The next morning Nan went with Patty to take the centrepieces back to the embroidery company.

“I shall really like to see that woman,” said Nan, as they reached the shop.

“I’m sorry for her,” said Patty; “she’s so pathetically weary and hopeless-looking.”

So she was, and when Nan saw her, she felt sorry for her, too.

“Couldn’t work as fast as you thought?” she said to Patty, not unkindly, but with the hard smile that seemed to be permanently fastened to her face.

“No, I couldn’t,” confessed Patty. “I only worked part of one piece. I’ve brought all the rest back, in good order, and I want you to redeem them.”

In her mechanical way, the woman took the untouched centrepieces, looked at them critically, and laid them aside. Then she took up the piece Patty had worked on.

“I’ll have to deduct for this,” she said; “a dollar and a half.”

“What do you mean?” asked Nan, angry at what she considered gross injustice. “Miss Fairfield does not ask payment; she is giving you all that work.”

“She has spoiled this piece for our use. She works nicely enough, but no two people work exactly alike, so no one else could now take this and complete the corner. So, you see the piece is valueless, and we must charge for it. Moreover, I should have to deduct fifty cents if it had been finished, because long stitches show on the wrong side.”

“And you don’t allow that?” said Nan.

“Never. We deduct for that, or for soiling the work, or for using wrong colours.”

“Well,” said Patty, “return me as much of my deposit as is due me, and we’ll consider the incident closed.”

Stolidly, the woman opened a drawer, counted out sixteen dollars and a half, and gave it to Patty, who said good-day, and stalked out of the shop.

Nan followed, and when they were seated in the motor-car, both broke into peals of laughter.

“Oh, Patty,” cried Nan, “what a financier you are! You nearly killed yourself working yesterday, and now you’ve paid a dollar and a half for the privilege!”

“Pooh!” said Patty. “Nothing of the sort. I paid a dollar and a half for some valuable experience, and I think I got it cheap enough!”

“Yes, I suppose you did. Well, what are you going to do next? For I know you well enough to know you’re not going to give up your scheme entirely.”

“Indeed I’m not! But to-day I’m going to frivol. I worked hard enough yesterday to deserve a rest, and I’m going to take it. Come on, let’s go somewhere nice to luncheon, and then go to a matinÉe; it’s Wednesday.”

“Very well; I think you do need recreation. I’ll take you to Cherry’s for luncheon, and then we’ll go to see a comic opera, or some light comedy.”

“You’re a great comfort, Nan,” said Patty. “You always do just the right thing. But you needn’t think you can divert my mind to the extent of making me give up this plan of mine. For I won’t do that.”

“I know you won’t. But next time do try something easier.”

“I shall. I’ve already made up my mind what it’s to be; and truly, it’s dead easy.”

“I thought your red-headed friend cured you of using slang,” said Nan, smiling.

“I thought so, too,” said Patty, with an air of innocent surprise. “Isn’t it queer how one can be mistaken?”

True to her determination, Patty started out again the following morning to get an “occupation,” as they all termed it.

Again Miller was amazed at the address given him, but he said nothing, and proceeded to drive Patty to it.

It was even less attractive than the former shop, being nothing more or less than an establishment where “white work” was given out.

“How many?” asked the woman in charge, and, profiting by past experience, Patty said:

“One dozen.”

The woman took her name and address, in a quick, business-like way.

“One dollar a dozen,” she said. “Must be returned within the week. Deductions made for all imperfections.”

She handed Patty a large bundle done up in newspaper, and, with flaming cheeks, Patty walked out of the shop.

“Home, Miller,” she said, and though the man was too well trained to look surprised, he couldn’t keep an expression of astonishment out of his eyes when he saw Patty’s burden.

On the way home she opened the parcel.

There were in it twelve infants’ slips, of rather coarse muslin. They were cut out, but not basted.

Patty looked a little doubtful, then she thought:

“Oh, pshaw! It’s very different from that fine embroidery. I can swish these through the sewing-machine in no time at all.”

Reaching home, she threw the lap-robe over her bundle, and hurried into the house with it.

“Patty,” called Nan, as she whisked upstairs to her own room, “come here, won’t you?”

“Yes, in a minute,” Patty called back, flying on upstairs, and depositing the bundle in a wardrobe.

She locked the door, and hid the key, then went demurely downstairs.

“Occupation all right?” asked Nan, smiling.

“Yes,” said Patty, jauntily. “Good work this time; not so fine and fussy.”

“Well; I only wanted to tell you that Elise telephoned, and wants you to go to a concert with her this afternoon. I forget where it is; she said for you to call her up as soon as you came home.”

“All right, I will,” said Patty, and she went to the telephone at once.

