The fire was clear and not too high, and she watched while Marta broiled it, directing her to turn the steak frequently. “Keep the gridiron tilted from you, so that the grease runs to the back of the stove, and don’t be frightened at its flaring; better it should flare than smoke; it is the smoke, not the flame, that blackens the steak.” When it had broiled eight minutes it was to be laid on a hot dish, with a lump of butter on it, and liberally seasoned with pepper and salt. But as Molly heard Harry come in, she left the butter and seasoning ready and went to him, trusting Marta to bring the dinner to table, telling her, as she left the kitchen, to put the cheese canapées in the oven, on the upper shelf. They would be brown by the time they had finished the meat. CHAPTER VII. MOLLY AND MRS. LENNOX—ECONOMICAL BUYING MAKES GOOD LIVING. A WEEK passed, and Molly found her ten dollars left a narrow margin, as will be seen from the account she triumphantly showed to Harry, and the week’s bills of fare, which she wrote out neatly, appending every recipe, and which, for the benefit of those who may wish to do likewise, I will give in its place; but before that week was over, Molly was resolving other problems. She had seen Mrs. Lennox again, and Harry was delighted with Mr. Lennox, who traveled on the same train with him, and in answer to Molly’s remarks on the hard life his wife led, he maintained that his pity was for the husband. “I can picture to myself that household, Molly, and the scrambling meals that man gets. Why, he was astounded when I told him we lived just as well as I want to live, and what we had to live on. Yes, dear, I fear I did boast to the poor fellow of the charming little dinners you got up, and asked if he knew any one who could beat that? He said:— “‘Well, I wish Mrs. Bishop would teach my wife how to put some flavor into what we eat. Our means are narrow, but I do know that if Letty knew how to cook, we should all be better, and she herself. We can’t expect fancy dishes—our family is too large and our means too small for that—but even Irish stew may taste of something besides onions and hot water.’ “I should think it could; nothing I enjoy better than Irish stew. However, I didn’t crow any more over poor Lennox, but you needn’t give all your pity to Mrs. Lennox.” Already Molly had decided in her own mind that Mrs. Lennox was making a great mistake in the way she had chosen for doing her duty to her family, and that the weary days spent at the sewing-machine might be partly spent in the kitchen with advantage to her own health and her children’s. She longed to help her, but dared not take the liberty. But the day came when Mrs. Lennox herself gave the opening. They met in the street on Saturday, and Molly mentioned that she was on her way to the butcher’s.