When Mrs. Lyman heard what a fright the children had had at Dr. Hilton's she was much displeased, and forbade Siller Noonin ever to talk to them again about witches. Siller confessed she had done wrong, and "hoped Mrs. Lyman wouldn't lay it up against her."

Patty said,—

"Poh, she couldn't scare me! I flied on a broomstick my own self, and I tumbled off. 'Course Mrs. Knowles can't do it; big folks like her!"

At the same time Patty did not like to see Mrs. Knowles come to the house. It wasn't likely she had ever "flied on a broomstick;" but when Mrs. Lyman walked out with the good woman, as she sometimes did, Patty was uneasy till she got home again. Nobody suspected the little girl of such foolishness, and she never told of it till years after, when she was a tall young lady, and did not mind being laughed at for her childish ideas.

But perhaps you would like to know what became of her live dollar. She did not know what to do with so much money, and talked about it first to one and then to another.

"Moses," said she, "which would you ravver do, have me have a hundred cents, and you have ninety-nine cents, or me have ninety-nine cents, and you have a hundred?"

Moses appeared to think hard for a moment, and then said,—

"Well, I guess I'd rather you'd have the hundred."

"O, would you?" cried Patty, kissing him gratefully.

"Yes," said Moses; "for if I had the most, you'd be teasing me for the odd cent."

The dollar burnt Patty's fingers. Some days she thought she would give it to the heathen, and other days she wondered if it would be wrong to spend it for candy. Sometimes she meant to buy a pair of silver shoe-buckles for her darling Moses, and then again a vandyke for her darling Mary. In short, she could not decide what to do with such a vast sum of money.

One day there came to the house a beggar girl, a little image of dirt and rags. She told a pitiful story about a dead mother and a drunken father, and nobody could know that it was quite untrue, and her mother was alive, and waiting for her two miles away.

Patty was so much interested in the little girl's story, that she almost wanted to give her the silver dollar on the spot, but not quite. She ran into the bedroom to ask her mother what it was best to do.

"Why, I thought I fastened that door," cried John, flourishing a paint-brush in her face. "Scamper, or you'll get some paint on your gown."

Patty scampered, but not before she had stained her dress.

"Where is mother?" asked she of Dorcas.

"In the parlor; but don't go in there, child, for the doctor's wife is making a call, and Mrs. Chase, too."

Patty did not wait for Dorcas to finish the sentence, but rushed into the parlor, out of breath. I am afraid she was rather glad to let the doctor's wife know she had some money, and thought of giving it away. Patty was not a bold child, but there were times when she did like to show off.

"O, mother, mother!" cried she, without stopping to look at the ladies. "Let me have my silver dollar this minute! 'Cause there's a poor little—"

"My child," said Mrs. Lyman, in a tone which checked Patty, and made her blush to the roots of her yellow hair.

"Pray, let her finish her story," said the doctor's wife, drawing the little one to her side; "it's something worth hearing, I know."

"It's a little girl," replied Patty, casting down her eyes, "and her mother is dead and her father is drunk."

Patty supposed he lay all the while with his hat on, for she had once seen a man curled up in a heap by the roadside, and had heard John say he was drunk.

"How very sad!" said Mrs. Potter.

Mrs. Chase looked sorry.

"Do you say the mother is dead?" said she.

"Yes'm; the man killed her to death with a jug, and then she died," replied Patty, solemnly.

"Where is the child? Something must be done about it at once," said Mrs. Potter, a very kind lady, but apt to speak without much thought. "O, Patty, dear, I am glad you have such a good heart. It is beautiful to see little children remembering the words of our Saviour, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

Patty's eyes shone with delight. It seemed to her that she was a little Lady Bountiful, going about the world taking care of the poor. She crept closer to Mrs. Potter's side.

"I haven't but just one silver dollar," said she, in a low voice; "but I'd ravver give it to the little girl than keep it myself, I would!"

"Bless your dear little soul," said the doctor's wife, kissing Patty; but Mrs. Chase said nothing; and all at once it occurred to the child that perhaps Mrs. Chase had heard of her being spoken to in meeting, and that was why she did not praise her. Dreadful thought! It frightened Patty so that she covered up her face till both the ladies had gone away, for they did not stay much longer.

After the door was closed upon them, Mrs. Lyman said—,

"Here is your silver dollar, Patty, in my pocket."

Patty fancied that her mother's voice was rather cold. She had expected a few words of praise, or at least a kiss and a smile.

"But think a minute, Patience. Are you sure you want to give it away?"

Patty put her fingers in her mouth, and eyed the dollar longingly. How large, and round, and bright it looked!

"I thought I heard you speak yesterday of buying Dorcas a vandyke,—or was it Mary?—and the day before of getting some shoe-buckles for Moses," added Mrs. Lyman, in the same quiet tones. "And only this morning your mind was running on a jockey for yourself. Whatever you please, dear. Take time to think."