“It’s a lovely concert, Nan,” she said, as she returned. “Jigamarigski is going to sing, and afterward I’m to go home with Elise to dinner, and they’ll bring me home. What shall I wear?”

“Wear your light green cloth suit, and your furs,” said Nan, after a moment’s consideration. “And your big white beaver hat. It’s too dressy an affair for your black hat.”

Apparently the “occupation” was forgotten, for during luncheon time, Patty chatted about the concert and other matters, and at two o’clock she went away.

“You look lovely,” said Nan, as, in her pretty cloth suit, and white hat and furs, Patty came to say good-by.

The concert proved most enjoyable. Dinner at the Farringtons’ was equally so, and when Patty reached home at about nine o’clock, she had much to tell Nan and her father, who were always glad to hear of her social pleasures.

“And the occupation?” asked Mr. Fairfield. “How is it progressing?”

“Nicely, thank you,” returned Patty. “I’ve picked an easy one this time. One has to learn, you know.”

Smiling, she went to her room that night, determined to attack the work next morning and hurry it through.

But next morning came a note from Clementine, asking Patty to go to the photographer’s with her at ten, and as Patty had promised to do this when called on, she didn’t like to refuse.

“And, anyway,” she thought, “a week is a week. Whatever day I begin this new work, I shall have a week from that day to earn the fifteen dollars in.”

Then, that afternoon was so fine, she went for a motor-ride with Nan.

And the next day, some guests came to luncheon, and naturally, Patty couldn’t absent herself without explanation.

And then came Sunday. And so it was Monday morning before Patty began her new work.

“Excuse me to any one who comes, Nan,” she said, as she left the breakfast table. “I have to work to-day, and I mustn’t be interrupted.”

“Very well,” said Nan. “I think, myself, it’s time you began, if you’re going to accomplish anything.”

Armed with her pile of work, and her basket of sewing materials, Patty went up to the fourth floor, where a small room was set apart as a sewing-room. It was rarely used, save by the maids, for Nan was not fond of sewing; but there was a good sewing-machine there, and ample light and space.

Full of enthusiasm, Patty seated herself at the sewing-machine, and picked up the cut-out work.

“I’ll be very systematic,” she thought. “I’ll do all the side seams first; then all the hems; then I’ll stitch up all the little sleeves at once.”

The plan worked well. The simple little garments had but two seams, and setting the machine stitch rather long, Patty whizzed the little white slips through, one after the other, singing in time to her treadle.

“Oh, it’s too easy!” she thought, as in a short time the twenty-four seams were neatly stitched.

“Now, for the hems.”

These were a little more troublesome, as they had to be folded and basted; but still, it was an easy task, and Patty worked away like a busy bee.

“Now for the babykins’ sleeves,” she said, but just then the luncheon gong sounded.

“Not really!” cried Patty, aloud, as she glanced at her watch.

But in very truth it was one o’clock, and it was a thoughtful Patty who walked slowly downstairs.

“Nan,” she exclaimed, “the trouble with an occupation is, that there’s not time enough in a day, or a half-day, to do anything.”

Nan nodded her head sagaciously.

“I’ve always noticed that,” she said. “It’s only when you’re playing, that there’s any time. If you try to work, there’s no time at all.”

“Not a bit!” echoed Patty, “and what there is, glides through your fingers before you know it.”

She hurried through her luncheon, and returned to the sewing-room. She was not tired, but there was a great deal yet to do.

The tiny sleeves she put through the machine, one after another, until she had twenty-four in a long chain, linked by a single stitch.

“Oh, method and system accomplish wonders,” she thought, as she snipped the sleeves apart, and rapidly folded hems round the little wrists.

But even with method and system, twenty-four is a large number, and as Patty turned the last hem, twilight fell, and she turned on the lights.

“Goodness, gracious!” she thought. “I’ve yet all these sleeves to set, and stitch in, and the fronts to finish off; and a buttonhole to work in each neckband.”

But it was only half-past four, and by half-past six they were all finished but the buttonholes.

And Patty was nearly finished, too!

She had not realised how physically tired she was. Running the sewing-machine all day was an unusual exertion, and when she reached her own room, with her arms full of the little white garments, she threw them on the bed, and threw herself on the couch, weary in every bone and muscle.

“Well, what luck?” said Nan, appearing at Patty’s doorway, herself all dressed for dinner.

“Oh, Nan,” cried Patty, laughing, “me legs is broke; and me arms is broke; and me back is broke. But I’m not nervous or worried, and I’m going to win out this time! But, Nan, I just can’t go down to dinner. Send Jane up with a tray,—there’s a dear. And tell father I’m all right, but I don’t care to mingle in society to-night.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re in good spirits,” said Nan, half annoyed, half laughing, as she saw the pile of white work on the bed.

