Cucumber Milk
"Vanilla or lemon?" Matilda asked.
"It doesn't say ice-cream, it just says cold cream. 'Cucumber milk is excellent for freckles or tan, and----'"
"I reckon I won't hear no more," said Matilda. Her lips were compressed into a thin tight line. "I can stand the carriages that are to be driv' standin' up, and the lovely imps and the nose pinchin' and the caps for the ears, but when it comes to goin' out every mornin' to milk the cucumbers, I don't feel called on to set and listen to it. The man what wrote that piece was as crazy as a loon, and if five million people read his paper every week, four million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand and nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em know it. I ain't sayin' who's the one that don't."
She sailed majestically out of the room with her head held high, and her frowsy grey hair bristling with indignation. Grandmother's lower jaw dropped in amazement for a moment, then she returned to the paper. "Milkin' the cucumbers don't seem quite right," she said to herself, "but there it is in print, as plain as day."
For the first time her faith in the printed word wavered. "Maybe there's some special kind of cucumber," she mused, "that gives milk. We used to hear 'em called cowcumbers. Why'd they be called that if they didn't give milk? There's only the two kinds as far as I know--the tame and wild, and the wild ones--" The light of pure intellectual joy dawned upon the puzzled old face. "Of course. Don't I remember the white sticky juice inside the wild ones? That's it! Wait till I tell Matilda!"
Grandmother Sees the Stranger
Triumphantly she returned to The Household Guardian, and, in her new allegiance, read every line of every advertisement before folding it carefully and putting it away with the others. "Good for freckles and tan," she said to herself, meditatively, "but it didn't say nothin' about warts. Maybe that'll be in next week's paper."
While she sat looking out of the window a woman passed, walking so slowly that Grandmother had plenty of time to observe her. As the stranger turned her head neither to the right nor the left, the old lady's intense scrutiny was attended by no embarrassment.
From the fragmentary description that had come her way, she at once recognised Mrs. Lee--the tall, straight figure in a gown of pale green linen, the dainty, regular features, and the crown of wonderful hair, radiating sunlit splendour, as she wore no hat.