THE BEGUILER OR THE INVALID’S FRIEND _A Miscellany_ COMPILED BY EVANGELINE BARRANCE ASSISTED BY A BUNCH OF FLOWERS PEOPLE WHO REALLY DESERVE THE O.B.E. I. COOK If ever there was a heroine in real life it is Cook. She has to be all the time in the kitchen even when the sun shines and the birds are singing. The kitchen must be hot or the things wouldn’t be properly done for dinner. She is always cooking things for other people and she doesn’t get anything to eat till they have finished, although of course she can taste as she goes along. This is a delicious thing to do, and when she is in a good humour she lets us dip our fingers in, but usually she says “Don’t stop here hindering me.” She never goes out except to see if there is another egg or to pick mint or parsley or to talk to the butcher’s boy, who is terrified of her. Sometimes she has to catch a chicken and kill it and afterwards she has to pluck it. Our cook is very fat and when she goes upstairs she holds her side and pants. On Sundays she doesn’t go to Church but to Chapel and she wears very bright colours. She had a lover once but he died. His portrait is in her bedroom with his funeral card under it. She says that her troth is in the tomb with him and never can she marry another. She also says that the talk about cooks and policemen having a natural attraction for each other is nonsense. Her masterpieces are apple charlotte, bread-and-butter pudding, and Lancashire hot pot. She also makes delicious stews, which are better than other cooks’, mother says, because she fries the vegetables first. Her name is Gladys Mary but we call her Cook. She says that after a certain age, cooks have the right to be called Mrs., but that she is a very long way from that age herself. We are all horribly afraid that she will give notice, because a new one would be so hard to get. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for her. She could cook as badly as she liked and no one would dare to say anything. But she cooks beautifully. She truly deserves the O.B.E. “ROSE” HISTORICAL RHYMES I. QUEEN ELIZABETH AND SIR WALTER RALEIGH It was a wet and windy day The ground was damp and dirty But yet the Queen she would not stay. They pressed her, she grew shirty. “A murrain on you,” she replied “_I_ care not for the weather.” And she went forth in all her pride In silk and ruff and feather. Beside her walked her courtiers gay Although with cold they shivered; How cold they were they dared not say Lest with a glance be withered. Look! in the middle of the road A puddle wide and frightening. “Wait, Madam!”—forward Raleigh strode His satin cloak untightening.