“Cheer up!” she cried; “I didn’t mean it! But you think skilled labour is necessary, and truly, I’m skilled in cooking. I really am.”
“Yes, chafing-dish trifles; and fancy desserts.”
“Well, those are good things for a cook to know.”
“Patty, promise me you won’t take any sort of a servant’s position.”
“Oh, I can’t promise that. I fancy I’d make a rather good lady’s-maid or parlour-maid. But I promise you I won’t be a cook. Much as I like to fuss with a chafing-dish, I shouldn’t like to be kept in a kitchen and boil and roast things all the time.”
“I should say not! Well, since I can’t persuade you to give up your foolish notion, do go on, and get through with your three attempts as soon as possible. Remember, you’ve promised not more than three.”
“I promise,” said Patty, with much solemnity, and then Nan and Mr. Fairfield came in.
Mr. Hepworth appealed at once to Mr. Fairfield, telling him what he had already told Patty.
“Nonsense, Hepworth,” said Patty’s father, “I’m glad you started the ball rolling. It hasn’t done Patty a bit of harm, so far, and it will be an experience she’ll always remember. Let her go ahead; she can’t succeed, but she can have the satisfaction of knowing she tried.”
“I’m not so sure she can’t succeed,” said Nan, standing up for Patty, who looked a little crestfallen at the remarks of her father.