“What can _I_ do?” asked Mrs. Lennox. “You can chop that suet very fine, taking away all skin and veins.” Molly cut the vegetables into slices a quarter of an inch thick, made piles of half a dozen slices of carrot, then cut across them at even distances; it was more quickly done than the usual hit or miss way, and they looked far better; the turnip she did the same, and then she stirred the meat round, which was sending a savory odor through the house. The peeled onion she dropped into water, and then, with hands still in the water, cut it across at equal distances all the way through, then across again. “What are you doing that in water for?” “It prevents the odor clinging so much to the hands, and also mitigates its power to make me weep.” As she spoke she took all the vegetables to the saucepan, dropped them in and stirred them quickly round, then poured two kitchen cups of boiling water on the whole, and seasoned it with a tea-spoonful of salt and a quarter one of pepper. “I want to watch that come to the boil, and then put it where it will just simmer.” She had covered the saucepan close, and then turned to Mrs. Lennox. The suet in her unaccustomed hands was still far from being chopped fine, and the warmth of the kitchen had made it clog together. Molly said, “If suet gets soft while being chopped, shake a little flour into it, also flour the chopping-knife. When chopping it in winter for mincemeat, I let it get well frozen.” She chopped vigorously as she spoke, and it was soon so fine as to look like tapioca. She then turned to the saucepan, which had reached the boiling-point, and drew it aside, carefully changing the position until it just simmered. She then pointed out to Mrs. Lennox the little sizzling round the edge of the saucepan, barely perceptible, and told her that it should cook no faster. “But that doesn’t appear to be cooking at all.” “Oh, yes! and meat stewed so will always be tender. If you like we can go to the sewing now, as it is too soon to make the crust.” She went upstairs and sewed till five o’clock, chatting the while, Mrs. Lennox expatiating on the privations of the whole family; and Molly could well understand how it came about, with a poor, weary mother sewing strenuously to make the children look well, and understanding so little of domestic economy that she did not see that, by a different mode of living, she would save enough in the month either to buy new clothes or to lessen her own incessant labor by getting help. Nor could Molly at this time make any suggestion.