Friendship Bracelet Book Now Available

It's live! Friendship Bracelets That You CAN Make... ...Definitely! is now available for $2.99! Stop by and grab your copy. Better yet, grab your daughter's e-reader and surprise her with a copy.

I have tried very hard to make this the clearest, most definitive resource for learning how to make these colorful, little bracelets; but know that I am here to support you, if you need help. I would hate to think of someone getting frustrated and losing her enthusiasm just because she got hung up on one step.

Please let me know what you think, and remember, contact me here at the blog anytime, 24/7, if you get stuck.

Your Friend,

Gail

Friendship Bracelet Book Coming Soon!

Good Morning, Friends!

Just giving you a heads-up you'll want to share with your daughters and their friends: my newest Ebook, Easiest-Ever Friendship Bracelets That You CAN Tie... ...Definitely! is about to hit the 'net! This light-hearted, instructional book will teach you how to tie friendship bracelets, guaranteed. Not only that, but it's fun to read. I know I have been having fun writing it.

I wrote this book, because, for all the sources on how to tie friendship bracelets, my daughter, age 9, just couldn't figure it out. She tried websites, library books, kits, and friends.  I wasn't crazy about her sitting online while she learned, the books and kits were discouragingly hard and ignored the basics, and none of the friends seemed to have the hang of it, either. She asked for my help, and it took a lot of poking around and trial-and-error before I was able to tie anything worth wearing, never mind giving. If I didn't love my kid so much, I would not have had the patience!

Easiest-Ever Friendship Bracelets That You CAN Tie... ...Definitely! will save you the trouble I went through. It teaches two basic knots that will enable your daughter to make an endless and satisfying variety of friendship bracelets. Included are instructions, photos, support, and basic patterns; all at an affordable price.

It could be released at any time, so heads up! I will keep you posted!

Your Friend,

Gail

PS - Also featured in the book will be the world's first paw-model!

Free Short Story Study: Vengeance by Chekov

Good Day, Teachers & Homeschoolers!

Welcome to my free unit study from my short story curriculum, The Classical Reader: Short Stories of Action & Adventure. Reprinted from the Tachers' Edition, it gives you all the materials needed to teach the classic short story, Vengeance by Anton Chekov. The full curriculum, available through Amazon, has this and fifteen more stories, similarly treated.

I had a great time making up the student materials for this book, and found I love making up all the extra stuff that goes into assessment materials, such as the wrong answers on multiple choice, and the false statements for the true-and-false questions. This, in turn, has made a set of materials that will bring the material alive for your students, especially boys, who can be reluctant readers. After all, the idea of teaching literature is to promote a lifelong love of literature, right? One cannot do that with dull materials.

ONE CAVEAT: on the matching sections of the worksheet and quiz, everything just scrolls down in one, single column, rather than the traditional two columns. This means that the student will not have what he is trying to match side by side, about which he will, undoubtedly, complain...and with good reason! That is why the workbook and quizbook are available ONLY IN PAPERBACK for now. In the paperback editions, everything appears as it should, which you can confirm using the Look Inside feature on their respective pages at Amazon.

 Enjoy!


 Vengeance

 by Anton Chekov


 LYEV Sawitch Turmanov, a worthy citizen who possessed a nice little fortune, a nice little wife, and a nice little bald spot on his head, was celebrating the birthday of one of his friends with a game of cards. After a strenuous effort which covered his forehead with perspiration, he suddenly recollected that he and the bottle had been strangers for quite a long time.

He rose and, balancing himself on his tiptoes between the tables, went into the guest room where the youngsters were dancing. Here he smiled graciously and with a fatherly caress he patted the shoulders of a young skinny druggist, slipping forthwith through a little door which led into the dining room. On a little round table in this room stood bottles and glasses with whiskey. . . Among other refreshments he spied a plate contain- ing half a herring alluringly decorated with onions and parsley.

