One morning, after two weeks of close economy, the bank on the kitchen mantel was emptied and the sisters received the reward of their savings. There were not only pennies, but dimes and even quarters; quite enough to ensure the financial success of the luncheons they had planned for.

"Ah, we are evidently safe, now," said Dolly as she poured the money out in her lap. "Here's richness! I seem to hear broilers cackling; or don't fowls cackle in the spring-time of their youth? Anyway, there is no doubt we can afford to have some of them for our parties."

"Indeed we cannot. Not broilers, my dear girl; they are not for the likes of us. But we shall have some other good things, at least. And isn't it fine to have the money ahead instead of having to catch up later on when we have forgotten all about the occasion?" moralized Mrs. Thorne complacently. "I don't mind economizing beforehand, but I just hate to, afterwards. Now for our menus. I think we will begin with a luncheon for four only. Next week we will go on to six, and possibly we will have eight, later; still, I am not sure about it, for six is all we can really manage to serve easily. Suppose we take turns writing out what we will have."

"I'll begin," Dolly said. "A simple luncheon for four, you said; I certainly ought to be able to manage that by this time. Let me see."

This is what she presently produced:

"That does very well indeed," said Mrs. Thorne as she took the paper and read over the menu. "My only criticism is on the chops; those cost a good deal, and especially in the spring, when the lamb is small."

"I meant to have old lamb," interrupted Dolly.

"Yes, but even so, I think chops for a luncheon of four cost too much. Why not substitute strips of veal, breaded? I know a delicious way of cooking those, and they are ever so much cheaper."

"All right," said Dolly. "Veal strips it is. How about that dessert?"

"Strawberries are only nine cents a box now; those will be all right. And we will have a perfectly delicious salad of that asparagus; that is, we will if it does not go up in price before the luncheon. It has such a queer way in town of getting cheaper one day and more expensive the next. Now for our two invitations. We won't write them, but just run in and ask Mrs. Hays and Mrs. Curtis informally, as it is to be such a very simple affair."

"Yes. I wait on the table, I suppose?" Dolly inquired gloomily.

Her sister laughed. "You do, or I do; it is all the same. But how absurd to think of that! It makes things all the more homelike. You see, you are not used to it; if you were, you would not mind a bit."

"You make me think of the eels who didn't mind being skinned at all—not when they got used to it. But I agree for this time, and when you have the larger luncheon you will get the waitress, won't you?"

"I truly will," promised Mrs. Thorne.

The day of the luncheon found some changes in the meal that had been planned. Asparagus had suddenly taken on a higher price, as they had feared, and they had to do without it. Instead they had lettuce and cheese and nut balls, the latter made by mixing cream cheese and chopped nuts into balls the size of a hickory nut. These were laid in cup-shaped lettuce leaves and French dressing poured over at the last.

The table was laid with the doilies and fern dish of every day, but a festive look was given to it when yellow sprays of genesta were stuck among the ferns. A bread and butter plate stood at the top of each pretty place-plate by the tumbler and a napkin at the side; one knife, and soup spoon lay at the right, and a spoon for tea, two forks at the left, and a dessert spoon across the top of the plate.

Just before luncheon the soup was taken up and put in hot cups, and the strips of veal, the potatoes and peas in the crusts were arranged on hot plates. All these were put in the warming oven, and fresh parsley stood ready in a cup of water on the table, to be added at the last moment. On the sideboard in the dining-room was the salad and the tea tray; the glasses for the dessert were ready in the kitchen, each one standing on a small plate.

The soup was put on before the guests came to the table. After it was eaten Dolly rose and got the hot, filled plates from the oven and put them on the sideboard; then she merely exchanged a hot plate with the food on it for the plate holding the soup cup. There was no delay or confusion, and no passing, so this went off easily, while Mary poured the tea from the tray her sister set before her. The same arrangement was made with the salad; this was already served on the sideboard, and the hot plate on the table was exchanged for the cold one with the lettuce.

After this course everything was taken off and the table crumbed. Then, while an animated conversation covered the pause, Dolly went to the kitchen and took the strawberry mousse from its pail in the tireless stove, being thankful as she did so that she did not have to dive into an ice-cream freezer and extract a wet, icy mould and half freeze her hands. She quickly put a heaping spoonful of the cream in each glass, put on one of the big berries which had been saved on purpose, and carried all four glasses in on a small tray, putting this on the sideboard and serving one at a time from there.

"I did not mind waiting at all," Dolly said, after the guests had gone. "I suppose it was because luncheon is such an informal meal anyway; or rather, it is supposed to be. I think I believe in doing a good deal as the English do both at breakfast and luncheon—have things on the sideboard and let the guests help themselves from there if they choose. However, I flatter myself I did pretty well, to-day. You noticed, I hope, that I left the room only twice, once to get the meat course, and once for the dessert, and no one seemed to pay any attention."

