1903 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
7i5 
a great blazin’ bedqiiilt. 11 was hand¬ 
some, I w'lll give in. It must have took 
sights and sights of gumption, as well 
as yeller cloth, to figure that out, and 
it must ’a’ made the stars in the heaven 
above feel meachin’ to look down on it. 
Vvhy, there isn’t one on ’em could hold 
a candle to it! 
Wal, as I was a-sayin’, I was lookin’ 
at that bedquilt and tryin’ to take the 
pattern of it so’t I could make one 
like it for our best bedroom, when up 
stepped Hetty, and punched me in the 
side, a good, strong punch, and says she: 
“Ma, do come over here an’ look at these 
squash pies a-settin’ up for prizes. 
Land,” says she, “why, I wouldn’t send 
such pies as them out to feed the hogs 
with. They’d say: ‘Give us a squash, 
and we could do better than that our¬ 
selves.’ ” Wal, with that, I went over 
to see them pies, though I did hate to 
leave that star bedquilt—and, lawsy me 
—they was a sickly lookin’ set. Wal, 
says I, Hetty May, I do presoom to say 
that that pie I brought over for our din¬ 
ner is a enough sight better-lookin’ 
than any of these, if your pa has kicked 
the kittle round all the way from ’Sonet 
here. With that, up stepped a dapper- 
Icokin’ young feller that was walkin’ 
around sort of lookin’ out for things. 
“Excuse me, marm,” says he, takin’ off 
his hat with a great flourish of trumpets, 
“but I overheard what you just said, and 
if you’ve got any better lookin’ pie than 
these ’ere along with you, you’d better 
bring it in,” says he, “for the judges are 
just gettin’ round to set on these pies.” 
I brought that pie for our dinner, says 
I, and I don’t know as ’twouUl improve 
it any to be set on by several men. It 
was all I could do to keep pa from 
trompin’ all over it as we come along 
this morning. 
The young feller laffed, and said he 
guessed they wouldn’t hurt it any, but 
I felt sort er dubersome; Hetty May, 
though—she kep a-nudgin’ me and a- 
sayin’, “Do, ma, do! Oh, say, ma do”— 
till finally, ruther than be drove clean 
out of my seventeen senses, I give in. 
Wal—all right, sez I. You run and git 
it, Hetty May, an’ if t’ ain’t all stove to 
flinders a-flouncin’ around in that kittle, 
you can bring it to this man, and with 
that I walked off, real unconcerned, to 
look at the pickles and jells. I wa’n’t 
goin’ to have that feller think I was set 
up any by puttin’ my squash pie in 
Ta’nton Cattle Show. 
Bimeby, Hetty May came runnin’ up 
to me all nerved up. “It’s in, ma, it’.i 
in,” sez she, “an’ it ain’t spoiled a mite, 
an’ it looks real han’some. Wal—sez 1, 
cool as a cowcumber—I guess it looks 
full as well as these Ta’nton pies. Let’s 
go and look at the garden sass. Over by 
the cabbage-heads we run across the rest 
o’ the folks, an’ I ain’t the one to say 
there was anythin’ cur’us in that. Then 
we went around and saw all the rest of 
the things, and the men folks got so sor¬ 
ter intrusted in some hoss-racin’ that it 
was along quite late when we got round 
to go and eat our vittles. On our way 
to the wagon. Si sorter hung back with 
the women folks, and sez he: “I’m in 
hopes you’ve brought one of them squash 
pies of yourn, Hepsey; I’ve got a hole 
in me hig as a woodchuck, an’ seems to 
me one of them would taste real good.” 
I was goin’ to sort of pass it off, but 
Hetty May spoke right up: “Ma put it 
in the show,” sez she. I could ’a’ slap¬ 
ped her with a good will. Wal, you ought 
to have heard the howdydo—all the men 
folks turned round and pitched in—they 
was a good rod ahead, but trust men 
folks for bearin’ when you’re talkin’ 
about vittles an’ sich. Land, you’d 
have thought I was goin’ to starve ’em 
to death and that I hadn’t brought a 
single other thing to eat. 
Wal—the upshot on it was that I fin¬ 
ally give in an’ promised to go back and 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use“Mrs.Wins¬ 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It Is the Best.— Adr. 
fake my pie out, providin’ them judges 
hadn’t set on it and made it more squash 
’n it set out to be. So back we all trail¬ 
ed—Hetty May hated to like a dog, but 
I made her, for I felt as if she got us 
into all this fuss—I leadin’ off an’ the 
men folks taggin’ on behind, to see that 
I didn’t back out when I got there. I 
wanted to stop a minute when we got 
to that blazin’ star quilt, but the men 
folks wouldn’t hear of it, you’d ’a’ 
thought they was about to starve right 
in their tracks. An’ so we got to the 
row o’ pies, an’ there, right in the mid¬ 
dle of ’em all, set my pie, marked full 
and plain, “Mrs. Hepsey Bassett, ’Sonet, 
First Prize.” You could ’a’ knocked me 
down with a feather, I was that beat, 
and Hetty May, she looked for all the 
world as if she’d been made a queen, or 
president of our Sewing Circle. Even Sam 
yelled out: “Bully for you, ma! Bully 
for you,” and I could see that all the 
folks was impressed. So I turned 
around sort o’ majestic-like, an’ I sez 
with a grain o’ sarcasm: Wal, I guess 
you won’t get that pie for your dinner 
this time, after all your traipsin’. They 
didn’t say nothin’, but the men folks 
turned round pretty sudden an’ traveled 
off towards the sheds. I sorter waited 
a minute just to see how my name 
looked with “First Prize” tacked on to 
it, an’ just then up stepped that same 
young feller, smilin’ as a basket o’ chips, 
an’ sez he: “The judges didn’t seem to 
spile your pie very much, did they? 