Lyev Sawitch filled a glass, made a gesture as though about to deliver a speech, emptied the glass and made a wry face. Then he jabbed the herring with the fork and. . . . But suddenly he overheard voices behind the wall.

"Very well," spoke a woman's voice, "but when ?"

"My wife," said Lyev Sawitch to himself, recognizing the voice. "I wonder whom she is talking to?"

"Whenever you desire," replied a deep and heavy bass.

"Today it is not convenient, tomorrow I shall be busy the whole day. . ."

"This is Dentjarev," thought Lyev recognizing the bass voice of his friend. "Et tu, Brute ! And so she has caught you, too, in her net? By Jove, nothing seems to satisfy her. I've never seen such a restless woman in my life! Not a single day can she live through without her little romance!"

"Yes, tomorrow I shall be busy," continued the heavy bass. What do you say to writing me a little note? That will give me great pleasure. . . But we must introduce some system into our correspondence. Let's see if we can't find some way. It isn't a bit safe to send our letters through the mail. Your turkey is liable to intercept our correspondence in that way. And when you write to me, my wife might sometimes open the letter in my absence, and then ! . . . "

"What shall we do, then?"

"We've got to find some way, It won't do to send them through a servant, for your lobster of a husband is surely watching the servants. . . I wonder whether he's still at that game of cards?"

"Yes, and he always loses, too, the big boob!"

"He must be lucky in love, then," laughed Dentjarev. . . "Now, listen, my little girlie. I've hit upon a plan. On my way from the office tomorrow at six o'clock I pass by the Public Garden where I am to meet the Inspector. And so, sweetheart, I want you to manage just a little before six, but not later, to place a note for me in the marble vase that stands to the left of the grapevine arbor. Do you know the place I mean ? ' '

"Certainly I do."

"That will be poetical and mysterious and unique. And in this way neither your wooden-headed meal ticket nor my old shrew will know anything about it. Do you understand?"

Lyev Sawitch emptied another glass and returned to the game. The discovery which he had just made did not surprise him; it did not even arouse his jealousy or anger. He had long outgrown the habit of scolding and fuming and raging and even occasionally beating his wife for her misbehavior. He had long ago given up all hope and nowadays he merely looked through his fingers at his wife's romantic vagaries. And yet he was now feeling uncomfortable. His pride and self-love were touched to the quick at such appellations as "boob," "lobster," and "wooden-headed meal ticket."

"Ye gods, what a blackguard this Dentjarev is !" he thought as he marked down his score. "When he meets me in the street he pretends to be a good friend, grinning and patting me in the belly; and yet see what he can do behind my back. When he speaks to me man to man, I'm his friend, and when he talks behind my back, lo and behold! I'm a boob and a lobster. . ."

And the more he lost at the game, the more indignant he felt.

"Why, his mother's milk is still wet on his lips," he thought, crushing in his rage the piece of chalk which he held. "He's nothing but a little snipe. . . If it were not for the fact that I wouldn't condescend to slap his face, I'd show him what a wooden-headed meal ticket can do!"

 At supper he was unable to look Dentjarev straight in the face, although the latter seemed as if on purpose determined to annoy him with his questions. Had he won or lost? Why was he so sad? and so forth. He even had the nerve to scold Lyev's wife for not being sufficiently careful of her husband's health. . . And his wife, as though nothing had happened, looked at her husband with buttery eyes, chatting so innocently and laughing so genuinely that the devil himself could not have accused her of faithlessness.

And when he came home, Lyev Sawitch felt angry and dis- satisfied, as though he had eaten old rubbers instead of veal for supper. He might have made an effort to forget the whole incident were it not for his wife's laughter and prattle which reminded him every minute of the boob, the lobster, the wooden-headed meal ticket.

"I should have punched him in the jaw, that low life," he thought. "Right in front of everybody. . ."

And he pictured to himself how nice it would be to thrash Dentjarev, or to challenge him and shoot him like a bird. . . It wouldn't be a bad idea to make him lose his job. . . Or perhaps

it would be best to put some disgusting object into the marble vase, something with a nasty smell, a dead rat for instance. . . Perhaps he might abscond his wife's letter and put in its place a silly poem signed "Your Akulyka," or something else of that sort.