“Run along, Nan, there’s a good lady,” said Patty, jumping up, and urging Nan out the door. “Skippy-skip, before father comes up to learn the latest news from the seat of war. Tell him everything is all right, and I’m earning my living with neatness and despatch, only working girls simply can’t get into chiffons and dine with the ‘quality.’”

Reassured by Patty’s gay air, Nan went downstairs, laughing, and told her husband that she believed Patty would yet accomplish her project.

“These experiences will do her no harm,” said Mr. Fairfield, after hearing Nan’s story. “So long as she doesn’t get nervous or mentally upset, we’ll let her go on with her experiment. She’s a peculiar nature, and has a wonderful amount of will-power for one so young.”

“I’ve always heard you were called stubborn,” said Nan, smiling, “though I’ve never seen it specially exemplified in your case.”

“One doesn’t need to be stubborn with such an angelic disposition as yours in the house,” he returned, and Nan smiled happily, for she knew the words were lovingly in earnest.

Meantime, Patty was sitting luxuriously in a big easy-chair, eating her dinner from the tray Jane had brought her.

“This is rather fun,” she thought; “and my, but running a sewing-machine does give one an appetite! I could eat two trays-full, I verily believe. Thank goodness, I’ve no more stitching to do.”

Having despatched her dinner, perhaps a trifle hastily, Patty reluctantly left her big easy-chair for a small rocker by the drop-light.

She wearily picked up a little gown, cut a buttonhole at the throat, and proceeded to work it. As she was so skilful at embroidery, of course this was easy work; but Patty was tired, and her fingers almost refused to push the needle through the cloth. About ten o’clock Nan came upstairs.

Patty was just sewing on the last button, the buttonholes being all done.

This fact made her jubilant.

“Nan!” she cried; “what do you think! I’ve made a whole dozen of these baby-slips to-day!”

“Patty! You don’t mean it! Why, my dear child, how could you?”

“On the machine. And they’re done neatly, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are, indeed. But Patty——”

“What?”

“I hate to tell you,—but——”

“Oh, what is it, Nan? Is the material wrong side out?”

“No, you goosie, there’s no right or wrong side to cotton cloth, but——”

“Well, tell me!”

“Every one of these little sleeves is made upside down!”

“Oh, Nan! It can’t be!”

“Yes, they are, dearie. See, this wider part should have been at the top.”

“Oh, Nan, what shall I do? I thought they were sort of flowing sleeves, you know. Kimono-shaped ones, I mean.”

“No; they’re set wrong. Oh, Patty, why didn’t you let me help you? But you told me to keep away.”

“Yes, I know I did. Now, I’ve spoiled the whole dozen! I like them just as well that way, myself, but I know they’ll ‘deduct’ for it.”

“Patty, I don’t think you ought to do ‘white work’ anyway. How much are they going to pay you?”

“A dollar a dozen.”

“And you’ve done a dozen in a day. That won’t bring you fifteen dollars in a week.”

“Well, I thought the second dozen would go faster, and it probably will. And, of course, I shan’t make that mistake with the sleeves again. Truly, Nan, it’s a heap easier than embroidery.”

“Well, don’t worry over it to-night,” said Nan, kissing her. “Take a hot bath and hop into bed. Perhaps you have found the right work after all.”

Nan didn’t really think she had, but Patty had begun to look worried, and Nan feared she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

But sleep she did, from sheer physical exhaustion.

And woke next morning, almost unable to move! Every muscle in her body was lame from her strenuous machine work. She couldn’t rise from her bed, and could scarcely raise her head from the pillow.

When Catherine, Nan’s maid, came to her room, Patty said, faintly:

“Ask Mrs. Fairfield to come up, please.”

Nan came, and Patty looked at her comically, as she said:

“Nan, I’m vanquished, but not subdued. I’m just one mass of lameness and ache, but if you think I’ve given up my plan, you’re greatly mistaken. However, I’m through with ‘white work,’ and I’ve sewed my last sew on a machine.”

“Why, Patty girl, you’re really ill,” said Nan, sympathetically.

“No, I’m not! I’m perfectly well. Just a trifle lame from over-exercise yesterday. I’ll stay in bed to-day, and Nan, dear, if you love me, take those slips back to the kind lady who let me have them to play with. Make her pay you a dollar for the dozen, and don’t let her deduct more than a dollar for the upside-downness of the sleeves. Tell her they’re prettier that way, anyway. And, Catharine, do please rub me with some healing lotion or something,—for I’m as lame as a jelly-fish!”

“Patty,” said Nan, solemnly, “the occasion requires strong language. So I will remark in all seriousness, that, you do beat all!”