HER ADOPTIVE PARENTS. “Ans, the next time you twist hay f’r the fire, I wish’t you’d dodge the damp spots,” said the cook, rising from a prolonged scrutiny of the stove and the bread in the oven. His pose was threatening. “Cooks are always grumblin’,” calmly remarked Anson, drawing on his gloves preparatory to going out to the barn; “but seein’ ‘s this is Chris’mus, I’ll go out an’ knock a barrel to pieces. I want them biscuit to be O.K. See?” “Yes: I see.” “Say, Bert
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