Molly placed the dry end of the cloth over the lettuce leaves and patted them, resolving that a salad-basket must be an immediate purchase. She took the leaves, now free from water, and laid them over the salad-dish, reserving the whitest for the border; then she placed the chicken in the centre, mixing with it the pieces of olive Marta had broken in her first attempts, and smoothing it with a knife The mayonnaise would have been all the better if it could have stood in the ice-box half an hour; and, another time, she would have it made early on the day it was wanted; however, it was thick enough to mask the chicken, only less would have answered the purpose had it been ice cold. She spread it with a knife evenly, then laid the stoned olives around at intervals—and the salad was ready. The coffee being ground, she gave the salad to Marta to take to the ice-box for the twenty minutes that would elapse before lunch-time, while she broke three eggs and separated them, and when Marta returned gave her the whites to beat to a high froth. While she was doing that, Molly got the frying-pan, put a table-spoonful of butter in it, and set both to get hot; then she poured boiling water through the coffee-pot (in case it might not have been used lately), threw it out, and put two full table-spoonfuls of coffee (ground much finer than the grocer does it, being, in fact, about like coarse corn meal) into the fine strainer, replaced the coarse one over it, and then took a tin pint measure, filled it with boiling water, and poured half into the coffee-pot; the other half she set on the stove to keep at boiling-point, while the first dripped through; then she put half a pint of milk to boil, and, seeing the butter was melted, she drew back the frying-pan that it might not burn till the omelette was ready. Marta had not yet reached the point of snow with the whites of eggs, and Molly took them from her to finish herself. “Now, Marta, put that little fringed napkin on the dish, and with a fork take up those biscuits.” She watched her while she performed her task, dropping two or three on the floor, of course, but that did not ruffle Molly’s good temper, for she knew the girl could not have been accustomed to doing things daintily,—that if she followed her instinct, it would no doubt be to tumble them all out pell-mell together. “Now take those to the table, set them on the mat I showed you, and come back at once.” The eggs were now ready, and as the omelette was to be the very last thing cooked, she poured the rest of the water on the coffee, told Marta to get the waiter ready, and then pour the boiling milk into the pitcher and set it on it. “Now, Marta, take the chicken salad into the dining-room, and at the same time take the melon from the ice-box and bring it here as you come back.”