"Yes, sir." Patty dropped her eyes, and drew her toe along a crack in the floor, like a bashful child.
"You little rascal! I believe you can! Well, then, you can be chef and
I'll be assistant. I WAS going to arrange it the other way."
"Oh, no, sir! I'll give the orders." And Patty looked as wise and dignified as a small bluebird on a twig.
"You bet you will, my lady! Now, first and foremost, shall I pare the potatoes?"
"Oh, Billee, there must be a scullery maid or something for that!"
"Don't see any, and don't want any! I'm not afraid of staining my lily-white fingers. You'd better put those sweetbreads in cold water to blanch them, and cut up some bread to dry out a little for the squab stuffing."
"For goodness gracious sake! Do you know it all?" exclaimed Patty, looking at him in amazement.
"Yes, I know everything in all the world. I'm a terrible knower!"
"You are so! How did you learn it all?"
"Born so. Are you going to have that sort of a grape fruit muddle in glasses?"