“I will, indeed, if only for the sake of this salad; there’s a tang, a something about it, that outdoes my previous conception of the dish. Now, Molly, eliminate yourself from the cooking-schools, and tell me which was the ‘tiny bit of Molly.’”
“Ah, Molly was the ‘something’ in the salad—and also what made it a very easy instead of a difficult dish to prepare. You have eaten, before, salad made of boiled or roast chicken. I made this of canned chicken, which saves all trouble of preparing, and is besides of far better flavor, for the jelly and all the goodness is sealed up in the can, instead of escaping into the water. I don’t like boughten canned things, usually, but the chicken is a success.”
“The salad was, at any rate. Now I’m going to smoke; shall we survey our domain?”
“Yes, I’ll be out in one minute, when I have shown Marta how to clear away.”
Harry left the room and Marta answered the bell.
“Now, Marta, bring your tray, set it on that table and put these things on it.”
Molly, as she spoke, smoothed over the salt-cellars with a spoon, then put them away; also the napkins, while Marta removed the dishes, etc.
“Now, Marta, never take off the cloth to shake it, but do as you see me do now.”
Molly had taken a folded napkin, and brushed the crumbs lightly into the crumb-pan.
“At dinner do this after the meat is removed. Now take the cloth by this centre fold, lift it from the table, lay it back double, and then fold again in the old creases, till it is just as it left the laundress. At dinner you shall do it yourself under my direction.”