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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Her Father's Daughter"

"Anyone at your house like it?"
"Every one of us," answered Donald. "We're all batty about cress
salad--and, say, that reminds me of something! If you know so
much about this canyon and everything in it, is there any place
in it where a fellow could find a plant, a kind of salad lettuce,
that the Indians used to use?"
"Might be," said Linda carelessly. "For why?"
"Haven't you heard of the big sensation that is being made in
feminine circles by the new department in Everybody's Home?"
inquired Donald. "Mother and Mary Louise were discussing it the
other day at lunch, and they said that some of the recipes for
dishes to be made from stuff the Indians used sounded delicious.
One reminded them of cress, and when we saw the cress I wondered
if I could get them some of the other."
"Might," said Linda drily, "if you could give me a pretty good
idea of what it is that you want."
"When you know cress, it's queer that you wouldn't know other
things in your own particular canyon," said Donald.
Linda realized that she had overdone her disinterestedness a
trifle.
"I suspect it's miners' lettuce you want," she said. "Of course
I know where there's some, but you will want it as fresh as
possible if you take any, so we'll finish our day first and
gather it the last thing before we leave."
How it started neither of them noticed, but they had not gone far
before they were climbing the walls and hanging to precarious
footings.


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