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CORDELIA. - . . By WINIFRED M. KIRKLAND. • . doctor withdrew the teaspoon lle from Nan’s little pink tongife. laced his hands on her shoul f® and holding her at arm’s length, r ‘ nt her until her blue yes fell before his gaze. Then he turned iipj' about. ..j, you can't do any better than .„ t m the way of a sore throat,” he !' t j “you’d better not open your n-ou’th at a doctor. Run along with breathed a sigh of relief. Van’s sensations, as described by her llf had been so extraordinary that Cordelia had felt that they must have medical investigation. To be sure, Nan was inventive for eight years p](] but somehow Cordelia could ‘ v ’ er help being alarmed at Nan’s symptoms. Cordelia was by nature rxious, as irt not unnatural in the eldest of six. The doctor turned to Nan s mother. 4 , V)( 1 how are you, Mrs. Brath waite?” he asked. ■Oh. I'm all right,” she answered, ■i don't, believe it,” he replied, looking at her with a keenness that paused Cordelia to transfer her anx- j et 'y from Nan to her mother. • Mothers have to be all right,” re marked Mrs. Brathwaite, as with a. dexterous rear swoop of her arm she extricated Bobs-baby from under her rockers. The doctor gazed meditatively at Bobs-baby. From below came a sound of young voices, shrilly com mingled. • .. •‘Six of them,” said the doctor, “the eldest of whom is—” “Fourteen,” said Cordelia. “I’m small for my age,” she added. She was so tired of hearing other people make this remark that she had taken to making it herself. The doctor turned from Bobs-baby to Cordelia, the extreme gravity of xvjiose demeanor was somewhat coun teracted by a tissue-paper cap that fluttered over one ear and a pair of ■worsted reins that dangled from her shoulders. “Playing horse?” he asked. “Laura likes to drive me while I’m making the beds,” explained Cor delia, preoccupied with her mother’s health. "Are the beds finished?” suggested the doctor. “Yes,’’ replied Cordelia, shortly, turning red as she left the room. She ■was not used to being dismissed on any occasion of importance. "You are sick,” said the doctor to Mrs. Brathwaite. “I am not!” she answered hotly. “Your pulse!” She resisted a ■childish impulse to sit on her hands. “Now your tongue, if you please.” Then, "You are sick; if you don’t take care you'll be sicker.” ‘‘l can’t help it. O, baby, please get off mama's foot. Mama can’t ride you now.” "Come here, young man!” roared the doctor. “How long since you've been off anywhere for a change?” he went on with his interrogation. “We went to mother's at Christ mas.” * "Took the family with you?” “Of course.” “How long since you've been away from—from that racket down there?” “Never.” “Bo you mean to say that for fourteen years you’ve never had one day free from your “Doctor, I love my children! I "Wouldn’t leave—” l he doctor looked as if he desired to be explosive, but thinking better of it. gulped and said: “I beg your pardon. But,” he persisted, “don’t you think you could manage to get off for a little while soon —if you tried?” 'lt’s Mr. Brathwaite’s vacation comes next week, and —” Oh, he takes a vacation, does he?” Of course!'” Again her eyes flashed, and again the doctor was cowed. And you think you really can’t go away?” I cannot possibly go away,” she answered, with tense lips. The doc *°r was growing tiresome. better,” he said, rising; C 1 you won’t, good morning!” f But the doctor was not through ;( h Cordelia. Before he could slip having left the mother upstairs, ordelia had hurried from the rear B'gions, with sleeves rolled up and a ( nd s damp washing. Doctor, is mama sick?” she asked, Pushing him into the parlor and clos n? Hie door. “Is mama sick?” she re Peated. says not.” Cordelia was in no mood for trifl- But is she?” she demanded. to know what you think.” „^ es ’ * think she is,” he admitted. Height she to go to bed?” tj,. Cinder the circumstances, I don’t ll , n ( y Ciat would do her much good.” l C 1 make her some arrow to° as^e( i Cordelia. But the doc ,r *as discouraging about the ar royoot, also. i! C do you want me to do for doctor?” Cordelia folded her Shi' * aie arms ant * looked at him. Li WaS a very plain little S irl - She her acl tirae to grow plump; t|,„ enures were Japanese rather ‘i otherwise, and her hair stood a st -iff black braid. But when Wriiu!!‘ l i ed ’ ancl her little + iltecl nose Pea f,(i itself up almost to disap anrT t K . e ’ and ller almon d eyes shone and one dimple ap thiq ... 