"In the first place," said Molly, with a calmness born of inexperience, "we'll tell her to go. I have heard mamma say, often and often, that it's easier to do the work yourself than to have a girl around that's restless and wanting to be off all the time."
There was something so impressive in Molly's manner, as she delivered herself of this sentiment, that Polly gazed at her with a new respect. She had never dreamed that her friend knew so much about housekeeping.
"And so," Molly went on, "we'll just get rid of her and do the work ourselves. I've always been dying to try it, and this is a splendid chance. We won't do much sweeping and dusting, for it will only be for a day or two—How long was she going to be gone, Polly?"
"A week," answered Polly briefly.
"A whole week!" Molly's face fell. Then she resumed, "Well, we shall get on, in some way or other."
"We needn't do much but get the meals and wash the dishes," said
Polly, with renewed courage.
"We shouldn't have time, if we wanted to," returned Molly. "Now,
Polly, the question is: how much do you know about cooking?"
"Not very much," Polly confessed. "I can boil eggs and make toast, and I have made coffee, once or twice, just for fun."
"That's good," said Molly enthusiastically; "you're a treasure, Polly. I can do codfish and milk, and make molasses candy, and fry griddle-cakes. We shan't have such a bad time, after all."
"We have ever so many cook-books," suggested Polly. "Can't we do something with them?"