CHAPTER VII.
DIFFERING TASTES A few days before the close of the old year, Patty sat at her desk in the library of Boxley Hall.
She was making lists of good things to be ordered for the feast on New Year's day; and, as it was her first unaided experience with such memoranda, she wore an air of great importance and a deeply puckered brow.
Mancy, with her arms comfortably akimbo, stood before her young mistress ready to suggest, but tactfully chary of advice.
They were not yet living in the new home, but all the furniture was in place, the furnace fire had been started, and the palms arranged in the little conservatory.
So Patty spent most of her time there, and some of the Elliotts were usually there with her.
But this morning she was alone with Mancy, struggling with the all-important lists.
"I'll make the salad myself," she remarked, as she wrote "olive oil" on her slip of paper.
"Yas'm," answered Mancy, rolling her eyes with an expression of dubious approval.

"Does yo' know how, missy ?" "Oh, yes," said Patty confidently; "I can make most beautiful salad dressing.

Only it does take quite a long time, and I shall have a lot to do Thursday morning.

Perhaps I'd better leave it to you this time, Mancy.
Can you make it ?" "Laws, yes, honey; and yo'd better leave it to me.

Yo'll have enough to do with yo' flowers and fixin's, and dressin' yourself up pretty.