"You did beautifully. You had 'the noiseless tread' the perfect maid is supposed to possess and so seldom actually does have. You see you can get along very well by yourself. Really, if one has everything possible on the sideboard or on the serving table, and will serve the main course ready prepared on plates, there is nothing simpler than a luncheon. Now that we have tea served with the main course quite as often as coffee at the end, that too makes things easy, for with a ready prepared tray one can always manage passing the cups to a few women, and if there is nothing else on the table there can be no confusion."

"And what did it cost?" Dolly inquired, getting out her book.

"Soup: I got a quart of milk for that, and used a little spinach left over from the night before; I got a little extra on purpose when I was buying it. Then I had a third of the milk left still for the potatoes. The soup was about .07. There was three-quarters of a pound of the veal, .21. By the way, did you see me cook that? I pounded it well to ensure its being tender, and then I breaded it twice over."

"I thought you always breaded things twice."

"I mean I breaded it four times. I dipped each piece in crumbs, then in egg, then in crumbs, just as usual; then I laid it away till this dried, and repeated the process. Last of all I fried it in the wire basket in deep fat, and the result was a thick rich crust over veal as tender as chicken. That is the way the Germans cook it, and I think it is awfully good.

"Then the potatoes, those were only .05. The peas, half a can, at .15; I used only half, because by putting them in bread-crusts they not only look prettier, but go much further. The other half of the can we shall have for dinner to-night, mixed with chopped carrots. The salad, lettuce, cheese, nuts and dressing were .25. The mousse took only a bottle of cream, a quarter of a pint,—.12,—and the ice to freeze it was .05. I put in only half a box of the berries at .12, and the rest go in the shortcake for to-night. The almonds were only a handful. I got half a pound and used only half of those; four people do not consume so many as six do, I find. So altogether, and allowing a margin for staples, you see it comes out only a little over $1.00—say about $1.25."

"Perfectly absurd! I supposed it cost to have a luncheon, and it doesn't. I shall live in a perpetual round of gaiety, entertaining seven days a week, at this same rate. Now when will you have another?"

"Next week, I think. This second one will have to cost more, however, for we shall have two more people in, and must give them rather a better meal, or rather, a more elaborate meal. Shall we have the little maid?"

"Oh, well—never mind. I suppose I must learn to do my own waiting if I am to begin as I must keep on afterward. No, I'll wait, Mary."

When they came to write out the menu for this second luncheon, they again put down asparagus.

"I'm afraid we shall be doomed to disappointment, but I hope we may be able to find some that is cheap," sighed Mrs. Thorne. "Nothing makes such a good company salad."

"A little voice within me tells me we shall get it for almost nothing," said her sister comfortably; "put it down, Mary."

This was the menu for the luncheon:

"But why is the main course fish instead of meat?" Dolly inquired anxiously, as she read it over.

"Oh, at luncheon I often have a substantial fish course as a main one; salmon is just what we want, and in the spring I like it better than a meat, anyway. You will see that it is all right. Besides, it is cheap!"

"I suspected as much. Canned, then, of course."

"Yes, my dear, canned, and very good; wait and see!"

This time the centrepiece was the fern dish as usual, but small white flowers were stuck in the earth all through the ferns, and the effect was beautifully fresh.

For the meal, the strawberries were laid on small plates on paper doilies in a circle, with the hulls turned in; in the middle lay a little heap of powdered sugar. A finger-bowl stood above the plate, and this was left on all through the luncheon. In removing this course Dolly merely took off the berry plates, leaving the service plates beneath them on the table and putting the soup cups on these next; later on she substituted the hot, filled plates for both service plate and cup at once.

The salmon was picked over, mixed with a stiff white sauce, seasoned, and then cooled for an hour. The paste which resulted was cut in strips, moulded into oval, chop-shaped pieces, and crumbed as usual; these were again dried, and last fried a golden brown in deep fat; then a paper frill was stuck into each one to represent a chop bone. They were laid on the hot plates and a spoonful of peas and one potato added. As Mary predicted, the guests were fully satisfied, and never missed meat.

The asparagus materialized for the salad, to their delight. It was cooked, chilled, laid on lettuce, and a French dressing poured over just before it was passed. The mousse, or parfait, was made as before, but the flavoring of coffee was a cupful left from breakfast, boiled with the sugar in the place of the water usually cooked with it.

"If that luncheon was not expensive, then I am indeed an ignoramus," said Dolly, when they began to figure out its cost. "It tasted expensive, Mary."

"It was that horrid asparagus. Why did you let me buy it, Dolly? I am truly sorry I did, for like you, I suspect we have spent too much. Let us see.

