When they reached the kitchen Patty was delighted to see how beautifully everything was prepared for cooking. The quail were already on the broiler, the bread cut for toast, the ingredients for the salad dressing measured. The dishes were piled in order and the cooking utensils laid ready to hand.
“Why, it will be no trouble at all!” she exclaimed; “your cook must be a genius to have everything so systematically prepared.”
“Are you quite sure you know how?” said Mrs. Morse, once more, looking doubtfully at the uncooked viands.
“Oh, yes, indeed!” exclaimed Patty, blithely; “it’s twice as easy as I thought it was going to be. But I must have full sway, and no interference of any sort. Now you run along, good lady, and put on your pretty gown, and don’t give another thought to your food. But please send the waitress to me, as we must understand each other.”
Mrs. Morse looked at Patty with a sort of awe, as if she had suddenly discovered a genius in one whom she had hitherto thought of as a mere child. Then she went away to dress, feeling that somehow things would come out all right.
Patty was in her element. Not only because she dearly loved to cook and thoroughly understood the concoction of fancy dishes, but more because she was so delighted to have an opportunity to help Mrs. Morse. Clementine’s mother was one of her ideal women, and Patty admired her exceedingly. Moreover, she had been very kind to Patty and the grateful girl was happy in the thought of being a real help to her good friend.
When Jane came to the kitchen Patty explained the situation to her and in a few clear straightforward orders made it impossible that any mistake should occur between the cooking and the serving. Patty unconsciously assumed an air of dignity, which struck Clementine as intensely comical, but which impressed Jane as the demeanour of a genius.
“Now,” said Patty, when Jane had returned to the dining-room, “I’ll give you fair warning, Clementine, that I shall be pretty cross while I’m doing this cooking. You know crossness is the prerogative of a cook. So don’t mind me, but just help all you can by keeping quiet and doing as I tell you. I’m sorry to seem dictatorial and horrid, but really it’s the only way to make your mother’s luncheon a success.”
And then Patty became entirely absorbed in her work. She took a rapid survey of everything, summarized what she had to do, looked up some forgotten points in a recipe book and moved around so deftly and capably that Clementine just sat and stared at her.
She put the bouillon on to heat, also a great kettle of lard; she moulded the croquettes and put the French peas on the stove.