A tablespoonful of corn meal wet with six tablespoonfuls of milk, added one by one, gradually, so that the meal is quite free from lumps.  One pint of boiling water, and a little salt.  You must stir the smooth mixture of the meal and milk into the boiling water.  It will cool it a little, and you must stir it until it comes to a boil, then stand it back, and let it simmer fifteen minutes.

The doctor was caught by Patrick just leaving his house to go to a patient ten miles off.  He prescribed for Aunt Hetty, looked in upon grandmamma, and told me to keep up my courage, I was a capital little nurse, and he would rather have me to take care of him than anybody else he knew, if he were ill, which he never was.

He drove off in his old buggy, leaving three little maids watching him with admiring eyes.  We all loved Doctor Chester.  “Now, girls,” I said, “we must get our breakfast.  We cannot live on air.”

Marjorie brought the eggs and milk.  Veva cut the bread and picked the blackberries.  I put the pan on to heat for the omelette, and this is the way we made it: 

Three eggs, broken separately and beaten hard—­

    “In making an omelette,
      Children, you see,
    The longer you beat it,
      The lighter ’twill be,”

hummed Marjorie, add a teaspoonful of milk, and beat up with the eggs; beat until the very last moment when you pour into the pan, in which you have dropped a bit of butter, over the hot fire.  As soon as it sets, move the pan to a cooler part of the stove, and slip a knife under the edge to prevent its sticking to the pan; when it is almost firm in the middle, slant the pan a little, slip your knife all the way round the edge to get it free, then tip it over in such a way that it will fold as it falls on the plate.

You should serve an omelette on a hot plate, and it requires a little dexterity to learn how to take it out neatly.

Veva exclaimed, “Oh, Milly, you forgot the salt!”

“No,” I explained; “French cooks declare that salt should never be mixed with eggs when they are prepared for omelette.  It makes the omelette tough and leathery.  A little salt, however, may be sprinkled upon it just before it is turned out upon the dish.”

Here is another receipt, which Jeanie copied out of her mother’s book: 

“Six eggs beaten separately, a cup of milk, a teaspoonful of corn-starch mixed smoothly in a little of the milk, a tablespoonful of melted butter, a dash of pepper, and a sprinkle of salt.  Beat well together, the yolks of the eggs only being used in this mixture.  When thoroughly beaten add the foaming whites and set in a very quick oven.”

It will rise up as light as a golden puff ball, but it must not be used in a family who have a habit of coming late to breakfast, because, if allowed to stand, this particular omelette grows presently as flat as a flounder.

After breakfast came the task of washing the dishes.  Is there anything which girls detest as they do this everyday work?  Every day?  Three times a day, at least, it must be done in most houses, and somebody must do it.