“‘How does she do it?’ he asked; and then I had to tell him that you put your time and thought to the little money and doubled its value.” “Oh, Harry, how could you exaggerate so?” But Molly’s head was turned away and her eyes running over with happy tears. How well was she repaid for the work she had taken such pleasure in! Every tone of her husband’s voice revealed his pride in her, and his appreciation, veiled though it was by his gay, bantering manners, and she was grateful for the training that had made it all so easy to her. CHAPTER XXXI. A SURPRISE—A BOILED DINNER—DRESDEN PATTIES—OYSTERS AND BROWN BUTTER—“OLD ENGLISH” FRITTERS. WHEN Molly returned from her walk to the dépôt with Harry, she found on the back stoop a barrel and a packing-case that had come by express. The barrel she quickly saw contained apples; the packing-case was as yet a mystery, but it did not long remain so. Molly was not frightened at a hammer, and between her and Marta the top was soon wrenched off; and then she saw it was full of treasures. A dozen pots of raspberry jam, the same of currant jelly, English pickled walnuts and French canned peas and mushrooms, and boned chicken enough to last her the winter, a jar of Canton ginger and one of French plums, met Molly’s wondering eyes. What luxuries for a young housekeeper! Of course they could come only from Harry’s parents. Had they sent her a present for herself she would have resented it, considering how they had looked down on her, but this gift she could take pleasure in, for it was as much for Harry as for her, and only such things as would be very pleasant and useful, but were not necessaries. Her housewifely mind was already reveling in the thought of a well stocked store-room. She had found a letter from Mrs. Welles, at the post-office, which she had waited to read till she could do so at home and enjoy it, for her friend was a clever and voluminous correspondent. “Next Monday, dear Molly, if convenient, I shall leave New York for Greenfield. Mr. Welles says you are doing a rash thing to invite me, that I am primed and double-loaded and warranted to go off at any moment, for he has heard me the last month saying of every new thing (‘thing’ always being ‘dish’ with me), ‘Molly and I will do that together when I get there.’ If you can, imagine how I ache to get away from this hotel and into a house of my own, with a kitchen and a range. Never, never again will I consent to be a homeless hotel waif. However, in two weeks our house will be our own again,” etc., etc. Molly smiled over her friend’s letter, she knew her so well. How pleasant it would be to have her in her own house! Charlotte Welles was an English woman five years older than Molly, who had known her long before her marriage to the rich banker, Mr. Welles.