She came flying back, in a moment, with a small package in her hand. "I wonder if this won't do just as well," she said. "It's marked elastic starch, instead of cornstarch, but it looks ever so much like the other, and it's all there is, anyway." Molly eyed it with little favor. "It isn't just the same," she said thoughtfully; "but if we can't get anything else, we may as well use it. Here goes, anyway." And she added a heaping spoonful. The pudding was mixed, poured into a baking dish and set into the oven. "There," said Molly, with an air of relief, "that's done, all but watching to see that it doesn't burn." "And clearing up the table," sighed Polly. "It doesn't seem as if we could have used so many dishes, just for one little pudding; does it, Molly?" "Never mind," said Molly consolingly; "when it's done, we shall feel paid for it all. I don't mind washing dishes. You put the sugar and stuff away, while I do them. I wish I felt sure about this other starch," she added, taking up the paper and glancing at it. Polly's back was turned, when she heard an exclamation of horror. Looking around, she saw Molly who, with the package still in her hand, had dropped into a chair. "What is it?" she asked anxiously. "See here!" And Molly pointed solemnly to the label, then burst into another fit of merriment, as she watched Polly's face grow blank while she road aloud,-- "'Elastic Starch: Prepared for Laundry Purposes, only.'" "Whatever do you suppose it will do to us?" asked Molly, struggling to regain her self-control, and then laughing harder than ever. "I'm sure I don't know," answered Polly. "It can't kill us, but it may stiffen us up some. I wonder if we'd better try to eat it, Molly." "I'm not going to have all my work wasted," said Molly decidedly, as she opened the oven door and peeped in. "It's browning just beautifully, and looks all right. We won't say or think anything about it, and I don't believe it will hurt us any. Even if it does, we have a doctor right in the house." "Unless it kills him, first of all," added Polly gloomily. "But I'm tired now, Molly; we'll have lunch while that is baking, and then we can rest till time to get dinner. I never supposed it was so much work to keep house." "What are you going to have for dinner?" asked Molly, ignoring the last remark. "Beefsteak and potatoes and pudding," said Polly. "That's enough. We don't want to begin better than we can keep up." Their lunch was over, and the dishes piled up, to be washed later, when they should feel more like it; the girls had made themselves presentable again after their labors, and were sunning themselves like two young turtles, on the front steps, when they saw Alan coming towards the house. "Now, Molly," Polly cautioned her; "remember we aren't going to tell that we are housekeeping."