It was after four o’clock, and she laid the table just as she wanted it, went up-stairs and put on one of her prettiest dresses, and then returned to the parlor. Mrs. Bishop was just rousing as she passed her door, but did not descend for some few minutes, which Molly took to glance over the paper. All the time she was talking with his mother and father, Molly pictured Harry’s surprise at finding them, and knew it would also be a pleasure. She did not know what to augur from this visit, whether it was simply curiosity, or meant any return of the old parental tenderness for him; Harry would know, for he knew their ways better than she did. At last she heard his steps on the plank walk; she flew to the door. “What’s up, little woman? you look like an exclamation point in person.” The next moment he caught sight of his visitors. “Mother! father! why, this is a good surprise.” Molly slipped out of the room while Harry was hearing all about their arrival, whipped on her apron and made the Hollandaise sauce. She put into a little iron saucepan a large table-spoonful of butter, a dessert-spoonful of flour, and let them cook one minute; then she poured to them two thirds of half a pint of boiling water, stirred till smooth, then added, gradually, the yolks of three beaten eggs; when she put the eggs in she stood the saucepan in another of boiling water, and stirred it well; after the eggs had thickened she put two tea-spoonfuls of lemon juice, salt, and as much cayenne as would go on the end of a penknife, and it was done. Marta had taken up the fish, and Molly directed the sauce to be poured entirely over it, herself seeing that there was not a drop of water from the fish in the dish. A sprig or two of parsley was laid at each end of the dish, and lemon in slices round it; then casting her eye round to see that Marta had everything ready but the meat, she told her to bring the fish in when she should hear Mr. Bishop come down. The dinner was very nice, although, as Molly was glad to think, simpler than they often had when alone, and it was eaten without comment until the ice came on, when Mrs. Bishop expressed surprise at their getting such things in the country. “Oh, we can, I believe, get excellent ice-creams here, but this is home-made.” “Indeed!” After dinner Mr. Bishop declared they must catch the eight o’clock train. Harry urged them in vain to stay, and then it was decided that Molly and Harry would go to the depot with them. As they parted Mrs. Bishop said: “Harry, you and Molly must come home to spend Christmas, and had better spend a week with us.” Harry promised to do so if they could. “Why, of course you can;—why not?” “Oh,” laughed Harry, “we are family people now, with the responsibility of a house on our shoulders.” “A house! a match-box, you mean.”