“One third of a quart of milk (not quite three gills), two table-spoonfuls of flour, two of sugar, a tea-spoonful of vanilla extract, a pinch of salt. Mix the flour with part of milk, set the rest to boil; when it boils, mix both together as you would corn starch; if by chance it is not smooth, strain it, return to fire, stirring well. Take it off when it boils, put to it the yolks of two eggs, and beat very well; then add the whites, _beaten till you can turn the dish over without their slipping_. The whites must be stirred in with greatest gentleness,—any quick stirring will cause them to liquefy and spoil your soufflé; when the whites are blended, bake in a buttered dish twenty minutes.” Molly prepared it and told Marta to put it in the oven when she put the soup on to get hot, that they might have about finished dinner when it was done; but it was better for them to wait for the soufflé than the soufflé for them, for waiting means spoiling it. Molly made some hard sauce, which she flavored with wine, and then left the dinner to Marta. When Harry came home his face showed he had something pleasant to say. “Well, dear,” he said as soon as he was ready for dinner, “you’ve done it, and no mistake.” “Done what?” She would have been alarmed if his face had not looked so very happy. “You’ve captured my father.” “Oh Harry, what do you mean?” “He came into my office to-day, and told me he had enjoyed himself out here very much, and he was good enough to add that his opinion of me had not changed in the least, that I had been as wrong-headed as possible, and that if I had chanced to pick up a pearl instead of a pebble, no thanks to my own wisdom. I couldn’t agree, and told him I knew all along you were a jewel, but he had the best of me, for he said, “‘Rubbish, sir! You didn’t know that she could boil an egg or sew a button on; no boy in love ever asks that! and you might have been a pretty miserable pair!’ “And it’s quite true, Molly. If you could not have mended your own clothes, and I knew it, I should have married you just the same; but I’m glad to have a fortune _in_ my wife, and so I told the dad.” “Well, is that all he said?” asked Molly, her cheeks flushed with pleasure, her eyes dancing. “Oh, dear, no, he didn’t begin that way. He began by asking me how I expected to meet my quarter’s bills. I told him there would be none. At first he could not believe me, and I really believe he had come to give me a check to get us out of the need he thought we were likely to be in; but when I told him all, and showed him your first month’s accounts—stop a minute” (Molly made a dart forward to her desk)—“I abstracted that first month’s figuring, my dear, and have it in my pocket, and it will remain there; that is my property, my trophy. Well, when I showed that, and told him that I, with my little income, lived just as well as he did, he was conquered.