"Does that mean art-gal'ry?"

"Not exactly; but tell me, Mancy, did you get all these pictures because they looked like you? And was the grocer willing to give you so many?"

"Yas'm. But I 'spects I'll hab to confess a little about dat, Miss Patty.

You see, I dun tole him I was gwine t' work for yo', and dat's huccome he guv 'em to me."

"That's all right, Mancy. After he gets that long order we made out this morning, I'm sure he'll feel he was justified in favouring us; but get down out of that chair. In the first place, you'll fall and break your neck, and if you don't, you'll break the chair. Get down, and I'll tack up the rest of your pictures."

"Thank you, missy, do; and I'll hand you the tacks. There's only six more, anyhow. I 'llowed to have three over the mantel, and two over that window, and one behind the door."

"But you can't see it; that door is usually open."

"No'm; but I'll know it's there jes' the same."

"All right; here goes, then," and soon Patty had the rest of the gaudy lithographs tacked into their designated places.

"Now, Mancy," she said, as she jumped down from the chair for the last time, "you don't want any other pictures, do you? It would interfere with the artistic unities to introduce any other school."

"Laws 'a' ma.s.sy, chile; I don't want to go to school! Miss Patty, sometimes you does cert'nly talk like a Choctaw Injun. Leastways, _I_ can't understand you."

"It doesn't really matter," said Patty, "and we're even, anyway; for I can't understand why _you_ want those fearful posters in your room, instead of the nice little pictures I had planned to give you."

"Oh, yes; I knows yo' nice little pictures! with a narrow black ban', jes' about the size ob a sheet of mo'nin' paper! No, thank you, missy, no black-bordered envelopes hanging on my wall! Give me good reds and yallers and blues; the kind you can hear with yo' eyes shut. That is, ef yo' don't mind, missy. Ef yo' does, I'll take 'em all right slam-bang down."

"No, no, Mancy; it's all right. In your own room I want you to have just exactly what you want, and nothing else. Now, let's go and see how Pansy's getting along."

The rockery was completed, and was a most imposing structure. Wheat ears and dried oats were sticking out from between the stones, and pressed autumn leaves added a touch of colour. At the base of the rockery were a large pink-lined conch-sh.e.l.l and several smaller sh.e.l.ls. On the walls were various branches of different species of vegetation; among others a tangle of twigs of the cotton plant, from which depended numerous bolls.

Pansy was struggling with a lot of evergreen boughs, which she was trying to crowd into a strange-looking receptacle.

"How do you like it, Miss Patty?" she asked, as Patty stood in the doorway and gazed in.

"I like it very much, for you, Pansy," replied Patty. "If this is the kind of room you want, I'm very glad for you to have it; only, I don't know whether to call it 'First Course in Mineralogy,' or 'How to Tell the Wild Flowers,'"

CHAPTER VIII

AN UNATTAINED AMBITION

To say that Boxley Hall was in readiness for the party would be stating it very mildly. It was overflowing,--yes, fairly bursting with readiness.

New Year's day was on Thursday, and Patty had decreed that on that day none of the Elliotts should go to Boxley Hall until they came as guests.

Dinner was to be at two o'clock, and in the morning Patty and her father went over to their new home together.

"Just think, papa," said Patty, squeezing his hand as they went along, "how many times we have walked--and run, too, for that matter--from Aunt Alice's over to our house; but this time it's different. We're going to stay, to live, really to _reside_ in our own home; and whenever we go to Aunt Alice's again, it will be to visit or to call. Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely! If I can only live up to it, and do things just as you want me to."

"Don't take it too seriously, Pattikins; I don't expect you to become an old and experienced housewife all at once. And I don't want you to wear yourself out trying to become such a personage. Indeed, I shall be terribly disappointed if you don't make ridiculous mistakes, and give me some opportunity to laugh at you."

"You are the dearest thing, papa; that's just the way I want you to feel about it; and I think I can safely promise to make enough blunders to keep you giggling a good portion of the time."

"Oh, don't go out of your way to furnish me with amus.e.m.e.nt. And now, how about your party to-day? Is everything in tip-top order?"

"Yes, except a few thousand things that I have to do this morning, and a few hundred that I want you to do."

"I shall see to it, first, that the carving-knife is well sharpened. It's the first time that I have carved at my own table for a great many years, and I want the performance to be marked by grace and skill."

"It will be, if you do it, papa; I'm sure of that," and by this time they had reached the gate, and Patty was skipping along the path and up the steps, and into the door of her own home.

Mancy and Pansy Potts were already there, and, to a casual observer, it looked as if there was nothing more to do except to admit the guests.

Patty had set the table the day before, and, to the awestruck admiration of Pansy Potts, had arranged the beautiful new gla.s.s and china with most satisfactory effects. Pansy had watched the proceedings with intelligent scrutiny and, when it was finished, had told Patty that the next time she would be able to do it herself.

"You'll have a chance to try," Patty had answered, "for in the evening we'll have supper, and you may set the table all by yourself; and I'll come out and look it over to make sure it's all right."

But, as Patty had said, there was yet much to be done on Thursday morning, even though there were eight hands to make the work light.

Boxes of flowers had arrived from the florist's, and these had to be arranged in the various rooms; also, a few potted plants in full bloom had come for the conservatory, and these so delighted the soul of Pansy Potts that Patty feared the girl would spend the whole day nursing them.

"Come, Pansy," she called; "let them grow by themselves for a while; I want your help in the kitchen."

"But, oh, Miss Patty, they're daisies! Real white daisies, with yellow centres!"

"Well, they'll still be daisies to-morrow, and you'll have more time to admire them then."

Patty's ambitions in the culinary line ran to the fanciful and elaborate confections which were pictured in the cook-books and in the household periodicals; especially did she incline toward marvellous desserts which called for spun sugar, and syllabubs, and rare sweetmeats, and patent freezing processes.

For her New Year's dinner party she had decided to try the most complicated recipe of all, and, moreover, intended to surprise everybody with it.

Warning her father to keep out of the kitchen on pain of excommunication, she rolled up her sleeves and tied on a white ap.r.o.n; and with her open book on the table before her, began her proceedings.

Pansy Potts was set to whipping cream with a new-fangled syllabub-churn, and Mancy was requested to blanch some almonds and pound them to a paste in a very new and very large mortar.

Though the good-natured Mancy was more than willing to help her young mistress through what threatened to be somewhat troubled waters, yet she had the more substantial portions of the dinner to prepare, and there was none too much time.

As Patty went on with her work, difficulties of all sorts presented themselves. The cream wouldn't whip, but remained exasperatingly fluid; the sugar refused to "spin a thread," and obstinately crystallised itself into a hard crust; the almonds persisted in becoming a lumpy ma.s.s, instead of a smooth paste; and the gelatine, as Patty despairingly remarked, "acted like all possessed!"

But, having attempted the thing, she was bound to carry it through, though it was with some misgivings that she finally poured a queer and sticky-looking substance into the patent freezer.

Pansy Potts had declared herself quite able to accomplish the freezing process; but, as she was about to begin, she announced in tragic tones that the extra ice hadn't come.

"Oh!" exclaimed Patty, in desperation, "everything seems to go wrong about that dessert! Well, Pansy, you use what ice there is, and I'll telephone for some more, right away."

But when Patty called up the ice company she found that their office was closed for the day, and, hanging up the receiver with an angry little jerk, she turned to find her father smiling at her.