"O, I'd ravver have a jockey. I forgot that—a white one."

"And what will become of the poor little girl?"

"O, I guess Dorcas will give her some remmernants to eat, and folks all around will see to her, you know."

"My child, my child, you don't think as you did when those ladies were here. Do you remember your last Sunday's verse, and what I said about it then?"

Mrs. Lyman's voice was very grave.

Patty repeated the verse,—

"Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them; otherwise, ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven."

She knew very well what it meant.

"Doing alms before women is just the same as doing 'em before men," thought Patty.

She had been making pretty speeches just for the sake of being praised, and she didn't care so very much about the beggar girl after all.

"I am going out to see that poor child for myself," said Mrs. Lyman, putting down the black silk pocket she was making; and Patty followed, with her money clasped close to her bosom.

But by that time the dirty-faced little creature had gone away.

"She told wrong stories," said Dorcas; "she said, in the first place, her mother was dead, and afterwards that her mother was sick."

"Naughty thing! I'm glad I didn't give her my silver dollar!" exclaimed Patty; though she dared not look up, for fear of meeting her mamma's eyes.

"Where have you been, child, to get so stained with paint?" said Rachel, who always saw things before any one else did. "Come here, and let me sponge your gown with spirits of turpentine."

"Strange I shouldn't have noticed that," said Mrs. Lyman. "I hope Mrs. Potter didn't spoil her crape shawl when she put her arm round you, Patience."

Patty dropped her eyes with shame, to think how pleased Mrs. Potter had been with her just for nothing at all.

"Spirits turpletine?" said she, making believe she had never heard the word before. "Spirits turpletine? That isn't angels, Rachel? Then what makes you call 'em spirits?"

Rachel knew the child was talking for the sake of changing the subject, and she would not answer such a foolish question.

"Stand still, you little try-patience," said she, "or I shall never get off the paint."

Mrs. Lyman went back to finish her pocket. Ladies in those days wore them under their dresses, tied about their waists. Mrs. Lyman's was a very pretty one, of quilted black silk, and when it was done, Patty put her dollar in it, and jingled it beside a gold piece of her mother's.

"Which is worth the most, mamma?" said she, "your dollar or my dollar?"

"Mine is worth just twenty times as much as yours."

"Well, I'm glad that naughty girl hasn't got either of 'em," thought Patty. "I'm sorry I made believe good; but I want my dollar, and here 'tis, all safe."

Safe! Before night Patty's dollar was gone, and her mother's gold piece with it,—pocket, and all. It went that very afternoon; but nobody knew it till Mrs. Lyman was getting ready to go to the store two days afterwards, and wanted her pocket to put on.

When she came into the kitchen and said it was not in her bureau drawer, and when Rachel, who always did the hunting, had looked everywhere and could not find it, then there was crying in that house, you may be sure. Patty said at once the beggar girl had taken the pocket.

"But how could she?" said Dorcas. "She was out of sight and hearing before mother began to quilt it."

"Well, then she came back in the night," sobbed Patty.

"I dare say Snippet has put it out of place," said big brother James.

"Yes, Patty is a great hand to lose things," said Rachel.

"No, no, no; that niggeramus girl came and took it; came in the night," persisted Patty.

"Patience!" said her mother, reprovingly; and then Patty had to stop.

She mourned only for the silver dollar. She would have mourned for the gold piece too, if she had known that her mother intended to buy fall clothes with it for the little girls. It was as well Patty did not know this, for she had as much already as she could bear.

Priscilla Noonin came over that afternoon with her knitting. "It was midsummer, and the hay was down," and there were two men helping get it into the barn. One of the men was tall and well formed, but the other, Israel Crossman, was so short as to be almost a dwarf. He had yellow and white hair, was a little lame, and his hands were covered with warts. After supper he sat a few minutes on the top of the fence whittling a stick. As Siller Noonin stood knitting at the window she saw him, and shook her head.

"Somehow or 'nother," said she, "I don't like the looks of that man, and never did. It's my private opinion, Mrs. Lyman, that either he stole your pocket or I did."

"Be careful," whispered Mrs. Lyman, "he will hear you."

He might have heard, or might not; but he soon got off the fence and limped away.

"Israel bears a good character," said Mrs. Lyman; "I will not suspect him, unless I see better reason than I have ever seen yet."

The loss of the silk pocket continued to be a great mystery. Everybody hunted for it from garret to cellar; but summer passed, and it did not come.

Patty's grief wore away by degrees; still she never heard the word "pocket" or the word "dollar" without a pang. And every time she saw Mrs. Chase or Mrs. Potter, she could not help wondering if her money didn't fly away just to punish her for trying to "show off" before them? At any rate, she would never, never "show off" again.