“Yes, but the corn is too old, and the cabbage there is no time for; besides, we have it so seldom, because I have to cook it in the morning so that the terrible smell may be out of the house before Mr. Lennox comes home, he is so fastidious; though, I must say, the smell of cabbage is something any one not fastidious might object to.” “How long do you boil it?” “Oh, two hours, sometimes more.” “Do you mind my boiling it to-night?” Mrs. Lennox stared. She had some confidence in Molly, yet cabbage for dinner—and it was now after five—was something absurd. “But it won’t be done.” “Oh yes, I see the kettle is full and boils. I am quite sure you won’t believe me unless I show you; but I do assure you there is no unpleasant odor about, cabbage boiled as the English boil it, and in Europe it is considered the most wholesome of vegetables.” Mrs. Lennox listened politely. “I will get a cabbage, of course.” She left the kitchen for the purpose, and Molly smiled. She knew Mrs. Lennox was thinking what others less polite had said to her, “but _we_ like our cabbage very well done,” as if Molly must prefer it half raw. Molly had cut from the bones of roast and boiled mutton quite a large dish of meat, and the onions being tender she poured off the water from them, put to them a table-spoonful of butter and one of flour, with salt and pepper. As she was stirring them about, Mrs. Lennox brought in the cabbage, and cutting away leaves and part of core as Molly directed, laid it in water, and half filled a good-sized pot with boiling water and set it on the range. “For your six-o’clock dinner it must be well drained and go into that water at half past five.” “I obey unquestioningly, but I confess to strong doubts as to whether we mean the same thing by boiled cabbage”—laughing. “I know we don’t,” said Molly maliciously. “Will you look at this? I am going to pour in a half pint of the broth, which I find you did flavor with vegetables.” “Yes, I’m not so ungrateful as to neglect your instructions, after the success of our Saturday night’s dinner.” (It should be mentioned that on Sunday Mrs. Lennox had come to tell Molly how good it was, and how much enjoyed.) “There was some left, very little, and a little kidney from yesterday’s breakfast; the children did not take any of that. This morning I warmed both together with a very little of that broth, and they made another good breakfast, and I felt that I had achieved something.” “That was a splendid idea; so few people think what two or three odds and ends put together will do, though each may be so little as to be almost worthless alone. Real economical management lies in this _dovetailing_ one thing with another. This is what English and Americans know so little, and the French so well.” “I see that sauce is now like onion sauce, but less white.”