It may be thought Molly was taking great trouble for Mrs. Gibbs. She knew that, and had she had it in her power to give money enough to be of substantial service to a destitute family, would not have done it. In this case, as with her husband’s income, she looked on her time as money, since by it she could make a little money go far. A dollar given to Mrs. Gibbs would have done little—bought bread for a week, perhaps, and a meal or two besides; the liver sent round to her cold would have been eaten so, and been miserable and insufficient for a dinner; the neck of lamb the same; but by the time, not an hour after all, she had double the value of what she could give, and the bread she would make from the flour would last three times as long as baker’s bread. In addition to this she went to the house where she bought her cream and asked what they did with their skimmed milk, and was told they made it into pot-cheese when they had much, but half the time they gave it away; she then obtained a promise that they would give Mrs. Gibbs two quarts a day if she sent for it. Being sure of milk, Molly felt that the best thing she could do now was to buy ten pounds of corn meal and send it to them for mush. This exhausted the dollar, and beyond making the bread and sending an occasional meal, to be concocted out of something that would not much enlarge her own expenses, she knew that she could do nothing, but did not despair of interesting others. Molly did not want to let her little lecture on croquettes grow cold in Marta’s mind, and therefore meant to have them again very soon. To that end she made a tour of the butcher-shops in Greenfield, of which there were several, in order to find, if she could, a knuckle of veal. This would kill two or three birds with one stone. Veal is not plentiful in September, yet is sometimes in market, and for the knuckle she knew she would have to pay very little, for in this country it is looked upon as only good for stock, while in Europe it is very choice. She was fortunate enough to get one; it was quite large, that is, the meat was not cut too far down, and because of this extra size she paid twenty cents for it instead of the usual fifteen cents. She also bought a piece of salt pork (very sweet, which she could tell by the pinkish fat) for twenty cents, and four lamb’s kidneys for breakfast for five cents. So surprised was the Greenfield butcher at her wanting them that at first he had seemed to think they were hardly worth a price; evidently he did not know that they were quite a dainty in the fashionable markets of New York, and as Harry would not eat beef kidney, but was very fond of others, she made up her mind to have them often.