“You are fond of cooking—that’s different! I hate it, but then that’s because I have it to do, I suppose, for, though I sympathized with you in advance in case you are left without, I never have a servant; and as I have four children, and make all their clothes and my own, you may suppose I have no time to spend over the fire. We are obliged to live very plainly, and if I can manage to get the food on the table in an eatable form, that’s all I try for. I tell you this now because, if, as I hope, we should become more than formal acquaintances, you will know what to expect at my house.” There was a pained look in the weary face, as if the saying had not been pleasant, and Molly’s heart ached at the sad picture of toil her words conjured up. And yet, after she had left, Molly remembered the dress of cheap material, but trimmed to excess, and thought of the weary hours it had taken to make, and wondered why she did it. Molly, when again alone, hesitated what to do. She knew of several bits of sewing she had to do for the house, but she was a little tired; and besides, after a week or two Marta would not need her so much in the kitchen—or, at least, she hoped not; meanwhile, the new “Century” was on the table, and she took it up to read till it became necessary for her to go and direct Marta. Molly had had a hint or two from her two visitors that they considered she would be making rather a slave of herself, but she had no such intention; she did not think it harder work to be in the kitchen than at the sewing-machine. At half past five she went to see if the table was neatly laid, and made a few changes, calling Marta’s attention to them; then went into the kitchen, and found the parsley and onion not nearly fine enough; these she chopped over, and by that time the potatoes and Lima beans were done. “Pour the water off the beans, Marta, then dress them just as you did the cabbage last night; stir them well around, and move them to a part of the range where they will just simmer. When you have done it, you can put the oysters on the table, six on each plate, the points to the centre, with a quarter of a lemon in the middle of each.” While she was speaking, Molly had put a little milk on to boil, and cut the tops from the potatoes, and holding them in a cloth, scooped out the inside with a spoon, into a bowl which she had made hot, without breaking the skin; when the potato was all out, she added to it a table-spoonful of butter and the parsley and onion, moistening the whole with hot milk, and then with a fork she beat it rapidly back and forth till very white and light; then she seasoned with salt and pepper to taste, and filled the skins, which she had put to keep hot again, and set them in the oven. The milk being boiling and the process quick, they had not had time to cool much. “Now, Marta, heat the gridiron and put your dishes to get hot; then put the steak on, open all the drafts that the smoke may go up.”