For a long time he paced through his bedroom cooling his rage with these reveries. Suddenly he stopped and slapped his forehead.

"Hooray, I've got it!" he exclaimed, beaming with joy. ' ' This is a wonderful idea ! Excellent ! ' '

"When his wife fell asleep, he sat down near the table and after long deliberation, disguising his handwriting and purposely committing a number of errors, he penned the following :

"To the Merchant Dulinov. Dere Sir: —

If up to six oclock dis evenin, the twelvth of September, you fale to put two hundred dollars inter the marble vaze wieh is situaited in the Public Garden, just to the left of the graip-vine arber, you will be a dead man and your dry-gudes store will be blown up."

And signing this missive, Lyev Sawitch jumped up enthusiastically. "Isn't this a wonderful plan?" he growled rubbing his hands together. "Immense, even if I do say so myself ! Beelzebub himself couldn't have hit upon a happier idea! It is quite certain that the storekeeper Dulinov will get so scared that he will immediately notify the police. And they will surely send a number of detectives who will hide themselves among the bushes and watch. . . At six o'clock, when Dentjarev comes for his letter, they will nab the poor bloke, — and by Jove, won't he get pepper to smell!. . . He'll be scared blue, and before everything is cleared up, the rascal will get a good chance to cool his amorous ardor in jail. . . And it will serve him right, too. . . Bravo, Lyev Sawitch!..."

He put a stamp on the envelope and going downstairs deposited it himself in the letter box.

He fell asleep with a radiant smile playing upon his lips. For many a long night had he not slept so sweetly and so soundly.

When he awoke in the morning and recalled his plan he felt so happy that he actually began to purr and even went so far as to flirt with his faithless wife. . .

On his way to work and later, while sitting in his office, he kept smiling to himself as he pictured Dentjarev's terror on finding himself caught in the trap. . .

Toward six o'clock he could restrain himself no longer and ran to the Public Garden in order to witness with his own eyes the downfall of his enemy.

"Aha!" he thought, seeing a policeman in the vicinity.

Arriving at the well-known arbor he sat down behind a tree and, fixing his sharp, stern eyes upon the vase, awaited the arrival of Dentjarev. He sat as if on pins and needles in his impatience.

Precisely at six Dentjarev appeared. The young man was evidently in a very good humor. His silk hat encircled his head at a coquettish angle, and through his unbuttoned coat his very soul seemed to glitter together with his vest. He was smoking a cigar and whistling a merry tune. . .

"Now, you big slob, I'll show you who is a lobster and a wooden-headed meal ticket!" chuckled Turmanov. "You just wait!"

Dentjarev approached the vase and languidly put his hand into it. . . Lyev Sawitch half rose and fixed his eyes upon him. . . The young man took a tiny package out of the vase, carefully examined it on all sides and shrugged his shoulders. Then he undid the package, shrugged his shoulders again and opened his mouth in astonishment; the package contained two brand new one hundred dollar bills. . .

Dentjarev looked long at these bills. Finally, shrugging his shoulders once more, he put them into his pocket and said, "Many thanks!"

Poor Lyev Sawitch heard these words "many thanks." That entire evening he stood opposite Dulinov's dry-goods store, shook his fist at the sign and raged:

"You coward ! You soul of a penny store-keeper! Pinhead! Ass! You pot-bellied rabbit you ! . . . "

Workbook AssignmentsWB Page: Vengeance by Anton Chekov

I. Short answer
Please answer on a separate piece of paper, if necessary.

1, 2. Often, a short story will have a protagonist (the hero) and an antagonist (his enemy). Name the protagonist and the antagonist in this story.

Protagonist:

Antagonist:


3. What made Lyev Sawitch angry?


4, 5. Write two of the insulting names Lyev Sawitch is called by his wife and Dentjarev.


