"But I'm sure you'll be pleased with the way she'd do it. Janet is an artist at hair-dressing." "Nopy! nix on the barber act for little Zaly! I'll comb my own wig, thank you!" With a comb, she stood before the cheval glass, and twisted up the dark mop into a tidy but most unbecoming coil. "Don't you _care_ how it looks?" cried Patty, in dismay. "Really, _don't_ you? And you've such pretty hair!" "Then if it's pretty hair, it doesn't need any fancy doing," and Azalea gave a whimsical smile. "There, that's done. Now for my frock." Janet had whisked the white muslin away, and already had it back, pressed and freshened. "Lovely!" Azalea exclaimed; "how ever did you do it so quick? Happen to have an iron on the stove?" "Electric iron," said Patty, briefly. "They're always handy, you know." "Never saw one. No, Miss Janet,--not that way, it hooks in the back." At last, Azalea was attired, and looked fairly presentable in her white frock; though having no white shoes and stockings she wore black ones. "I'd like white ones," she said, apologetically, "but I could only have two pairs so I got black and the ones I wore here." "Quite right," said Patty, appreciatively; "I'll be glad to get you some white ones. They'd be pretty with this frock." "Oh, thank you. I'd love to have 'em. Where we going now?" "Suppose you come to my room, while I dress," Patty suggested, thinking an object lesson in the arts of the toilette might not be amiss. "O.K.," and the visitor strode along by the side of her hostess. They _were_ a contrast! Patty, dainty, graceful and sweet, was the very antithesis of tall, gawky Azalea, with her countrified dress and badly made black shoes. Her careless air, too, was unattractive,--for it was not the nonchalance of experience, but the unselfconsciousness of sheer ignorance of urban ways and manners. "My land! what a room," the country girl ejaculated, as they entered Patty's boudoir. "How ever can you live in this fancy place! It's like a picture!" "It is," agreed Patty, pleased at the comment. "But I love it. I'm afraid I'm too fond of soft lights and pretty appointments, and delicate fragrance." "Well, you've got it! My land! I'm afraid to move around! I don't want to break anything." "You won't," laughed Patty. "Sit there, and we can talk while I get into my gown. I do my own hair, too," and she shook down her mop of golden curls, to Azalea's hearty admiration. CHAPTER VI TABLE MANNERS Patty's dining-room was beautiful. She argued that as an appreciable percentage of one's waking hours were spent there, care and thought should be given to its appointment. The colouring was soft old blue, and the furniture of mahogany. The lights were pleasantly shaded and the sideboards and cabinets showed attractive silver and glass in immaculate order. "The flowers are in your honour," said Patty, smiling, as they took their places at the table, in the centre of which was a bowl of azaleas.