Of course they had to take one piece out 
to sample it.” 
Wal—sez 1—I don’t know as they did, 
and I don’t know as they did not. I 
can’t reely blame ’em for takin’ a small 
piece out for a sample, though if they 
was my men folks they wouldn’t have 
stopped off short of the whole thing. 
Why—they’re out there now, mad as 
hornets to think they can’t have that 
pie for dinner. You’d think they 
couldn’t relish any other vittles at all. 
At that he sorter laffed, and looked at 
Hetty May, an’ then walked off and 
talked to another man that was standin’ 
near by. I took Hetty May by the arm 
and walked her across to the bedquilts, 
for she’s real sharp at takin’ patterns. 
Hetty May is. We hadn’t been there 
more’n two minutes when I felt some¬ 
body a-touchin’ my arm, an’ land sakes 
ef there wa’n’t that same spruce young 
feller again—smiliner than ever—cf so 
could be^—an’ with my pie in his hand. 
He made a regular dancin’ school bow, 
an’ stuck out that pie towards me, an’ 
sez he: “It seems a great pity that no¬ 
body should enjoy this delicious pie,” 
sez he, “an’ if you’re in a great hurry 
to go, w'hy I guess we can oblige you 
by lettin’ you take your pie just a lit¬ 
tle early.” An’ then he made another 
great bow, and handed me over a spick- 
and-span new two-dollar bill, an’ sez 
he: “I’m real proud to present the 
prize to you, Mrs. Bassett.” 
.4t first I scai'cely sensed it. but then 
I grabbed Hetty May by the arm an’ 
marched her off to where our folks was. 
I wished afterwards I’d a-asked the 
young feller to come too—he was so 
polite—but I was so flustered I didn’t 
think. 
Wal—at any rate, there sot the men 
around the wagon, gloomy as anything, 
gittin’ ready to eat the baked beans and 
vittles the other women had brought. 
You’d Older seen Sam laff: “Wal—if 
it don’t take ma,” he sez. “First—she 
takes the prize, and then she makes 
’em give her the pie back for dinner. 
That is the beateree!” 
It ain’t hurt it any, sez I—an’ I guess 
it wasn’t, by the way those men fell to 
on it an’ cleaned up every crumb. 
Then Si tackled up, an’ we started for 
home, but not before all of us women 
folks had been down to the village an’ 
laid out that whole two-dollar bill on 
.good yaller caliker. An’ Hetty May 
an’ me, we pieced a bedquilt this Winter 
that was as far beyond that Ta’nton one 
as that was ahead of the stars in the 
firmament above, as Scripter says. You 
step right up to the north chamber an’ 
take a look at it; but don’t mention it 
around, for it’s to be in Hetty May’s 
settin’ out—trossoo, they call it—when 
she marries that Ta’nton feller—come 
Thanksgivin’, an’ I ain’t only just told 
two or three to the sewin’ circle, an’ 
Deacon Blodgett’s wife, an’ A’nt Sophie 
Pierce, an’ one or two others. 
It’s a dead secret. Step right this 
way.—Winifred Arnold in Everybody’s 
Magazine. 
Sweet Potato Pie.—lane a deep pie 
dish with puff pastry. Steam large po¬ 
tatoes until tender, peel, and slice them 
thin. Filling the dish, add one cupful 
of sugar, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 
one tablespoonful of butter, one-half cup 
of water, one tablespoonful of corn¬ 
starch sifted over, and one teaspoonful 
each of cinnamon and ginger. Cover 
with a top crust and bake in a quick 
oven. 
CooKixo CoKX.—On page G19 Mrs. 
Hymers gives, among other recipes for 
preparing sweet corn, one for boiling it. 
This, in my opinion, contains a radical 
error, viz., the advice to set on with cold 
water. As I grow sweet corn for market 
I have made the subject something of a 
study, and I am of the opinion that the 
quicker process of dropping into a 'arge 
quantity of salted boiling water,- leaving 
it in five or six minutes and then taking 
out at once is much the better. There 
is a delicate aroma about properly cook¬ 
ed sweet corn which is lost by too long 
steeping, much the same as tea leaves 
lose their aroma and impart it to water 
which is used as a beverage. w. i>. 
In comparing Grain-0 and coffee 
remember that while the taste is 
the same Grain-O gives health and 
strength while coffee shatters the 
nervous system and breeds disease 
of the digestive organs. Thinking 
people prefer Grain-O and its ben¬ 
efits. 
TRY IT TO-DAY. 
At grocers everywhere ; 15c. and 25c. per paclcagA 
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