6. What do Dentjarev and the wife plan to do?




II. Circle the best answer

7. Lyev Sawitch is upset by his wife's behavior because...

A. she and Dentjarev humiliated him with their insults.
B. it could cause him to lose his job.
C. she punched him in the jaw, right in front of everybody.
D. she had never done anything like that before.
E. Dentjarev was his boss.


8. Lyev Sawitch planned to have his revenge on them by...

punching Dentjarev in the jaw, right in front of everybody.
setting up Dentjarev for extortion.
C. shooting Dentjarev like a bird.
D. thrashing Dentjarev.
E. putting some disgusting object into the marble
urn.









9. Which of the following did Lyev Sawitch have to do to set his plan into action?

Send a text message
Send a telegram
Write and mail a letter
Rig a trip wire
Wear a costume


10. What did Dentjarev find in the urn?
A. mousetrap
B. ping pong balls
C. honey
D. money
E. poison


III. True or false?
Underline the correct choice.

11. At the end of the story, Lyev Sawitch reacted by yelling insults at Dulinov's dry-goods store.
True or false?

12. The lesson taught by this story is it doesn't pay to take revenge on your enemies, as it can backfire on you.
True or false?

13. Anton Chekov was Russian.
True or false?

14. Two other famous Russian authors were Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky.
True or false?

IV. Match the vocabulary word with its meaning.
Place the correct choice beside the corresponding vocabulary word.

____ 15. alluring

____ 16. wry

____ 17. appellation

____ 18. blackguard

____ 19. condescend

____ 20. reverie

____ 21. deliberation

____ 22. missive

____ 23. ardor

____ 24. coquettish

____ 25. languid


A. dishonorable man

B. patronize

C. daydream

D. flirty

E. lazy

F. passion

G. letter

H. careful consideration

I. title

J. disgusted-looking

K. attractive

V. Composition
Continue the story for 500 words using separate paper as needed.



Quiz: Vengeance


Vocabulary: Circle the letter the best definition for each word.

wry
A. disgusted-looking
B. pick
C. vengeance
D. Letter
E. title

2. appellation
A. passion
B. pick
C. title
D. letter
E. vengeance

3. blackguard
A. vengeance
B. pick
C. title
D. careful consideration
E. dishonorable man

4. condescend
A. vengeance
B. title
C. patronize
D. flirt
E. carefully consider

5. reverie
A. vengeance
B. daydream
C. flirty
D. title
E. lazy

6. deliberation
A. title
B. laziness
C. flirting
D. careful consideration
E. daydreaming

7. missive
A. lazy
B. careful consideration
C. flirting
D. daydream
E. letter

8. ardor
A. daydream
B. flirting
C. careful consideration
D. laziness
E. passion

9. coquettish
A. daydream
B. pick
C. lazy
D. considerate
E. flirty

10. languid
A. pick
B. daydream
C. passionate
D. disgusted-looking
E. lazy

11. alluring
A. vengeance
B. pick
C. title
D. careful consideration
E. attractive


II. Match the best answer, indicating the correct letter on the line provided.

____ 12. Lyev Sawitch
____ 13. Dentjarev
____ 14. Turmanov
____ 15. Dulinov

A. Merchant
B. Protagonist
C. Antagonist
D. Lyev Sawitch's last name



III. Underline "True" or "false."

16. Dulinov found a dead rat in the urn.
True or false?

17. To put his plan into action, Lyev Sawitch had to write a letter, mail the letter, and call the police.
True or false?

18. Lyev Sawitch tried to frame Dentjarev for a crime.
True or false?

19. Lyev Sawitch's plan of vengeance backfired.
True or false?

20. The wife had never cheated on her husband before.
True or false?

New! Short Story Curric for Young Men

Good Day!

I am back at my desk and thrilled to announce the release of  The Classical Reader: Short Stories of Action & Adventure, a short story curriculum for the manly young man in your life, or the young lady who likes to read about them. I must confess, though not young, I fall into the latter catagory, and had an absolute blast creating this fabulous curriculum. My poor husband has spent the summer competing for my attention with the likes of Sherlock Holmes, Raffles (gentleman thief), Father Brown, and other assorted knights, pirates, and the occasional hapless fool.

