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"I am terribly hungry." "So am I," echoed Paul. "So am I," agreed Franz. "I was about to suggest that you take dinner with us," said their host. "It is quite a distance to the next public house." "What will you have for dinner, Mr. Swan?" "Liverwurst, roast potatoes, stewed pears, and warm brown bread with butter." "I love every one of those things," remarked Franz.
In another pan she put the slices of liverwurst for Fritz to watch, and Paul, who had first been sent to the kitchen to wash his hands, put the slices of rich ham upon a pretty pink plate, and fresh lettuce upon another, and placed them upon the table, while Mrs. Steiner cut the bread and got a pitcher of new milk.
This was done and the plate placed on the floor by the window, and the heart of Fritz was filled with pleasure to see Pixy's appreciation of the good supper. The potatoes and liverwurst, both beautifully browned, were placed upon the table, and all sat down. "Did I set the table nicely, Aunt Fanny?" asked Fritz. "Yes, very well indeed, except that you forgot the napkins.
"It's a pretty good article in camp," said Mr. Symes desperately to keep the ball rolling. The guests shrieked with mirthless laughter at the suggestion of rough camp life. "Gosh! me and Gus was weaned and raised on bean soup and liverwurst," interjected Adolph Kunkel in the lull which followed, and immediately squirmed under Mrs. Symes's blazing eyes.
The current number has this literary feast to set before you: an article on the stokers and coal bunkers of battleships, an exposé of the methods employed in making liverwurst, a continued story of a Standard Preferred International Baking Powder deal in Wall Street, a 'poem' on the bear that the President missed, another 'story' by a young woman who spent a week as a spy making overalls on the East Side, another 'fiction' story that reeks of the 'garage' and a certain make of automobile.
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