011 her freckled cheek—bui Sus no smiling matter. Id keep her as quiet as possible,” he said. “Make her lie down, and keep the children away as much as *°u can. Don t let her see or hear them. Rest is what she needs. If she could go away— M Oh, but she can’t! Papa is going away. We’re getting him ready now. It s very hard to make mama lie down, but 111 try. Can’t you give her some medicine?” He took out his prescription tab let. “O dear!” exclaimed Cordelia, abruptly. The doctor followed her gaze out of the window. “What is it?” he asked. “Only Marjorie, going off to play with Daisy Cole. I thought she’d stay in and finish the dishes.” The doctor whipped out of the front door and‘bounded nimbly over the lawn. Marjorie was unprepared, therefore yielded to attack, and re turned to the kitchen. Marjorie was next to Cordelia in years, but not in maturity. She was delightfully pret ty, and had a tendency to shed re sponsibilities. “I’ll just leave this prescription at the drug-store as I pass by,” said the doctor, as he took his leave. In wardly he considered that, his morn ing round over, it would be passible for him to run into the city for ah hour, and drop in on Mr. Braitliwaite at his office. Cordelia closed the front door and went up to her mother. She found her moving about with nervous ra pidity, pulling out drawers and shut ting them again shortly, and laying out various masculine garments on the bed. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were tight-set. Cordelia foresaw’ that it would be a particu larly hard matter to make her lie down. Bobs-baby appeared to be very much underfoot. Cordelia lifted him out of her workbasket, and stood holding him in her arms. He re sented the interruption, and pounded her vigorously; but she smiled at him so persistently, as if not dreaming he could wish to hurt her, that at last he desisted and cuddled his head down on her shoulder. “Mama,” pleaded Cordelia, “don’t you think you could let papa's tnings go for to-day, and rest instead?” “How can 1? I must get these things in order. Your father must have his vacation.” There - was a ring in her mother’s voice that Cor delia had never heard before. “It’s only Wednesday,” she begged, “and he doesn’t go till Saturday. If you would rest to-day, perhaps you’d feel more like working to-morrew.” “There isn’t any rest fdr me, and 1 shall never feel like w’orking!” She w’ould hav controlled herself somehow in the’ presence of the other children, but she could not keep the words back when it was only Cor delia. A louder burst of noise from be low; the mother put her hands to her temples. “Oh, my head! If I could only be quiet!” Then sudden ly she sank into a chair, sobbing wildly. It was very dreadful for Cordelia to see. .She dropped Bobs-baby, ancl swiftly cleared her father’s clothes from the bed, tucking them any w’here, everywhere, out of sight. She took her mother’s hand gently but firmly. “You must lie down, darling,” she said. She darkened the room quickly and laid a wet cloth on her mother’s brow, bent and kissed the draw’n lips. There was at times a great strength ancl restfulness about Cordelia. Again there was a sound of shout ing and stampede in the kitchen be low’. The mother was quiet now’, but lier forehead contracted in agony. Cordelia caught up the baby and hur ried down. There w’as nothing for it but to sw’eep them all out of the house for a picnic. The tale Cordelia told in the kitch en w r as dire and silencing. She knew by experience that the sympathies of the youngsters, Marjorie, Jamie, Nan, Laura and Bobs, required pow erful appeal. v When she had finished, Jamie’s lips were trembling, and even the flibbertgibbet Marjorie’s eyes were wide open with alarm. It is not probable that any of them expected ever to see their mother in the flesh again. They creaked about the kitchen on tiptoe, watching Cordelia’s prepar ations for the picnic w’ith subdued and fearsome pleasure. True, Bobs baby exhibited a tendency to disap pear and be found scuttling upstairs on all fours toward his mother’s room; but determined hands plucked him back by his little petticoats, and determined sisterly palms were clapped over his protesting mouth. Having reduced her flock to such unaccustomed and frightened docili ty, Cordelia’s motherly soul relented to the extent of a whole glassful of fresh current jelly and five micro scopic crumbs of the sacred and in violate fruitcake. Once safe in Pomfort's grove, a secure three-quarters of a mile from her mother’s bedroom, she gradually allowed her spirits and those of the other picnicers to rise. She led the games with all her usual wizardry. They would play they were off camping, just as their father camped every summer. Had he not described it in every detail, to their wonder and delight? Their father’s vaca tions were like a visit to fairy-land for all liis family. True, Cordelia knew’ that during these vacations the stay-at-homes did without beefsteak, and, as she expressed it, lived out of the garden—but