"I'll put this
hateful, childish, round comb in and out just once more, then it
will disappear forever. This very after-noon up goes my hair!"
"You know it will be of no use unless you braid it very plainly
and neatly. Father will take notice and make you smooth it down."
"Father hasn't looked me square in the face for years; besides,
my hair won't braid, and nothing can make it quite plain and
neat, thank goodness! Let us be thankful for small mercies, as
Jed Morrill said when the lightning struck his mother-in-law and
skipped his wife."
"Patty, I will not permit you to repeat those tavern stories;
they are not seemly on the lips of a girl!" And Waitstill came
out of the pantry with a shadow of disapproval in her eyes and in
her voice.
Patty flung her arms round her sister tempestuously, and pulled
out the waves of her hair so that it softened her face.--"I'll be
good," she said, "and oh, Waity! let's invent some sort of cheap
happiness for to-day! I shall never be seventeen again and we
have so many troubles!
Let's put one of the cows in the horse's stall and see what will
happen! Or let's spread up our beds with the head at the foot and
put the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, or let's
make candy! Do you think father would miss the molasses if we
only use a cupful? Couldn't we strain the milk, but leave the
churning and the dishes for an hour or two, just once? If you say
'yes' I can think of something wonderful to do!"
"What is it?" asked Waitstill, relenting at the sight of the
girl's eager, roguish face.
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