“FRIDAY. _Breakfast_—Brown hash, poached eggs, corn bread, baked potatoes. _Dinner_—Bisque of clams, beef _au gratin_, chicken rissoles, cauliflower, potatoes, tomato salad, custard pie. “SATURDAY. _Breakfast_—Scalloped clams, cauliflower, omelet, pop-overs, stewed potatoes. _Dinner_—Clear soup, veal cutlets, mashed potatoes, cabbage, macaroni, apple pudding. “And to-morrow’s breakfast and dinner, though not eaten, is paid for, so I add that. “SUNDAY. _Breakfast_—Broiled bacon, poached eggs, muffins. _Dinner_—Clear soup, chicken pie, mashed potatoes, creamed onions, tomato salad, peach compote, and custard.” Molly concluded her list with rather a triumphant air, as one who knows she has achieved what she set out to do. “Yes, Molly, we have had all those good breakfasts and dinners, and I’m afraid to think of the work you have had to cook all that. Let me look at your poor little hands.” She held them towards him. They were white and soft as ever. “Nevertheless,” he said, pressing them between his own, “I feel such a selfish brute to let you do it.” “Nonsense! I like it. Why, didn’t I always go to Mrs. Welles’ house after each cooking-lesson, and repeat the whole lesson, when I hadn’t the satisfaction of seeing you share the good things I made, because we were boarding? And didn’t she and I repeat every failure until we got it right? Those were the days when I had backaches and headaches, because I was so anxious to succeed and failed so often; but _now_ it is all at my fingers’ ends, and no more trouble than the simplest cooking—far less, indeed; it takes a little more time and makes more washing-up for Marta; and if we had a large family and I had other duties, I could not give so much time; nor would it be right to overwork one girl to cater to our tastes; but in a tiny house like this, with two or even four people, there’s no question of overwork for either mistress or maid.” “But even your time, dear, oughtn’t to be sacrificed to give me good dinners.” “No, nor will it be; but what is my time good for, except to make your income go as far as it will? I get all the time to read I want; I am not fond of plain sewing; and as clothes ready made can now be bought so good and cheap, I don’t mean to do more than keep the buttons sewed on,”—here she smiled as she thought of the favorite grievance,—“the stockings well darned, and everything mended; so; you’ll never have the satisfaction of seeing me stitch long white seams, nor wear a shirt made by me.” “Thank heaven!” ejaculated Harry. “No, nowadays _that_ I consider real waste of time. And then I’ve no gift for fancy work, pretty as the modern version of it is, so I’d like to know what I should do with the whole day if I didn’t do something in the kitchen? I expect, when Marta is trained, never to spend more than an hour and a half each day there, and an hour besides for the other little household duties; that leaves a margin for visiting, reading, and the sewing I may have.”