CHAPTER IX.
VEAL CUTLETS, BREADED.

When Molly reached home it was nearly six. Marta had followed directions fairly well, but Molly had taken the precaution to do everything she could before leaving home. She had herself cut half the veal cutlets into neat pieces, the size of a large oyster, leaving the rest for her pie, pounded each, squeezed on it a few drops of lemon juice, and piled one upon the other, and told Marta to leave them so an hour or two, then bread them exactly as she had done the lamb chops. She had also cut some thin slices of breakfast bacon, taken off the rind and dark inner skin very thinly; and now, having let the frying-pan get quite hot, she put the bacon in it. As soon as it looked clear she turned it; it curled up, and when it had been in the pan about three minutes she took it out and laid in the cutlets; the half a dozen pieces left room to turn them about comfortably.

“You see, Marta, I don’t drop these into deep fat, because veal is a meat that requires long cooking, and is one of the few things I think better fried, or rather ‘sauté,’ in this way, with only enough fat to cook them, but it is much more trouble to do than the frying in boiling fat.”

The cutlets took nearly ten minutes to fry a nice brown on one side, because, although the pan was kept at a good heat, she had to guard against burning. Then each piece was turned, and, when quite brown (it took nearly ten minutes more to get so), taken up and put on the dish, and the bacon round it. Molly took the pan to the table, poured off the fat, which was dark, and put in the pan a dessert-spoonful of butter and a scant one of flour, set them on the stove and let them melt and brown a little; then she drew the pan aside, and poured a small cup of the hot soup they were going to have for dinner into it, and stirred till smooth, mashing all the brown clinging gravy with the back of her spoon. She explained to Marta that, if the soup had not been at hand, water and pepper and salt would have been used; or, if there was oyster liquor in the house, she should have used that and water in equal parts.

“Now take in the soup, Marta,—and while that is on the table, let this gravy boil a few seconds, then pour it through the strainer into the dish with the cutlets; don’t let it boil longer, or it will get too thick.”

After dinner, Harry told Molly that one of the gentlemen on the cars, a friend of the Winfields’, had spoken to him about joining a dramatic reading-club, of which he was president, and said his wife was coming to invite Molly. “But I don’t think we can afford it, dear.”

“Would you like it?” asked Molly quickly.

“Oh, I don’t know! Yes, I think it might brighten the winter a bit.”

“Well, we will see after my accounts are audited. First, I want to ask you how you consider you have fared this week?”

“Admirably,—so well that I’m afraid of the accounts.”

“You need not be. Now I want you to listen while I read over the bills of fare for the week.”

Harry nodded in amused good humor, and smoked on comfortably.

“On Monday we had chicken salad, etc., for lunch. Dinner—Roast shoulder of lamb, potatoes, cabbage, macaroni, tomato salad, and peaches and cream.

“Tuesday. Breakfast—Breaded chops, baked potatoes, corn muffins.”

Harry nodded assent to each item as Molly turned her bright eyes on him to make sure he was giving attention.

“Tuesday. Dinner—Oysters, steak, ragout of lamb, stuffed potatoes, Lima beans, cheese canapées, and lemon pie.

“Wednesday. Breakfast—Hashed lamb, poached eggs, and soufflé bread. Dinner—Tomato cream soup, roast breast of lamb, chicken croquettes, stewed onions and potatoes, peach pudding.

“Thursday. Breakfast—Lamb chops broiled, eggs, tomato salad, stewed potatoes, muffins. Dinner—Fried smelts, beef à la mode, cones of carrots and turnips, mashed potatoes, lettuce salad, cheese fritters, amber pudding.

“Friday. Breakfast—Brown hash, poached eggs, corn bread, baked potatoes. Dinner—Bisque of clams, beef au gratin, chicken rissoles, cauliflower, potatoes, tomato salad, custard pie.

“Saturday. Breakfast—Scalloped clams, cauliflower, omelet, pop-overs, stewed potatoes. Dinner—Clear soup, veal cutlets, mashed potatoes, cabbage, macaroni, apple pudding.

“And to-morrow’s breakfast and dinner, though not eaten, is paid for, so I add that.

“Sunday. Breakfast—Broiled bacon, poached eggs, muffins. Dinner—Clear soup, chicken pie, mashed potatoes, creamed onions, tomato salad, peach compote, and custard.”

Molly concluded her list with rather a triumphant air, as one who knows she has achieved what she set out to do.

“Yes, Molly, we have had all those good breakfasts and dinners, and I’m afraid to think of the work you have had to cook all that. Let me look at your poor little hands.”

