"
"I'll tell you," suggested Molly suddenly, as if struck with a
brilliant idea; "let's not have much for lunch. Your father won't
be here, so we can eat up whatever was left over from breakfast,
and have all our time for the dinner."
"But 'tisn't time to get dinner now; it's only eleven o'clock,"
said Polly.
"Yes, it is time," returned Molly. "I want to try a lemon pudding
for dessert, if he likes them, and it takes ever so much time, I
know. We must feed him up well, so he won't look thin to your
mother when, she gets back."
"Let's see how the oven is," said Polly, pulling open the door and
peering in. "It feels nice and warm, so perhaps we'd better go to
work."
"Where are your cook-books?" demanded Molly.
"Here." And Polly brought out a number of books and pamphlets. "We
ought to find a rule in some of these."
Molly possessed herself of the largest.
"'Marion Holland'--no, 'Harland,'" she read. "Oh, I've heard of
her! I'll look in this, and you take another. Let's see, where's
the index? 'Soups--fish--poultry--meats--company.' Oh, where is
it? 'Eggs--cake.' That sounds like it. 'Servants--puddings.' At
last! 'Apple--cottage--cracker--lemon.' Here are two lemon
puddings, Polly.
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