The curriculum contains 16 classic short stories with assignments, and quizzes; enough to fill a full year of high school, or to do a short story unit every year for all four years of high school.

Available, just in time for back-to-school, are the text book, workbook, quizbook, and teachers' edition in paper back, and the text in ebook.

Pop on over to Amazon and have a peek:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Classical-Reader-Adventure-Teachers/dp/1492228168/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1377311695&sr=8-4&keywords=gail+mcgaffigan



Thank you for all your prayers and kind wishes during my illness. I would not have made it without you!

Gail

Gail McGaffigan Stricken, at Home; Grateful for Survival

Dear Friends,

I have been hospitalized in Neural Intensive Care since Wed., Jan. 21, after suffering a ruptured brain aneurism. I will be here for some time. Although my recovery is a very painful road, I am expecting an excellent outcome.

It will be a while before I'm well enough to write again. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy my existing blogs and books.

Please do not send any flowers or money, but cards and letters would be very much appreciated; not just for myself, but also for my husband and children who are struggling with this.
(I do not wish to attract spammers, but please be sure to address this as you would a typical PO Box)...

Mrs. Gail McGaffigan
Post Office Box SIX TWO TWO TWO
Warwick, Rhode Island ZERO TWO EIGHT EIGHT SEVEN

This is also a critical time to pray for me not to have a relapse; I am at high risk for that for at least another week, before my chances begin to improve. Pray that I do not suffer any "vasospasms," or at least that I am strong enough to bear them.

Sincerely,

Gail

Killer Ride: Sample Chapter+Biscotti Recipe Bonus

Happy New Year, one and all! Here's a little something to chase away those winter blues: a sample chapter from my adventure book for young people (and the young-at-heart), Killer Ride. To further sweeten things, I have gotten a hold of an authentic Italian recipe from Mrs. Martini, the Stone family's housekeeper. The recipe appears at the end of this post (and it's fat-free).