why should they not? Cordelia's simplicity w r as some times puzzled by the domestic feats her father described himself as per forming during his expeditions, lie was always camp cook, and yet at home, in their well-appOi.ited kitch en, with the convenienco of an excel lent gas range, he never attempted any of that wonderful biscuit or gin gerbread or omelet he boasted of manufacturing with such delicious success amid the primitive culinary arrangements of the camp. To-day, under- the ppell of Cor delia’s glowing fancy, a’l sic campers had a glorious time. They shut their ears against the half-hourly intru sions of the whistling, puffing sub urban train; Pomfort’s woods be came an Adirondack forest, where behind the distant ..tree trunks they could spy the brown flanks of deer, while a far stump took the shape of a bear surprised at his berry-picking. When at last the sinking sun looked at them level across the roofs of Pomfort’s stables, Cordelia gath ered up her sisters and brothers and her baskets and tin pails, and set off homewards. Meanwhile things had happened. The doctor had gone to the city, he had visited Mr. Brathwaite, and Mr. Brathwaite had come home early, to find his house deserted and preter naturally silent, and a w’hite and suf fering woman in a darkened room up stairs. But that was two hours ago. Now, at five o’clock, two pairs of eyes, a little misty, watched Cordelia as she marshalled her brood up from the back road and on through the mea dows. At the garden fence she halted her followers, and seemed to utter ad monishing words, at which—most curious sight!—they all squatted down and waited in perfect quiet while Cordelia proceeded alone to the back door. There in the doorway stood her father and mother, and her mother, although still pale, looked so marvell ously radiant that ten years seemed to have dropped from her age. She had on her white dress, and there was a rose in her hair. Her father w T ore his new linen suit, and he looked flushed and hot, but very happy. Through the door Cordelia saw r the dining-room table all set, and on it w r as a great plate of ginger bread and opposite that a heaping mound of biscuits. When Cordelia recovered from her astonishment, her first words were of reproach: “O mama, why did you get up and get supper? I was cqming home in time to do everything.” “I didn’t do a single thing dear,” answered her mother, hugging her. “Papa did it all. See, he made gin gerbread and biscuits.” The parents very graciously per mitted their hungry offspring to sit down to table with them without any further preparation than the josh ing of their faces and hands. At this supper there was a change in the usual manner of seating. Or dinarily Cordelia had Laura one side and her mother had Bobs-baby next to her, and Nan they shared between them. Meals were rather busy occa sions for Cordelia and her mother. To-night their father placed him seU between Larua and Bobs-baby, a change occasioning much joculari ty, which grew visibly feebler toward the close of the meal. “Do they always eat like this?” the father asked, as at last he pulled back Laura’s high chair, attempting at the same instant to evade Bobs baby’s buttery caresses of his sleeve. “Yes,’ ’answered the mother. After supper the younger members of the family were about to dance out into the summer evening, after their care-free habit; but a strong voice called them back. “Marjorie and Nan, you will please wash the dishes, and Jamie, your mother’s pansy-bed needs weeding; and I think Laura is big enough to amuse Bobs for a bit, and keep him from bothering mama. To work, all of you! Cordelia, don’t you want to take an evening stroll with your old daddy?” Cordelia beamed with pleasure and surprise. Such an honor had not been hers for many a year. Usually her father took the dainty four-year old Laura by the hand after supper, or perched Bobs-baby on his shoul der, and went romping with him down the garden paths. Cordelia supposed that fathers always pre ferred the youngest ones. But to-night the father chose Cor delia. and put his arm about her and called her sweetheart —plain, over worked, overworried Cordelia. He was a very nice father, very hand some and debonair and jolly. He led his daughter to the apple-tree bench, and there they sat and talked over what the doctor thought about the mother. “The doctor says she must go away,” said Cordelia's father. “It’s too bad that she can’t,” re joined Cordelia. “Why can’t she?” “Because you are going away.” “Is that all?” he asked, dryly. “Well, I propose to vary my program this year. I propose to take my va cation in my own suburban retreat, and send your mother to the moun tains.” # Cordelia gasped, but was speech less. “Why this surprise? I can