A waiter would have known, and gone off shouting "Steak one," but I had to indicate the size with my hands. I didn't like the way he handled the meat,--he did not use a fork. "Can I send it for you, sir?" "Oh no," I said, "I'll take it with me." He wrapped it in a piece of old newspaper, and I nearly let it drop when I got it in my hand, it was so damp and flabby, like carrying a frog by the middle. There was no use trying to persuade myself that people would think it was a bunch of flowers; it was hanging limp down each side of my hand, and I had not gone far till the blood oozed through the paper. I felt like a cannibal. Of course the fire was to light again; and as I did not like the kitchen range, I lit the dining-room fire. I think Davidson would make a capital recruiting sergeant, he is so good at showing the bright side of things: he never alluded to the difficulty and pain connected with slicing onions. After getting the outer coat off I had to hold the onion at arm's length, my eyes were nipping so badly; then they are so slippery inside that it is almost impossible to keep a hold while cutting off a slice. Sometimes the knife went down with a bang on the table, and the onion would shoot out of my hand to the floor. The fire had plenty of time to burn up before the operation was concluded, and I was now ready for my great triumph. There was a very disagreeable feeling in unfolding the steak,--it felt so dead; but I dug a fork in it and landed it in the pan. I had no compunction about the onions; they had made me suffer. There is a sort of musical sound in the fritter from a pan; and I waited for the tempting smell, but it was not what I expected. It brought to mind the days of my boyhood when I was in a smithy and a hot shoe was being applied to a horse's foot. Hang it! the butter. "Where on earth is the butter?" I searched all the presses for it, and at last found it on the table beside me. I quickly put in a large piece, and in a second the fire blazed up the chimney. The confounded pan was leaking, and I had not noticed it at first. [Illustration: "THE CONFOUNDED PAN WAS LEAKING, AND I HAD NOT NOTICED IT" _By J. A. Ford_] The steak was ruined: one side was like charcoal, and the other quite raw. It was annoying. If I only had another steak and another pan, and some one to slice the onions, I could now do it all right. As it was, I had to wash myself and hurry out of the house to get away from the smell. The next morning I made my final attempt at cooking. I remembered about the milk, and took it and the paper in, reading the news while the milk boiled. It took so long that I forgot about it, till it suddenly boiled over, and the grate and the fender were in a fearful mess, and the fire nearly out, before I could lift it off.