she said, “but we haven’t room enough
for a dance, and we haven't money
enough to give them a party away
from home. What do you think about
having their crowd in for waffles Sun-
day night?”

“It sounds just right to me,” I
answered. “They all love them, and
they can eat and listen to the radio and
sit on the floor in front of the fire and
maybe catch their breath a minute.”

“They don’t want to catch their
breath,” Mrs. Donald answered with a
smile, “but I never saw them when
they would refuse waffles.”

The party was what Peter called a
“wow.”

At the side of the fireplace was a
card table where a waffle iron and
electric percolator stood ready for work.

In the dining alcove the larger table
was set for eight, a second waffle iron
and another percolator were plugged
in there, too. There was still a third
iron out in the kitchen to keep the
supply of waffles constant.

While the waffle irons were heating
and the first waffles were being baked,
the guests ate the thick, hot mushroom
soup, a dish for which Mrs. Donald
is locally famous. .

Then came round after round of
waflles, as fast as the flushed and happy
Joan and her roommate, Mary Carter,
could whisk them out of the irons.

They ate the first waffles with
creamed chicken, but after that it was
each waffle for itself —and nobody
knew how it would disappear. Some
favored powdered sugar, some jelly or
honey, and all of them took a turn
with the ubiquitous maple syrup, of
course. Between waffles they gave
languid interest to a crisp salad of
celery, cabbage and pears.

When everyone looked almost
through, but still capable of one more
waffle, Mrs. Donald brought in a new
pitcher of batter—and they finished off
with a round of pecan waffles topped

with strawberry jam and _ whipped
cream. That was dessert, you see.

A happy party, and an economical
one—for waffles cost next to nothing
to make, and the very best of lifetime
waffle irons are shown at B. C. Electric
stores priced most reasonably.

They Like Their Ironers.. .

HE electric ironing machine en-

ables you to do the job better, in
half the time, and without tiring your-
self.

Users of electric ironers are enthusi-
astic:

Here’s what Mrs. N. H. Heeny, of
587 West 20th, Vancouver, has to say:

“Before the advent of the Thor
ironer in my house it took me two or
three days to do my ironing—a job I
thoroughly detested. Now with the
Thor I do the same ironing in two or
three hours, and enjoy doing it, and
am not at all tired.”

Mrs. A. Goodman, of 1374 E. 47th,
Vancouver, writes to say: “Words
cannot express my appreciation of this
great labor and time-saving ironer.”

Hundreds of such letters are on file
-—proving that Vancouver women en-
thusiastically endorse the electric iron’
ing machine. »

Guest: “Say, waiter, how long must
I wait for that half chicken I ordered
half an hour ago?”

Waiter: “Until somebody comes in
and orders the other half. We can’t
go out and kill a half chicken.”

Mrs. Bangs: “Anyone would think
I was nothing but a cook in this
house.”

Mr. Bangs: “Not after a couple of
meals.”

Page Seven