cook, can’t I, young lady? And as for the management of this famil}, it has oc curred to me that a season ot guntle paternal discipline would not come amiss. There is a pleasant little boarding-place ten miles this side of camp, and mama could be very com fortable there.” Cordelia’s face was still blank with astonishment. “The doctor says,” continued her father, “that it would be well for mama to have one of her children with her.” Cordelia was certainly very dense, for she replied in a resigned way: “I suppose Bobs-baby wouldn’t let her go alone.” Her father looked at her in some puzzlement, and looking, noticed how thin she was, and what knobby little wrists she had. “I’ll settle that with Bobs-baby,” he replied. “He is not to go. It must be one of you who can look after mama if ghf needs it.” Still Cordelia I ** little face was turned up to him, anxious, uncom prehending. “In short, Cordelia,” he concluded, “you are to go with your Understanding slowly brightened over Cordelia’s face. Her eyes grew starry, her lips trembled, her little nose wrinkled itself away. It was a teary smile, but it was Cordelia’s smile—which who could help kissing, for the precious, precious sweetness of her? Then in the soft evening shadow, her father took Cordelia on his lap; he spoke a little huskily: “Cordelia, there are at least two very nice girls in my family—your moth er and yon.”—Youth’s Companion. A Present Day Utopia Hugo Barton, writing in the Out ing Magazine, says that the happiest and most beautiful spot on earth to day is the island of Moorea, one of the Sandwich Islands in the South Seas. Asa contrast to strenuous American methods this description sounds alluring: “Whenever you are thirsty a word will send a lithe, brown body scramb ling up a tall palm tree trunk and in two minutes a green cocoanut is ready for you to quaff—the nectar of the Polynesian gods. It is worth the trip down here to eat the native ‘vittals,’ for you gty at every meal things you never tasted before, and each seems better than its predeces sor. To see your dinner of fresh water shrimps, sharks’ fins and roasted sea urchins. The bananas you eat—there are eleven varieties —baked, raw, fried, dried, grow a few rods back in the valley, ditto the breadfruit, the pineapples and about everything else on the board. It’s nice to have you morning coffee grown in the back yard. Guavas grow in such profusion they are used as pig food, grated cocoanut is fed to hens, while sensitive plant is consid ered excellent fodder for cattle. “For perfection of the human body the Tahitian is unexcelled, if indeed he is anywhere equalled. They are a large race, both men and women being noticably taller and more fully developed than Anglo-Saxons. Every man looks like a picked athlete -with sloping shoulders and bared chests. A crowd of them together reminds one of the scene in a “locker build ing” toward the end of the fall when the ’varsity squad is narrowed down and the afternoon’s practice is just over. I doubt if any Society Islander ever went through a whole day in his life without having a wreath of flow ers on his head or a blossom behind his ear. The love of flowers is in nate with man, woman and child: they can’t pass through a patch of woods without emerging with a gar land. Every gay mood calls for flow ers on their hats, in their hair, be hind their ears—and their life is an almost unbroken sequence of gay moods. Scarcely a native on the isl and of Moorea can speak a sentence of English, but every one you meet greets you with a courteous smile and the welcoming words ‘la-ora-na’ (Yorana).” WORDS OF WISDOM. Love is never preserved in family jars. Poets are born —therefore parents must be to blame. People with small minds are apt to use some big words. It’s impossible to ms*l& a doctor believe that wealth. Many foman acquires her repu tation for beauty at a drug store. What’s the matter with putting up an umbrella for a rainy day? Clubs for men have added much to the comforts of home. It takes vigorous brains to gener ate vigorous thoughts. A woman judges the value of a let ter by the length of the postscript. If there’s one thing a boy enjoys seeing more than a circus it is a dog fight. Although a cyclone carries every thing before it, a lot of rain is left behind. Fortunate is the man with a pull— provided he doesn’t pull the wrong way. One wa3 r to buy experience is to speculate in futures. Invisible patches are not used in patching up quarrels. Wise is the man who knows when to treat and when to re-treat. It’s easy for a deaf mute to love a girl more than tongue can tell. Many a spinster who could have married in haste repents at leisure. Many a married woman’s idea of a stylish hat is one that costs more than her husband can afford to pay. From “Pointed Paragraphs,” in the Chjj Jko News. The Useful Sunflower. Sunflower seeds are said to give an extra fine flavor to eggs and are much used by the French people for that purpose. Remember this when you plant your garden and drop in some seeds around the edges and in the odd corners. A few planted near the sink drain will help to keep away miasma and give you heads of seed that will be mammoth in size.