"Strawberries—a whole box this time. Luckily they are cheaper, however; they cost .10. The soup was much as before: left-over beets and three quarters of a quart of milk; put down .06. Salmon, one can, .25; peas, one can, .15; potatoes, only .05, thank goodness! Asparagus, .30, and right in the height of the season, too; it's absurd. Lettuce, .05. Parfait, say, .20. So, allowing a margin as before, it was about $1.30. Oh, well, that is not as bad as I feared. Six people, too! But then, this time we had almonds left over, and Dick gave me the chocolates we had on the table. We must be careful, anyway, even if this once we have not overrun."

The third luncheon again had but six guests, as Dolly was perfectly sure she could not wait on more. This time they were gay young women who were accustomed to all sorts of elaborate functions, and Dolly secretly dreaded her part. They, however thought it great fun to go to an informal meal cooked by one sister and served by another, and eat few and simple dishes beautifully cooked; so far from criticizing, they rather envied the two hostesses their ability to carry off the affair with ease and charm.

The menu was planned very thoughtfully. They wanted things rather prettier than ever, and yet they must avoid extravagance. They decided on this:

"Five courses," commented Dolly as the last was set down. "And chicken croquettes! I call that elegance."

"Five courses, because we omitted the fruit before the soup, as we had it before, and because fish is cheap and makes a good second course; it sounds more elaborate than it really is. Now for our table: do you suppose we could get some violets from the country? They make such a lovely centrepiece."

"Of course we can. Let's ask the milkman to get us some."

This proved a lucky thought, for the milkman had a small boy who promised to get a quantity of wood violets and send them in early in the morning by his father all tied up in bunches, and all for twenty-five cents. Of course these were not fragrant like hothouse violets, but they had quite as beautiful a color. A lovely table was arranged with a low basket of the violets edged with a heavy band of their own leaves; a couple of small glass dishes held some violet-colored candies, and the finger-bowls which came on with the dessert had a couple of violets in each, so that the effect of the meal was springlike.

The bouillon was made the day before it was needed, out of bones and odds and ends of meat; it was clarified, colored a good brown with kitchen bouquet, and well seasoned. The spoonful of whipped cream on the hot soup gave a touch of richness to it.

The fish was merely a little plain fresh cod, boiled the day before the luncheon, then picked up in the morning, mixed with white sauce, put in individual dishes, with crumbs on top, and browned in the oven. The croquettes were made out of a small-sized can of chicken of the best brand. This was a genuine stroke of economy, for the cost was just half of what the very toughest and oldest fowl would have been. By taking it out of the tin in good season, picking it up and letting it lie in the air till the oxygen lost in canning had been re-absorbed, its flavor was largely restored, and when the croquettes were made and came to the table, golden brown without, creamy within and deliciously seasoned, no one suspected the artifice used in making them. They were served with the peas and potato as before; peas were a staple for luncheon, Mrs. Thorne thought. This time the potatoes were not creamed, however, but cut in balls with a cutter and dropped in fat till they were browned.

Instead of tea with this course, there was chocolate, served from the pot on the table, and in each cup was dropped, last of all, one marshmallow, which puffed and melted in the steaming heat and gave a delightful flavor.

After this course, instead of exchanging the plates for others filled with salad, Dolly altered the plan of service. She took off all the plates and left the table bare. Then she set on the salad in front of her sister; it was so pretty that she wished every one to see it.

They had bought two pineapples, which were cheap just then. One was of moderate size, and the other the very smallest they could find; a perfect baby of a pineapple. The larger one had been peeled, picked up in bits and laid on lettuce on a flat glass dish. The little one was not peeled, but had its brush cut off with a slice from the top; the centre was scooped out till only a shell remained, and this was wiped dry and filled with a stiff mayonnaise; the brush was put on again, and the pineapple put on a plate with the ladle by its side. In serving, Mary put a portion of the lettuce and pineapple on a plate, and removed the cover of the new mayonnaise dish by lifting it by the brush and laying it on the plate; then she added a spoonful of mayonnaise, and Dolly passed the plates for her. This salad was a great success.

Last of all came the vanilla mousse, each glass topped by a big strawberry. A few berries had also been sliced and mixed with the mousse as she put it in the glasses.

"That was the best luncheon yet," said Dolly as they discussed the affair. "Really, I was proud of the table it was so pretty with those violets. I don't know why it is, but lay a table with pretty white doilies and put on violets, and somehow it has a most gorgeous appearance. Then the luncheon itself was good, thanks to your cooking, Mary; I would not have been ashamed to have had anybody in the world drop in—not even a queen! Now what did it cost?"

