Frenziedly, then, she ran her finger down the
page.

``Onions, one and one-half hours. Use hot
water. Turnips require a long time, but if cut
thin they will cook in an hour and a quarter.''

``An hour and a quarter, indeed!'' she moaned.

``Isn't there anything anywhere that doesn't
take forever to cook?''

``Early peas-- . . . green corn-- . . . summer
squash-- . . .'' mumbled Billy's dry lips.
``But what do folks eat in January--_January_?''

It was the apparently inoffensive sentence,
``New potatoes will boil in thirty minutes,''
that brought fresh terror to Billy's soul, and set
her to fluttering the cookbook leaves with renewed
haste. If it took _new_ potatoes thirty minutes
to cook, how long did it take old ones? In
vain she searched for the answer. There were
plenty of potatoes. They were mashed, whipped,
scalloped, creamed, fried, and broiled; they were
made into puffs, croquettes, potato border, and
potato snow. For many of these they were boiled
first--``until tender,'' one rule said.

``But that doesn't tell me how long it takes to