How are _you_ progressing, Mancy ?" Patty stepped across the hall to her cook's room, and found its stout occupant rather precariously perched on a chair, tacking up a picture.
She had evidently improved her time, for many other pictures were already in place, and, what is unusual in either a public or private art-gallery, the pictures were all exactly alike.

They were large, very highly coloured, unframed, and, in fact, were nothing more or less than advertisements of a popular soap.

The subject was a broadly-grinning old coloured woman, washing clothes, that were already snow-white, in a sea of soapsuds.
"For goodness' sake, Mancy!" exclaimed Patty.

"Who said you might drive tacks all over these new walls, and where did you get all those pictures of yourself ?" "They does favour me, don't they, missy ?" exclaimed Mancy, beaming with delight, as she took another tack from her mouth, and pounded it into place.

"I got 'em from de grocer man, and co'se I has to tack 'em, else how would dey stay up ?" "But you have so many of them." "Laws, chile, only a dozen; youse got mo'n that on the libr'y wall." "But ours are different; these are all alike." "Co'se dey's all alike! I des nachelly gets tired of lookin' at different pitchers.