“What will Hon. Mr Bobb say,” I rebuke, “when he return to dinner each p. m. and find his Love growing less and less? Would you shrink thusly from the hand that feeds you?”
“If that hand did not feed me so much, perhapsly I would be less mountainous,” she gollup.
Yet she were determined. With immediate quickness she send to Hon. Dr Physician and get Aunty Fat cure. Following was recipe for it:
1st—Make things disagreeable for self and others.
2st—Dress in rubber shirt-waist & exercise until entirely unhappy. Keep on doing so.
3st—Avoid sleep by keeping awake.
4st—Avoid foods in any form. Beef tea & hard tack may be used as a substitute. Add Gen. Discomfort.
5st—Keep away from pleasant thoughts, as these are very fatty.
6st—Shun all proteids, caryatids and asteroids.
Mr Editor, did you ever try to cook for a lady what requires nothing to eat but hard tack & beef tea? Such work might be easy, but it ain’t. Supplying her with meals were like feeding canned vacuum to camels—light work, but deliciously scientific.