— Weekly Witness. Choice Farm Butter. Use a barrel churn. The dasher churn injures the grain of the butter. Have clean milk and take every care to secure cleanliness about the dairy room. Keep the churn and separator sweet. Cool the cream after separat ing, set it away to ripen ,and stir it each time fresh cream is added. When ready to churn scald and cool the churn and put in the cream at about sixty degrees. Color it with vegetable butter color and churn steadily and not too fast. Do not churn until it forms lumps, but stop when the butter is in shot form. Draw off the butter milk and pour on enough cold water to cover the but ter. Draw away the water and add more, repeating until the water runs clear. The butter should now be free from milk and still on shot form. Remove to the butterworker, add salt, work it evenly into the butter, using in most cases about one-half ounce to the pound; but some use more, from three-fourths to an ounce to the pound. The more salt the better keeping quality, but less of the butter flavor.- In putting butter away for winter use, I wet the jars with strong brine, then pack the butter firmly, filling nearly to the top, and covering with a layer of salt.—Mrs. H. H. Cham berlin, in the American Cultivator. ? Finishing Celery. The most common method for blanching celery on a small scale is that of banking with soil, and it is by this means that the finest flavor can be obtained. Where the plants are set in single rows the soil can often be partially thrown up by means of a plow, or, better, by a cel ery hiller. There are several forms of this implement, but they all work on one principle, that of a diagonally set surface to throw up the soil. Instead of tying each plant by knotting around it a short piece of string, fasten the end of the string around, the first plant in a row, then pass to a second plant without cut ting or breaking the string. While the outside leaves of the second plant are brought up together by the left hand, carry the string once around by allowing it to run between the thumb and finger of the right hand, and so on from plant to plant until a whole row is held up without break ing the string and by tying it at the ends only. Another very good meth od of holding up the celery while the earth is placed around it is by tem porarily setting up boards which are removed as soon as the soil is in po sition. Where celery planted in solid beds is banked with earth, the entire quan tity of soil required must be thrown up by hand. Under these conditions banking with soil is not profitable ex cept on a very limited scale. Owing to the cost, blanching by banking with earth is not to be recommended, ex cept when the crop is to be stored where grown for late fall marketing, and even then it is better, especially on muck or sandy soil, to trench that part of the crop which is to be held for a short time. —W. R. Beattie, Bu reau of Plant Industry, Washington, D. C. The Cow at Her Rest. It is frequently asked when the cow is at her best. Of course that must depend on feeding and manage ment. A recent bulletin of the Wis consin Station says that a cow, for milk and butter, during her fifth and sixth year, and that the length of time the cow will maintain her maxi mum products depends upon her con stitution, strength and the care with which she is fed and managed. A good dairy cow should not show any marked falling off until after ten years of age. Excellent records have been made by cows older than this. The quality of the milk pro duced by heifers is somewhat better than that, of older cows, for a de crease has been noted of one-tenth to two-tenths of one per cent, in the average fat content for each year until the cows have reached the full age. This is caused by the increase in the weight of the cows with ad vancing age. At any rate, there seems to be a parallelism between the two sets of figures for the same cows. Young animals use a portion of their food for the formation of body tissue, and it is to be expected, there fore, that heifers will require a larger portion of nutrients for the production of milk or butter fat than do otlrer cows after a certain age has been reached, on the average seven years of age, the food required for the production of a unit of milk or butter fat again increases, both as regards dry