“I’m your nearest neighbor on this side the street, but there’s poor Mrs. Lennox right opposite, poor thing! I’m glad she’s got some one to take Mrs. Winfield’s place to her. She was a real good neighbor, and when one’s life’s as hard as hers, a friendly neighbor is a good deal.” Molly did not ask why Mrs. Lennox was qualified by the adjective “poor” nor why her life was hard. She began to recognize in Mrs. Merit a type of good-hearted women given over-much to interesting themselves in other people’s affairs. Mrs. Merit rocked serenely on, however, and proceeded to question Molly on her knowledge of housekeeping and to give some strong hints on economy. “You see, my dear, young people start off with an idea of style, and it takes them some time to find out the best and cheapest way of doing things, and there’s receipts I’ve got that I’ve altered and changed so’s they don’t cost half, and taste, to my thinking, just as well, and no danger of dyspepsia, and I’d be glad to send you over my written book.” Again Molly thanked her, and promised to avail herself of the book. “Yes, and you’ll find your money goes a deal further; my receipts don’t call for eggs and butter as if they grew out on the bushes.” “Well, you see,” said Molly timidly, “we need so little of anything that even a recipe which calls for what seems many eggs or much butter can generally be divided by four for us, and the four eggs or half pound of butter become only one egg and two ounces of butter; so we can have the good things and still spend little.” “But then you have so little of it, and it wastes time to make things in small quantities.” “Yes, but my time is not valuable, and besides it would be no economy for me to make things too plain, for we might not eat them at all; and the same would happen if I made much at a time of anything,—it would not be eaten up. Mr. Bishop likes variety.” “Well, _I_ believe in husbands’ liking food that’s according to their means, and not in young women wearing their lives out cooking for them. Mr. Merit was always satisfied with a plain, wholesome dinner, and that I took care he had.” Mrs. Merit’s words were verging on the unpleasant, but her manner was so unconscious that Molly felt sure only kindness was meant; she was simply instructing the young and inexperienced wife. “Now there’s poor Mrs. Lennox, she’s got four children, and her husband is as poor as a church mouse, and as pernickety about his eating—nothing she can get is good enough for him; and the way she manages to make both ends meet, and to dress them children as nice as any, is a wonder to every one, though, poor thing, she is wearing herself out.” Shortly after, finding Molly was not curious about Mr. and Mrs. Lennox, Mrs. Merit protested that she was paying an unwarrantably long visit, rose and left, saying, as she did so, “You won’t be lonely long, you are not like strangers; being such friends of Mrs. Winfield, every one will make a point of calling very soon.”