“Bread, cereal and coffee for five cents!” exclaimed one of the men,
    pushing the empty tray from him, after draining the last drop of
    coffee in his mug.  “This kitchen’s all right.”

    Noon came.  The children from the school building trooped in.

“My mamma works in a factory,” said one.  “I used to get some cakes at a bakery at noontime.  Gee!  There’s raisins in this rice puddin’, ain’t there?” He carried the saucerful of pudding over to the table.  “Only three cents,” he whispered to the little girl beside him.  “You better get some, too.  That’ll leave you two cents for a cup of cocoa.”

    “Ain’t it a cinch!” exclaimed the little girl.

    Behind the counter the women who had made these things possible
    smiled happily and dished out pudding, beans and soup with generous
    impartiality.  The daughter of Mrs. Vanderbilt appeared.

    “I’m hungry, mother,” she cried.  “I’ll pay for my lunch.”

    “You’ll have to serve yourself,” was the rejoinder of the busy woman
    with the tin pail in her hand.  “There’s a tray at the end of the
    counter—­but don’t get in the way.”

    So rich and poor lunched together.

    “Oh, but I’m tired!” exclaimed a woman, who, satchel in hand,
    entered, late in the afternoon, “It’s hard to go home and cook
    after canvassing all day.  Will you mind if I eat supper here?”

    Then the women and children poured in with pails and dishes and
    pans.

    “We’re getting used to it now,” said one.  “It’s just like a store,
    you know, and it saves us a lot of work—­”

“And expense!  My land!” cried another.  “Why, my man has only been working half time, and the pennies count when you’ve got children to feed and clothe.  When I go to work by the day it’s little that’s cooked at home.  Now—­” She presented a dish as the line moved along.  “Beef stew for four,” she ordered, “and coffee in this pitcher, here.”

    (2)

    GATHERING IN THE RAW RECRUIT

    BY KINGSLEY MOSES

    MEN WANTED FOR THE UNITED STATES ARMY

A tall, gaunt farmer boy with a very dirty face and huge gnarled hands stood open-mouthed before the brilliant poster displayed before the small-town recruiting office.  In his rather dull mind he pictured himself as he would look, straight and dignified, in the khaki uniform, perhaps even with the three stripes of the sergeant on his arm.

“Fifteen dollars a month,” he thought to himself, “and board and clothes and lodgings and doctor’s bills.  Why, that’s more than I’m gettin’ now on the farm!  I’d see the world; I might even get to learn a regular trade.”  He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  “Well, I ain’t gettin’ nowhere now, that’s sure,” he concluded, and slowly climbed the stairs.