The pork hocks had been put on early for the mock brawn, and taken out and boned. The stock was now made, and Molly seasoned and prepared it in accordance with her plan. The pieces of pork, the seasoning, and the best of the beef, cut into pieces about two inches square, and of which there was about twice as much as there was pork, were put into the liquor, heated once together, and then poured into a pan. It looked rather like head cheese. When cold, it turned out in a slab. Part was sent to Mrs. Lennox with an explanation of what it was; part to Mrs. Gibbs, with the rest of the meat made into the usual hash for her; and the remainder was kept for home purposes, for both Mrs. Welles and Marta found it very relishing. CHAPTER XLI. THE BABY—CONCLUSION. IT is July, nearly a year after Mr. and Mrs. Bishop began the experiment of keeping house in Mrs. Winfield’s cottage, which has become very dear to them both, although in three months they are to leave it and go into one of their own. So charmed had Mr. Bishop, senior, become with Harry’s home that he had been a frequent visitor during the summer, and sometimes Mrs. Bishop, too, came; but society engagements took her time, and when May came, she fled with her daughters to a fashionable watering-place, and Mr. Bishop, instead of staying as usual in his city house, came out to stay with his son, and went in with him to business daily. The result was that Harry was reinstated in his father’s favor, and it seemed as if the elder gentleman was going to make amends for his past mistake; for he told Harry he would now do what he always had meant to do until he found he was bent on making a fool of himself. “Not that your luck is anything to your credit,” he persisted; “it’s a mere fluke your getting such a wife as Molly; but you’ll come into the firm as junior at Christmas.” This was what Harry had been brought up to expect, and the prospect that he had to give up on marrying Molly. He was grateful to his father, for after all, pleasant as life was for him even with his narrow income, it was likely to be a great deal pleasanter when he would not have to count every cent so closely. “Yes, yes, you are one who has the luck to ‘eat his cake and have it too,’” said the old gentleman irritably; “but I’m doing it just as much for Molly and the baby as for you.” Yes, there was a baby,—a baby just thirty-six hours old when Mr. Bishop announced his intention to the young father; and Harry carried back to Molly that evening a very glad heart. The baby was a girl, and Molly’s only shadow was that Harry did not seem to admire it so much as she thought it deserved. “You mean to say you don’t think it’s pretty, Harry?” she had asked when she exhibited the little red, squirming thing in its nest of flannel.