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 glass 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.
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