“Molly, this omelette is perfect; you have put forth your strength, indeed; but, my dear little girl, I am not going to have you spend all your time in the kitchen.”
“I don’t mean to, but I can give a couple of hours each day, and it will do me good.”
“But this luncheon is quite elaborate. Oh, I’ve heard of chicken salad and its intricacy, before now.”
Molly smiled; she had known it too. “I will take some of it if you please.”
“Ah, Molly, I believe it’s worth while to give up boarding and to live on cold meat, to have such coffee as this, and such biscuit!”
“I think it is, although I don’t intend to live on cold meat; I don’t like it.”
“But I suppose we must do a good deal of that, or eat quantities of hash, for we can’t afford to throw our cold meat away.”
“Ah, Harry, what would be the good of my devotion to cooking-schools if I couldn’t do better than that?”
“If you learned to make chicken salad there, I swear by them forever.”
“You’ll forswear your ridicule, I hope.”