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A
BACHELOR'S
CUPBOARD
Stocking
the
Cupboard
buy
a
few
feet
of
tubing
and
a
tiny
gas
stove.
One
bachelor
who
earned
a
scanty
$15
a
week
made
for
himself
a
really
attractive
cupboard
from
a
tall
shoe
box,
perhaps
four
feet
in
height
and
half
as
wide
and
deep.
It
was
stained,
a
row
of
brass
headed
nails
driven
around
the
edge,
some
shelves
nicely
fitted
in,
a
few
hooks
added
and
a
denim
curtain,
and
in
it
was
his
whole
outfit
nicely
concealed
from
inquisitive
eyes.
And
he
had
some
feasts too,
if
they
were
cooked
in
a
ten-penny
frying
pan
on
his
little
gas
stove.
That
he
made
his
coffee
in
a
woman's
afternoon
tea
kettle
with
an
alcohol
lamp
was
his affair;
and
it
was
nectar.
His
tastes
were
simple,
at
the
same
time
he
had
a
va-
riety.
In
the
morning,
a
cup
or
two
of
delicious
coffee
with
condensed
cream,
one
or
two
English
muffins
nicely
toasted
and
buttered,
a
couple
of
eggs,
fried,
boiled,
or
scrambled,
as
he
elected,
or
perhaps
poached
on
a
bit
of
toast,
and
a
bit
of
fruit,
made
a
splendid
breakfast
for
a
chap
leading
a
sedentary
life.
The
down-town
luncheon
and
dinner
were
more
elaborate,
and
if
he
wished
a
bite
in
the
evening
when
a
friend
dropped
in,
or
he
came
in late
from
his
weekly
night
at
the
theatre,
there
were
all
sorts
of
appetizing
things
to
be
concocted
in
the
tiny
frying
pan,
in
which
a basin
was
set
and
surrounded
with
w^ater
in
lieu
of
a
chafing
dish.
Finally
he
bought
a
double
boiler,
thus
escap-
ing
scalded
fingers
from
too
close
contact
with
steam.
What
did
he
eat?
The
usual
thing
culled
from
a
cookery
book
dedicated
to
the
chafing
dish
—
and
some
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