"The flowers, .25," figured Mrs. Thorne aloud, writing it down as she did so. "Soup, about .05; I have been saving bones for that for days. Fish, half a pound, .09; chicken, .25; peas and potatoes, .20; chocolate and marshmallows, about .10. Salad, two pineapples, one .15 and one .05, and lettuce and mayonnaise, about .30; mousse and berries,—half a box of berries,—about .20. Then almonds and candies and crackers, and the little margin bring it up to, say $1.75. That is much more, Dolly, than we have spent yet."

"Yes, but it's the last one of the season, and think how good it all was!"

"I know, but if we were going on we should have to cut down on things. However, I don't mind this once, as we had money enough for it. Now while you have your book there, do you not think it would be a good idea to write out some more possible luncheons like those we have had, and average the price, so you can have some sort of a guide to go by? We can easily make out some menus for each season in the year, since you are so determined to have them right along."

"Blessings on you for the thought! Begin right away."

"First copy out those we have had and mark them Spring, while I go out and start the family meal that comes next. I have bread to mix, for one thing, so give me time enough."

"Four minutes is plenty for that; I'll give you just five."

When they were ready, the list began with a very simple one first, headed Summer:

"Just make a memorandum of that cucumber purÉe," said Mary as Dolly finished. "You cook the cucumbers soft in just a tiny bit of water; then season well, put them through the sieve, and serve very hot, a spoonful on each plate. It is very good indeed. The salad, too, is nice. Fill green pepper shells with tiny cooked beans, and pour French dressing over; on top of each put one white cream cheese ball, and stand on a lettuce leaf. The ice is just a plain lemon water ice, with preserved ginger cut up in it."

"Now the next one," said Dolly.

"Well, suppose we have two for each season. This will do for another summer one:

"Suppose you can't get crabs; what do you do then?"

"Tell the grocer to order them for you in tins; they come with the shells thrown in at about thirty or forty cents a big can, which holds enough for a whole family. Instead of having the soft-shelled crabs fried, devil the canned meat and serve in the shells; it's perfectly delicious."

"And whatever is yellow tomato salad? I never ate such a thing."

"Don't you know those little pear-shaped yellow tomatoes you see in summer? You scald those and skin them, chill them well, lay them on lettuce, and put on French dressing. Or, you can have mayonnaise with them, if you like. It's a nice change from the usual salad, and it will not interfere with your having fried tomatoes with the main course, for they neither look or taste alike."

"Very well; now the next one."

"Mark this Autumn. Suppose we have melons first;

"Cut the melons in halves, Dolly, and chill them, but mind you don't put ice inside, to make them watery and horrid. And pick out little melons, spicy green ones. Get the big Italian chestnuts to serve with the veal, if you can. Cook and peel them, and leave the inside skins on; then just cream them. If you can't get those, use ordinary ones, and put them through the sieve like a purÉe; they taste just as well. The salad is very pretty. Cut the tops off the red peppers and take out the inside exactly as you did with the green ones; cook the cauliflower, pick it up in flowerets, and mix with French dressing and fill the peppers. If you wish to be perfectly grand, cook a carrot, cut it up into tiny dice, and put a few on top of each; the colors are lovely together. Serve these on lettuce, of course. Then the dessert. Halve nice peaches, peel them, and put one half on a round of sponge cake for each person. Fill the middle with a spoonful of plain ice-cream, and add a little bit of candied cherry if you have any."

"One more for Autumn; two for each season except Spring,—I have three for that," said Dolly complacently.

"Try this:

"That needs no explaining, I am sure. Have sauce tartare instead of white sauce with the fish if you can afford it, Dolly, for it's better. And serve the peaches in glasses, just a little to each person; they will be cheap, anyway, at that time of year. Now for winter; that is the most difficult time to entertain in, to my thinking."

"Still, we must entertain," said Dolly inflexibly.

"Then try this:

"Very good! And as I can make all those things, go right on while the inspiration holds."

"How do you make that salad?"

"Peel the bananas and cut them in halves crosswise; cut off also the pointed end to make each one look like a croquette; then roll them in chopped peanuts and lay them on lettuce. Pass mayonnaise with them."

"That's easy enough," Dolly said as she scribbled it down. "And that is the whole set already. I wish you would go on and do me a lot more, Mary; you do them like a lightning calculator."

"Why did I go to all the trouble to teach you that Game of Menus, I'd like to know, if this is the result? Not another one will I furnish you; just write out a lot yourself."

"Well, but don't rush away like that! Tell me how much these are going to cost?"

"I planned for a dollar and a quarter apiece for six people. That leaves a margin, and you can put as much or as little in addition in flowers and such extravagances as you choose. I do not think any luncheon will cost more than my estimate; if it does, I'll pay the difference."

"Then I'm certain it will not cost one cent more," said Dolly with decision. "That remark settles the matter for me. I know too well you would never make the offer if you were not sure and certain."