CHAPTER 4
Justin Makes a Deal

   When Justin reached the still figure on the grass at the foot of the old oak tree, the youth bent quickly over the man. There was an ugly cut on his head, and blood was flowing from it; but Justin quickly noticed that the stranger was breathing steadily.
   "Well, he's not dead...just yet!" exclaimed the youth with a sigh of relief. "But I guess he's pretty badly hurt. I'd better get help...no, I'll take him into our house. It's not far. I'll call Dad."
   Leaning his wheel against the tree Justin started for his home, about three hundred feet away, and then he noticed that the stranger's motorcycle was running at full speed on the ground.
   "Guess I'd better shut off the power!" he exclaimed. "No use letting the machine be ruined." Justin had a natural love for machinery, and it hurt him almost as much to see a piece of fine apparatus abused, as it did to see an animal mistreated. It only took a moment to shut it off, and then the youth raced on toward his house.
   "Where's Dad?" he called to Mrs. Martini, who was washing the dishes.
    "Out in one of the shops," replied the housekeeper. "Tutto bene, Justin," she went on hurriedly, as she saw how upset he was, "what has happened?"
   "Man hurt...out in front...motorcycle smash...I'm going to bring him in here...get some things ready...I'll find Dad!"
   "Mamma mia!" cried Mrs. Martini. "Ma che dici? Who's hurt? How did it happen, Zhustino? Is he dead?"
   "No time to talk now!" answered Justin, rushing from the house. "Dad and I will bring him in here."
Justin found his father in one of the three small workshops on the grounds of the Stone property. The youth quickly told what had happened.
   "Of course, we'll bring him right in here!" assented Mr. Stone, putting aside his work. "Did you tell Mrs. Martini?"
   "Yes, and she's all upset."
   "Well, she gets that way. Has she lapsed into Italian yet?"
   "Not completely."
   "Then I suppose we'll manage. Do you know the man?"
   "Never saw him before today, when he almost ran me down. Guess he doesn't know much about motorcycles...but come on, Dad. He could bleed to death."
   Father and son hurried to where the stranger lay. As they bent over him, he opened his eyes and asked faintly, "Where am I? What happened?"
   "You're all right...in good hands," said Mr. Stone. "Are you hurt badly?"
   "Not much...mostly stunned, I guess. What happened?" he repeated.
   "You and your motorcycle tried to climb a tree," remarked Justin with grim humor.
   "Oh, right, I remember now. I couldn't seem to steer out of the way, and I couldn't shut off the power in time. Is the motorcycle damaged much?"
   "The front wheel is," reported Justin, after an inspection, "and there are some other breaks, but I guess..."
   "I wish it was all smashed!" exclaimed the man vigorously. "I never want to see it again!"
   "Why, don't you like it?" asked Justin disbelievingly. He bent over to get a closer look at the beautiful Yamaha custom motorcycle, that was now laying silent on the ground. It must've cost the guy a bundle, and didn't even have any wear on the tires.
   "No, and I never will," the man spoke faintly but determinedly.
   "Never mind, now," interposed Mr. Stone. "Don't excite yourself. My son and I will take you to our house and call ahead to your doctor."
   "I'll bring the motorcycle, after we've carried you in," added Justin.
   "Don't worry about the machine. I never want to see it again!" went on the man, rising to a sitting position.                      "It nearly killed me twice to day. I'll never ride again."
   "You'll feel differently after the doctor fixes you up," said Mr. Stone with a smile.
   "Doctor! I don't need a doctor," cried the stranger. "I am only bruised and shaken up."
   "You have a bad cut on your head," said Justin.
   "It isn't very deep," went on the injured man, placing his fingers on it. "Fortunately, I only struck the tree a glancing blow. If you will allow me to rest in your house a little while and give me some First Aid for the cut, I'll be all right again."
   "Can you walk, or should we carry you?" asked Justin's father.
   "Oh, I can walk, if you'll support me a little." The stranger proved that he could do this by getting to his feet and taking a few steps. Mr. Stone and his son took hold of his arms and led him to the house. There, he was placed on a lounge and given some basic First Aid by Mrs. Martini, who, when she found the accident was not serious, recovered her composure.
   "I must have been unconscious for a few minutes," went on the man.
   "You were," explained Justin. "When I got to you, I thought you were dead, until I saw you breathe. Then, I shut off the power on your machine and ran in for Dad. I've got the motorcycle outside. You can't ride it for some time, I'm afraid, Mr....er..." and Justin stopped in some confusion, for he realized that he did not know the man's name.
   "Oh, excuse me for not introducing myself before," went on the stranger. "I'm Carl Watson, of Sugarcreek. Don't worry about me riding that machine again. Never again."
   "Oh, you might feel differently later..." began Mr. Stone.
   "No, I never will," went on Mr. Watson positively. "My doctor told me to get it; he thought riding around the country would improve my health. Just wait 'til I tell him his prescription nearly killed me."
   "And me too," added Justin with a laugh.
