Polly's back was turned, when she heard an exclamation of horror.
Looking around, she saw Molly who, with the package still in
her hand, had dropped into a chair.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously.

"See here!" And Molly pointed solemnly to the label, then burst
into another fit of merriment, as she watched Polly's face grow
blank while she road aloud,--

"'Elastic Starch: Prepared for Laundry Purposes, only.'"

"Whatever do you suppose it will do to us?" asked Molly,
struggling to regain her self-control, and then laughing harder
than ever.

"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