How few girls have such a chance! We send girls to a cooking-school to take twelve or twenty-four lessons, and we know that if they are of the right material (and if not we should hardly send them), they leave the school vastly improved, with quite different ideas from those who have been through no such training; and Marta had been at such a school daily for many months, yet, at the end of them, her accomplishments were not many. She could fry, stew, roast, and make soup to perfection. She could not be trusted to do anything that depended on _flavor_ or _taste_; she never seemed to learn that one clove may be pleasant, half a dozen detestable; that herbs should only lend a vague savoriness, never be so strong as to make one feel they were partaking of marjoram soup or parsley stew. But Molly knew her limitations and knew—take her all in all—she was not likely to better herself by changing. A girl of quicker wits might have been less faithful, or, if so bright as to learn all Molly could teach, she would naturally and rightly wish to take a place as professed cook, with her thirty or forty dollars a month wages, and no washing. So Marta remained, a very devoted servant; very exasperating sometimes, but at all times valuable. Mrs. Lennox has only one thing to say; she does not regret taking Maggie; she is no worse off in her pocket, and is better off in nerves and muscles; the tired, overworked look is no longer conspicuous. She is still overworked and overworried, but she has a strong pair of arms to call upon, and they are willing to do the appointed task which Mrs. Lennox always remembers she must otherwise have done herself. Maggie needed watching at every turn the first few months; she now knows the ways and does the work fairly well. She is no paragon, and if Mrs. Lennox had no children she would rather be without her, but when she gets out of patience she looks back and remembers how she had not even time “to think” before she came; when she did sit down her muscles ached and tingled so that even rest was a dull void, simply cessation from exertion. Mrs. Lennox now does the cooking and the sewing; Maggie does the work. She will never do more in the cooking way than boil potatoes, make mush and bread (the latter well, for she knows only one way and that is the way she does it), and burn or smoke a beefsteak. But Mrs. Lennox will soon have either to pay her more, or take another new arrival; that is inevitable. It must not be thought that all Molly’s neighbors were as fond of her as Mrs. Lennox. No one can live up to a higher ideal than the average (even when the ideal is only cooking), without hurting some one’s corns. Several ladies disapproved of her, thought she set a very bad example by making men expect too much of their wives, and those who lived very badly on double Harry’s income felt personally injured.