"I'm sure I don't know," answered Polly. "It can't kill us, but it
may stiffen us up some. I wonder if we'd better try to eat it,
Molly." "I'm not going to have all my work wasted," said Molly
decidedly, as she opened the oven door and peeped in. "It's
browning just beautifully, and looks all right. We won't say or
think anything about it, and I don't believe it will hurt us any.
Even if it does, we have a doctor right in the house."
"Unless it kills him, first of all," added Polly gloomily. "But
I'm tired now, Molly; we'll have lunch while that is baking, and
then we can rest till time to get dinner. I never supposed it was
so much work to keep house."
"What are you going to have for dinner?" asked Molly, ignoring the
last remark.
"Beefsteak and potatoes and pudding," said Polly. "That's enough.
We don't want to begin better than we can keep up."
Their lunch was over, and the dishes piled up, to be washed later,
when they should feel more like it; the girls had made themselves
presentable again after their labors, and were sunning themselves
like two young turtles, on the front steps, when they saw Alan
coming towards the house.
"Now, Molly," Polly cautioned her; "remember we aren't going to
tell that we are housekeeping.
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