She held them towards him. They were white and soft as ever.

“Nevertheless,” he said, pressing them between his own, “I feel such a selfish brute to let you do it.”

“Nonsense! I like it. Why, didn’t I always go to Mrs. Welles’ house after each cooking-lesson, and repeat the whole lesson, when I hadn’t the satisfaction of seeing you share the good things I made, because we were boarding? And didn’t she and I repeat every failure until we got it right? Those were the days when I had backaches and headaches, because I was so anxious to succeed and failed so often; but now it is all at my fingers’ ends, and no more trouble than the simplest cooking—far less, indeed; it takes a little more time and makes more washing-up for Marta; and if we had a large family and I had other duties, I could not give so much time; nor would it be right to overwork one girl to cater to our tastes; but in a tiny house like this, with two or even four people, there’s no question of overwork for either mistress or maid.”

“But even your time, dear, oughtn’t to be sacrificed to give me good dinners.”

“No, nor will it be; but what is my time good for, except to make your income go as far as it will? I get all the time to read I want; I am not fond of plain sewing; and as clothes ready made can now be bought so good and cheap, I don’t mean to do more than keep the buttons sewed on,”—here she smiled as she thought of the favorite grievance,—“the stockings well darned, and everything mended; so; you’ll never have the satisfaction of seeing me stitch long white seams, nor wear a shirt made by me.”

“Thank heaven!” ejaculated Harry.

“No, nowadays that I consider real waste of time. And then I’ve no gift for fancy work, pretty as the modern version of it is, so I’d like to know what I should do with the whole day if I didn’t do something in the kitchen? I expect, when Marta is trained, never to spend more than an hour and a half each day there, and an hour besides for the other little household duties; that leaves a margin for visiting, reading, and the sewing I may have.”

“Very well, Molly dear; that programme sounds very easy, but whether it works in practice I don’t know.”

“Everything depends on Marta,—if she shows intelligence and cares to learn, things will go as I have planned after the first month; but supposing she actually never proves capable of doing the cooking alone, I shall simply make up my mind to spend the hour between five and six every day in the kitchen. I shan’t like to do it, because it ought not to be necessary, but one has to accept some shortcoming with any servant, and I would sooner this than some others; but to make it worth while to keep her under those circumstances, she must be very good in other things. There! I’m talking instead of attending to business,” said Molly; “here is an account of our expenditure.”

Molly had added to the supplies she had ordered for the month, which, it will be remembered, amounted to $9.86, the following articles:

which brought the amount to $11.22; one fourth of which, $2.80, added to $7.19, made the week’s expenditure $9.99.

“Now, although that amount has been spent this week, you must remember that of several of the articles bought, a little is left, and I have not to begin this week without a scrap in the house as I had the last,” explained Molly. “We need ice only a week or two longer, but when that need ceases we shall require more fuel; but I think a dollar a week all the year round will average ice and fuel, so I shall allow that. We shall use $2 a week for a few weeks, but barely 50 cents the rest of the year.”

Molly laid the accounts before her husband as she finished, and he gravely looked them over.

“And if, this month, I come out even five cents ahead, we may count ourselves safe, for buying in the very small quantities I am now doing is an extravagant way. But I wanted to make sure my ‘paper housekeeping’ would work in practice.”

There was rather an anxious look in Harry’s eyes as he read over the accounts. He was afraid Molly had sadly miscalculated, and he hated to prove her at fault, although he loved to poke fun at her.

“What’s the matter?” asked his wife, starting up and looking over his shoulder.

“Only, dear, if you remember, we had chicken in one form or other several times this week, but there is only one chicken counted, and that is to-day. Also lamb chops we have had several times.” He glanced up at her deprecatingly, for he felt such criticism ungracious, yet necessary; but Molly was quite serene.

“The box of chicken in Monday’s bill was all I’ve used; the chops also were from Monday. There’s one thing, though, I will call your attention to, and that is, that the most expensive meal we have had was the steak, yet people who use steak every day are supposed to live plainly and economically.”

“Then we come out wonderfully, I acknowledge.”

“This week, of course, Marta has simply seen how I want things done; next week I want her to actually do the cooking from recipes. Do you think you can stand last week’s dinners all over again?”

“Of course, my dear; why not?”

“That’s well, because if I teach her new things before she has learnt these thoroughly, she will get confused. I want to feel that there are a few things I can absolutely trust her to do. Then I can go on to fresh fields, so you may have things that are difficult to cook rather oftener than I like, till Marta is capable.”

“I shall not object to aid in Marta’s education so far,” said Harry.

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