matter and the digesti ble component of the feed. A good milk cow of exceptional strength, kept under favorable con ditions, whose digestive system has not been impaired, should continue to be a profitable producer until her twelfth year, although the economy of her production is apt to be some what reduced before this age is reached. —American Cultivator. Good Shelter Saves Food. Good warm dry quarters lessen the quantity of food required to supply the bodily heat in winter and when any feed above that required for warmth is fed it will be converted into good healthy animal growth or milk as the case may be. But when the shelter is such that the animal is compelled to ejepend upon such food for heat, the food then is a loss rather than a profit. It is not for winter only, however, that shelter should be provided. All seasons have their advantages and disadvantages. Warmth in winter, and sufficient ventilation in summer should always be provided; in other words, the comfort of the animals should be considered at all seasdns. In feeding all kinds of animals the greatest object should be the profit that is lo be made by so doing, and every advantage should be taken to increase this profit. I think one of the heaviest losses incurred by many farmers is the consumption of food for the purpose of producing warmth for the body because of improper methods of sheltering the animals during the period when snow, winds and cold rains prevail. This is a matter that should re ceive attention by every farmer who aims to reduce his expense of feeding to the minimum. It is not extravagant to invest money in buildings that will keep the animals comfortable. Nor is it nec essary that the buildings be costly. When the conditions regarding both feed and warmth are favorable the young stock will do much better and not only the young stock, but the older animals will show a great dif ference, and, therefore, the profit is more sure. The floor of the cow shed should be thickly covered with straw at least once a week, which will be much more comfortable for them, and every few days I turn a bunch of small pigs in with them to clean out anything that might be dropped. When the weather is not too cold cows left to run loose in a square shed with a good roof, thor oughly ventilated and with plenty of light, will be more comfortable and less liable to accident than when fastened in any kind of stall and be as clean as when on the summer pas ture.—R. B. Rushing, in the Indiana Farmer. Hale on Orcharding. At a recent meeting or fruit grow ers, J. H. Hale, the noted Connecticut fruit specialist, told the orchardists present that the old cider orchards are passing out of existence and com mercial orchards must supplant them. The apple is the all the year round fruit. He further said in part: Give the orchard the best soil you have, rolling land preferred. Pre pare this land thoroughly and con tinue thorough tillage. Get good trees. Plan ahead and transplant trees two or three times before set ting in permanent place or pay nurs erymen for doing it. Head your trees low. Manufacture them to suit your idea. Get them down where you can handle them easily and cheaply. Prune annually and spray often and thoroughly. Thin apples. Good trees overbear. This is the most paying operation of all. Pick two to four times to get all of crop at proper stages of ripeness. We don't pick the whole of any other fruit crop at once, why apples? Don't plant dwarfs, but rather dwarf your stand ard trees by summer and root prun ing if they are over-vigorous. Ke has thrown such trees into bearing by plowing deep and subsoiling. Cul tivate early and thoroughly until mid dle of July, then seed to cover crop and let alone. Has no use for mulched trees unless it be an expe dient to throw overvigorous trees into bearing. Mr. I-lale has used commercial fertilizers supplemented by cover crops for forty years, and thinks them equal to barnyard man ure. Has secured results in color and quantits with potash. Use care in harvesting. Mniijligibleput apples in cold storage everv^Com munities should unite and build stor age plants. In concluding, Mr. Hale impressed upon the young men the importance of planting orchards and then caring for them. He knew of no more prof itable venture, but young men were too impatient and the majority of the apple orchards were being planted by old men. There might be a mar ket for a limited quantity -of fancy Western apples at a high price, but the bulk used by classes of moderate means would be the apples produced near home. Look about you. Most golden opportunities are found near home if we can only see them. New' York City’s water supply will come from a watershed of 9 00 square miles when the Catskill system completed.