   "How...why...are you the same young man I nearly ran down this morning?" asked Mr. Watson, suddenly sitting up and looking at the youth.
   "I am," answered our hero.
   "For Pete's sake! So you are!" cried Mr. Watson. "I was wondering who it could be. It's quite a coincidence. Boy, I was in such a cloud of dust I couldn't tell who it was."
   "You had your muffler open, and that raised some big dust," explained Justin.
   "Was that what did it? Good grief! I thought something was wrong, but I couldn't tell what. I went over all the instructions in the book and those the salesman told me, but I couldn't think of the right one. I tried all sorts of things to make less dust, but I couldn't. Then, the machine quit just after I nearly ran into you. I tinkered over it for an hour or more before I could get it to going again. Then, that darned tree jumped out in front of me. My doctor told me the machine would do my liver good, but, fiddlesticks, I'd rather be without a liver than do anymore of what I've done today. I am done with motorcycling!"
A hopeful look came over Justin's face, but he said nothing; that is, not just then. In a little while, Mr. Watson felt so much better, he said he would start for home. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave your machine here," said Justin.
   "You can send for it anytime you want to," added Mr. Stone.
   "Crikey!" exclaimed Mr. Watson, who appeared to be very fond of strange exclamations. "Bust my buttons! I never want to see it again! If you will be so kind as to keep it for me, I will send a junk man after it. I will never spend anything on having it repaired. I am done with that form of exercise...liver or no liver...doctor or no doctor."
   He appeared very determined. Justin quickly made up his mind. Mr. Watson had gone to the bathroom to get rid of some of the mud on his hands and face.
   "Dad," said Justin earnestly, "would you let me make him an offer on that machine of his?"
   "What? Buy a broken motorcycle?"
   "I can easily fix it. It is a great make, and in good condition. I can repair it. I've wanted a motorcycle for some time, and here's a chance to get a good one cheap."
   "You don't need to do that," replied Mr. Stone. "You have money enough to buy a new one if you want it. I never knew you cared for them."
   "I didn't, until lately. I'd rather buy this one and fix it up, than get a new one. Besides, I have an idea for a new kind of transmission, and maybe I can try it out on this machine."
   "Oh, well, if you want it for experimental purposes, I suppose it will be as good as any. Go ahead, get it if you want, but don't give him too much for it."
   "No problem, Dad. I bet I can get it for cheap."
   Mr. Watson returned to the living-room, where he had first been carried. "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me," he said. "I might have been there for hours. Jeepers creepers! I have had a very narrow escape. From now on, when I see anyone on a motorcycle, I don't think I can even look. The memory will be too painful," and he touched the bandage that covered a cut on his head.
   "Mr. Watson," said Justin quickly, "will you sell me that motorcycle?"
   "Zoinks! Sell you that mass of junk?"
   "It isn't all junk," went on the young inventor. "I can easily fix it; though, of course," he added carefully, "it will cost something. How much would you want for it?"
   "Well," replied Mr. Watson, "I paid over $16,000 for it last week. I have ridden a hundred miles on it. That is at the rate of 160 dollars a mile...pretty expensive riding. As an insurance man, I can tell you that the salvage value alone would probably be $2,000. Even that price would make me feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
   "I'll give you $2,000," said Justin quickly, and Mr. Watson exclaimed,
   "Bless my liver...that is, if I have one. Do you mean it? I could fix it up with the home office- It'll save us the trouble of selling it at the auction. You can keep it here and work on it while I'm putting through the paperwork."
   Justin nodded. "I'll get you the money right away," he said, starting for his room. He got the cash from a small safe he had arranged, which was fitted up with an ingenious burglar alarm, and was on his way downstairs when he heard his father call out, "Hey! What do you want? Get away from that shop! No one is allowed in there!"
   Looking from an upper window, Justin saw his father running toward a stranger, who was just stepping inside the shop where Mr. Stone was constructing his hydrogen motor. Justin jumped as he saw that the stranger was the same black-mustached man whom he had noticed in the post office, and, later, in the diner at Unionville.

Mrs. Martini's Easiest Biscotti

2 eggs
2/3 c. white sugar

1t. anise extract
1t. anise seed
1c. flour, sift

1/2 t. salt

DIRECTIONS:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease loaf pan.
2. Cream the eggs, extract, and sugar in mixer, medium speed, 4 minutes. 

3. Blend last 3 ingredients together, and add to egg mixture. Scrape dough into the pan. It will be thin and only fill 1/3 or 1/2 of the pan .

3. Bake about 20 minutes, or until it passes toothpick test. Remove from pan and slice into half-inch slices. Place sliced cookies on a baking sheet and bake for 5 minutes until bottom is browned, turn and bake for another 5 minutes until the other side is browned. Yield: 16 cookies.

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