “Mona Lisa" fastened to the side of his aero plane when he starts on a flight. He carried this picture on his racing mon oplane recently when he won the cup at a record speed of 106 miles an hour. Orahame-White does not trouble about mascots to any great extent, but he in variably wears a pair of check riding breeches under his flying overalls when he makes a flight. These garments are popularly supposed to be lucky, and many other aviators have adopted a similar flying garb. Notable among these is Bioiovouclc, the young Peru vian airman, who recently flew over the Alps. A Lion’s Tooth. Another favorite mascot is a little Teddy bear which is strapped to one of the wing stays on the machine. In uaval flying circles a lion’s tooth is considered to be a lucky mascot for airmen -a fashion created by the late Lieutenant Parke, for with such an em blem he came out of many serious smashes unscathed. I^ewis Turner, the well-known pilot instructor, who flies the Caudron biplanes, has so many mas cots that he is generally in doubt as to which he shall take up with him. He recently remarked that were he to wear all his mascots at once he would be mistaken for a toy dealer. There are many quaint superstitions In vogue at the aerodromes. Chief among these is that should a pilot have one smash he will have two others on the same day tf he continues flying This belief is so firmly rooted in the minds of most aviators that after a mishap they seldom again trust themselves on a machine until twenty-four hours have passed Unlucky Thirteen. Many airmen also have a supersti tious dislike of flying in bright sunshine. But there Is a substratum of common sense running through this belief. The hot rays of the sun when shining on a damp ground cause heat eddies in the air, which are very dangerous to flying I men. These are known as air pockets, which are holes in the air that contain no support for machine or man. Flying on the thirteenth day of the month is in great vlisfavor amongst many airmen. And this superstition is largely due to the fact that so many fatal accidents have occurred to airmen on this date. Last year ten pilots were killed whilst flying on the thir teenth of the different months and al ready this year three airmen have been killed, two on the thirteenth of Jan uary and one on the thirteenth of Feb ruary Airmen are also influenced by the behavior of animals on the ground when they are flying over them. If horses or cattle appear terrified at a pilot’s approach, and utter warning cries, then this is regarded as an omen of ill-luck. But If the animals over which he is passing are not alarmed to any extent by his approach, then he has little fear that his flight will bo anything but suc cessful. Another bad omen is the stopping of watch on an aeroplane when it is aloft. Lady passengers are popularly sup posed to ensure the success of an areo- plane flight. One of the most consist- tent luck-bringers in this respect, is Miss Trehawke Davies. She invaria bly brings luck to the pilot who takes her on a flight. She recently accom panied Hammel in the Aerial Flying Derby round London when he obtained the second place after a magnificent flight Miss Davies flew on several occasions with the late Mr. Astley. A few days before his death this airman, whilst flying with Miss Davies, fell in his monoplane from a height of nearly a hundred feet. Both pilot and pas senger escaped w r ith a shaking. A few days later Mr Astley. when flying alone on a similar machine in Ireland, side slipped in the air at a low altitude and was killed on the spot. Got It Regular Then. Mrs Subbub: "I wonder what's come over your master this morning. Sarah? Instead of being crops, as usual, he started off happy and whis tling like a bird." Sarah (the new “general”): "I'm afraid it's my fault mum. I got the wrong package, and gave him bird seed for breakfast food." M UCH has been written and said within the past few years in commendation of the broad lines on which the training and edu cation of the modern girl is conduct ed. To add further approval to this twentieth century method would be platitudinous. To cast a slur upon it, or to hint that the latest ideal in the upbringing of women has its attend ant drawbacks, is to lay one’s self open to the onus of being old-fash ioned. It U* a sin in the minds of most people of this generation to be old- fashioned or behind the times in ideals and theories. Yet some of us conservatives still cling to certain of the tenets that were instilled Into us 20 and 30 years ago. The memory of our own girlhood sometimes leads us* to compare the girl of the period with the "young person” of our early days, and the modern product does not emerge unscathed from the compari son. It would be carrying conservatism Daysey Mayme And Her Folks By FRANCES L. GARS IDE. L YSANDER JOHN APPLETON has an affectionate disposition. Unless her mouth is full of pins or hairpins, he never leaves the house without kissing his wife good bye. On rare occasions he has given her money as he was leaving, and when In her alacrity to accept it she has forgotten to kiss him he has been grievously pained. He has never ex perienced that feeling of momentary reprieve which comes to colder-heart ed husbands on such occasions. He