Ma Pettengill

lieved it--but would go over it again if I didn't understand. Though not always starting at command, the lady has really a full habit of speech.

I told you about whales, didn't I? Whales started it--whales for table use. It come in the Sunday paper--with the picture of a handsome whale and the picture of a French cook kissing his fingers over the way he has cooked some of it; and the picture of a pleased young couple eating whale in a swell restaurant; and the picture of a fair young bride in her kitchenette cutting up three cents' worth of whale meat into a chafing dish and saying how glad she was to have something tasty and cheap for dearie's lunch; and the picture of a poor labouring man being told by someone down in Washington, D.C., that's making a dollar a year, that a nickel's worth of prime whale meat has more actual nourishment than a dollar's worth of porterhouse steak; and so on, till you'd think the world's food troubles was going to be settled in jig time; all people had to do was to go out an