“It would with me,” said Patty decidedly.  “I think your mother ought to know more about you than anybody else.  What would she say if I asked her?”

“She’d say I was careless and heedless and thoughtless, and didn’t know anything,” replied the girl cheerfully; “and I am that way at home, but I wouldn’t be if I worked for you, because I want to be a waitress, and a good one; and you’d see how quick I’d learn.  Oh, do take me, miss.  You’ll never be sorry, and that’s sure!”

This statement was accompanied by such decided gestures of head and hands that Patty was very nearly convinced to the contrary, but she only said, “I’m sorry, Pansy,—­you said your name was Pansy, didn’t you?”

“Yes, miss,—­Pansy Potts.”

“What an extraordinary name!”

“Is it, miss?  Well, you see, my father’s name was Potts; and mother named me Pansy, because she’s so fond of the flower.  You don’t think the name will interfere with my being a waitress, do you?”

“Not so far as I’m concerned,” said Patty, laughing; “but, you see, I shall be a very inexperienced housekeeper, and if I have an inexperienced waitress also, I don’t know what might happen.”

“Why, now, miss; it seems to me that that would work out just right.  You’re a young housekeeper, but I expect you know just about what a waitress ought to do, and you could teach me; and I know a lot about housekeeping, and I could teach you.”

The sincerity in Pansy’s voice and manner impressed Patty, and she looked at her closely, as she said: 

“It does seem good proportion.”

“It is,” said Pansy; “and you’ve no idea how quickly I can learn.”

“Can you?” said Patty.  “Well, then, learn first to call me Miss Patty.  It would suit me much better than to hear you say ‘miss’ so often.”

“Yes, Miss Patty.”

“And don’t wring your hands in that absurd fashion, and don’t stand first on one foot and then on the other, as if you were scared out of your wits.”

“No, Miss Patty.”

Pansy ceased shuffling, dropped her hands naturally to her sides, and stood in the quiet, respectful attitude that Patty had unconsciously assumed while speaking.

Delighted at this quick-witted mimicry, Patty exclaimed: 

“I believe you will do.  I believe you are just the one; but I can’t decide positively, now.  You go home, Pansy, and come to-morrow afternoon to see me at Mrs. Elliott’s.  Do you know where I live?”

“Yes, Miss Patty,” and, with a respectful little bob of her head, Pansy Potts disappeared, and Patty ran back to the house.

“Well, chickadee,” said Mr. Fairfield, “I have about decided that you and I can make ourselves comfortable within these four walls, and, if it suits your ladyship, I think we’ll consider that we have taken the house.”

“It does suit me,” said Patty.  “I’m perfectly satisfied; and I have taken a house-maid.”