w T as in a tender mood the other evening, and sought to put his arm around his wife’s waist. Alas for the ignorance of man and ttye tyr anny of fashion! He couldn’t find it! He stepped back and looked at her in a puzzled way. Then he followed the line laid out by the dressmaker and slid his arm gently around under her armpits. The n°xt evening, still tender and loving, this being th© springtime of the year, he again put his arm under his wife’s armpits, but her waist was not there! He scratched his head in a puzzled fashion and felt a momentary rebuff. But ids love is not of the kind that brooks discouragement, and, after a moment's survey of her form divine, he got down on the floor and put his arm around her ankle, the dress maker having located her waist there in the dress she was then wearing. The following evening Lysander John looked before he attempted to embrace, and found her waist was not at her ankles! It had been moved up to her knees! It was then that he was overcome with a sense of the helplessness of man when opposed to the tyranny of fashion, and he bowed his head in anguish and cried aloud. • It used to be so simple a matter,” he cried, beating his hands on his breast, “for a man to pu' his arms around the waist of the woman he loved, but alas! it is a simple matter no longer! “It has become a movable sacra ment of love!" to the limits of folly not to admit the tremendous value of the broader, and deeper, and franker training w’hich the modern girl receives over that of her prototype of a quarter century ago. It would be the height of bigot ry not to admit that by her twentieth century education, she has become a clearer thinking, more self-reliant, more useful member of society than her parent was. Yet there are some things missing in the character of the “young person" of to-day which make her elders regret that a modern edu cation could not be absorbed by her without a radical alteration taking place in her. character. Our girl has lost much of the senti mental appeal that belonged to her aun-t’s or mother’s girlhood days. I do not mean by sentiment the mawk ish fc'uperconsciousness of sex which sometimes masquerades under that name and which can not be too soon stamped out as a menace to all that is best in womanhood. But I do mean that she has lost much of her one time ability to call forth the highest and best 1n young mankind by her fresh, untarnished view of the world. Shrugged His Shoulders. A youth of my acquaintance called recently on a girl with whom he was much smitten—after the fashion of the male young of the species. The girl was college-bred and had the sophistication of her type. The young man was fond of reading, and the talk drifted into flterature. The girl advanced her own theories concerning Brieux and other constructive Euro pean writers with absolute frankness, and before the evening ended had aired all her ideas and opinions on the white slave question. When the young man mentioned the conversation to me my face must have betrayed some surprise, for he shrugged his should ders and laughed a little bitterly. "Girls have changed since your day, 1 guess,’’ he remarked—“more’s the pity!" They have changed since that day. They have changed for the better in many things. To a person with en tirely modern view's they may have Improved in all things. Yet it seems a pity that in h^r intellectual advance our girl should have failed to retain much of the grace and sweetness that served as an inspiration to the men w*ho were youths 20 and 30 years ago. The Exchange. In the course of her evolution the “young person" of to-day has ex changed innocence of thought for consciousness of morality. She no longer has manners—she has Man ner. She had transformed what w'as once poise into Pose. Yet the characteristics which some of us are so narrow' as to deplore aro doubtless only indications of the ad vance in the evolution of a woman far broader and better than her predeces sors were. Yet, as old-fashioned folk, some of us recall the girls we knew when we were y<fupg, and sigh—but very softly, lest the Young Person of To-day should hear—and censure—us. No Fail for Recipe. She—I sent a dollar to a young woman for a recipe to make me look young." “What did you get?” “A card saying. Always associate with women twenty years older than yourself.” Here’s the Sweet for YOU The sweet for you is Velva Syrup in the red can. It is never equalled on griddle cakes, waffles, muffins or bis cuits. Besides, you can make so many other sweets with it—candies, cakes and fudge, dainty desserts and sugarplums. is always sold in clean, sanitary cans— never from barrels or casks. It is made for particular folk -for you. Buy it to (♦■y and you'll buy it again. You can get Velva in the green can from your grocer if you prefer it. Ten cents up, according to sire. Send for the book of Velva recipes. No charge. PENICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, La. CHOCOLATE TAFFY 1-2 cupful Red Velva Syrup. 1 cupful sugar. 1-2 cupful milk, 1-2 cupful butter. 1-4 pound bitter chocolate, 1 1-2 teaspoonfuls almond extract. Put Syrup into a pan, add chocolate, butter, milk and sugar; boil steadily 20 minutes, stirring now and then. Add extract, pour into a buttered tin. 7 I