ts 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.

Veva said: "I'd like to throw the dishes away after every meal. If a
fairy would offer _me_ three wishes the first one I'd make would be
never to touch a dishcloth again so long as I lived."

"Oh, Veva!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Think of the lovely china the Enderbys
have, and the glass which came to Mrs. Curtis from her
great-grandmother. Would you like a piece of that to be broken if it
were yours?"

"No-o-o!" acknowledged Veva. "But our dishes are not so sacred, and our
Bridgets break them regularly. We are always having to buy new ones as
it is. Mamma groans, and sister Constance sighs, and Aunt Ernie scolds,
but the dishes go."

"Mother thinks that the old-fashioned gentlewomen, who used to wash the
breakfast things themselves, were very sensible and womanly."

Eva shrugged her plump shoulders, but took a towel to wipe the silver. I
had gathered up the dishes, and taken my own way of going about this
piece of work.

First I too