"I'm afraid we shall be doomed to disappointment, but I hope we may be able to find some that is cheap," sighed Mrs. Thorne. "Nothing makes such a good company salad." "A little voice within me tells me we shall get it for almost nothing," said her sister comfortably; "put it down, Mary." This was the menu for the luncheon: Strawberries. Cream of beet soup. Salmon cutlets; creamed potatoes; peas; tea. Asparagus salad with French dressing. Café parfait. "But why is the main course fish instead of meat?" Dolly inquired anxiously, as she read it over. "Oh, at luncheon I often have a substantial fish course as a main one; salmon is just what we want, and in the spring I like it better than a meat, anyway. You will see that it is all right. Besides, it is cheap!" "I suspected as much. Canned, then, of course." "Yes, my dear, canned, and very good; wait and see!" This time the centrepiece was the fern dish as usual, but small white flowers were stuck in the earth all through the ferns, and the effect was beautifully fresh. For the meal, the strawberries were laid on small plates on paper doilies in a circle, with the hulls turned in; in the middle lay a little heap of powdered sugar. A finger-bowl stood above the plate, and this was left on all through the luncheon. In removing this course Dolly merely took off the berry plates, leaving the service plates beneath them on the table and putting the soup cups on these next; later on she substituted the hot, filled plates for both service plate and cup at once. The salmon was picked over, mixed with a stiff white sauce, seasoned, and then cooled for an hour. The paste which resulted was cut in strips, moulded into oval, chop-shaped pieces, and crumbed as usual; these were again dried, and last fried a golden brown in deep fat; then a paper frill was stuck into each one to represent a chop bone. They were laid on the hot plates and a spoonful of peas and one potato added. As Mary predicted, the guests were fully satisfied, and never missed meat. The asparagus materialized for the salad, to their delight. It was cooked, chilled, laid on lettuce, and a French dressing poured over just before it was passed. The mousse, or parfait, was made as before, but the flavoring of coffee was a cupful left from breakfast, boiled with the sugar in the place of the water usually cooked with it. "If that luncheon was not expensive, then I am indeed an ignoramus," said Dolly, when they began to figure out its cost. "It tasted expensive, Mary." "It was that horrid asparagus. Why did you let me buy it, Dolly? I am truly sorry I did, for like you, I suspect we have spent too much. Let us see.