An hour later the rolls had risen and been pushed down three times, and Molly, after working them all over again, took a little piece of butter on her hand, broke off bits of the dough as big as an English walnut, and rolled them between her buttered palms, and then dropped each on to a greased tin two inches apart. They were set to rise till they would be like small balloons—each quite double the size it was when first made. They would perhaps take three quarters of an hour to rise, but Molly cautioned Marta that she could not go by time in bread-making, for that differed so constantly; in summer it would be less, and in winter more; the degree of heat in the kitchen would make the greatest difference; also, some kinds of flour rose more quickly than others. It must not be supposed Molly had forgotten Mrs. Gibbs; she had her and her family in mind when she ordered the liver. The neck end of her lamb this week she was going to make into a nourishing Scotch broth, and out of the dollar, of which she had spent only fifteen cents as yet, she bought ten pounds of rye flour and five of white. This would provide bread for a month, and as the poor woman was yet so weak, Molly meant to have it made at her own house for the present. When the rolls were light enough to bake, they were brushed over with white of egg. The chicken pie on Saturday, it will be remembered, had only taken part of the white left from the forcemeat balls; the rest was beaten with a tea-spoonful of water and set in the ice-box for just such an occasion as this, and was now used to brush over the rolls. While the rolls baked, Molly prepared the liver for the dinner, and told Marta to make the Scotch hotch-potch for the Gibbs family. “Cut the meat up in pieces; put it in a saucepan with two onions, half a small cup of Scotch barley, a carrot and a turnip, a quart and pint of water, and a tea-spoonful and a half of salt; in an hour shred up a quarter of a cabbage and add it. Let it all simmer for two hours and a half, or until the barley is very soft.” Molly, while Marta was doing this, washed and dried the liver, cut about a dozen strips of fat pork as thick as her little finger, and with a narrow knife made many incisions through the liver and then inserted the pork. When all was done she floured it, sprinkled a little salt over it and it was ready for the oven. When the liver was cooked—it took just half an hour in a hot oven—it was taken up, put on a hot dish, and a half cup of boiling water poured into it; round the pan was a great deal of thick glaze; this was all rubbed off and dissolved in the gravy; a tea-spoonful of Worcestershire sauce was added and a pinch of salt, and then the gravy was poured over the liver.