"Aunt Alice," said Patty, the next morning after breakfast, "I want to have a little talk with you, and won't you come up to my Fairy Bower so we can be by ourselves,—for it's a sort of secret?"

"I will, my child," said Aunt Alice, "as soon as I've attended to a few household duties. I'll meet you there, in about half an hour. Will your secret keep that long?"

"Oh, yes indeed; I'm in no hurry at all."

"I don't seem to be included in the secret," said Marian; "but come with me, Patty, won't you, until mamma is ready for you? I'm going to water the palms and plants in the front veranda. That is always part of my morning's work."

"Let me help you," said Patty, and the two girls went off together.

In a short time Aunt Alice reappeared, saying, "Now, Patty girl, I'm at your disposal. Marian, dear, remember this is Thursday, and the Basket Drill is at ten."

"Yes, I know, mamma. I'll be ready for it."

When Mrs. Elliott was comfortably seated in a rocking-chair on the balcony,
Patty drew up a small wicker stool and sat down in front of her.

"Aunt Alice," she began, "my secret is just this. I haven't any clothes that are fit to wear, and I want you to help me get some. When I was at Aunt Isabel's she bought me loads of dresses, but they were all winter ones, and besides, I don't believe they're the kind you'd like. In Boston, at Aunt Hester's, nobody ever thought much about what they wore, and I got along all right, somehow, but this summer down at Aunt Grace's, my clothes seemed to go to pieces all at once."

"Like the 'One-Hoss-Shay,'" said Aunt Alice, laughing. "Well, this is indeed a sad state of affairs. But perhaps we can find a way out of the difficulty."

"Yes, of course we can," said Patty, eagerly. "Papa sends me money whenever I ask him for it; so if you'll buy me some clothes, he'll repay you at once. I want everything. My things are no good at all."

"Wait, wait," said Aunt Alice, "don't dispose of your wardrobe in such a summary way. Suppose we look it over together, and see what's best to be done."

"All right," said Patty, "but I'm really ashamed to show you the miserable lot."

"Why, Patty," said Aunt Alice, as she looked over the torn and crumpled dresses and under-clothing, "these do seem to be unwearable, but they are not hopelessly so. You see, the trouble is, they've been neglected, and clothes, like plants or children, won't thrive under neglect."

"I know it, Aunt Alice, but we never thought of mending things down at the
Hurly-Burly, and there was no one to do it for us, as there was at Aunt
Isabel's."

"Never mind your other aunts, Patty; you have to deal now with your Aunt
Alice, and you will find her a regular tyrant."

But the loving smile which accompanied this speech robbed it of all tyrannical effect.

"Now," the "tyrant" went on, "we'll put in one pile all the things that are too faded or worn to be of use to you, and those we'll give away to some one who can use them. These heavy silk and velvet frocks and these gorgeous party dresses we'll just lay away for the present, and now we'll put in this place all that needs mending. It's a shame to see these dainty little white petticoats and nightgowns with their buttons off, and their trimmings torn."

"Yes, Aunt Isabel bought me those, and they were lovely when they were new."

"And they'll be lovely again, for they only need a few stitches and some good laundry-work to make them as pretty and fresh as ever. Do you know how to sew, Patty?"

"No, Aunt Alice, I don't. When I was at home, Mrs. Miller, our landlady, always looked after my things, and I never thought of sewing; and since I've been North, I haven't, either."

"Well, Patty, sewing is an old-fashioned accomplishment, I suppose, but I think it is something that every woman ought to know; and if you are going to keep my brother's house for him, I am going to see to it that you are well equipped for the task, and to that end I'm going to instruct you in both sewing and housekeeping. There, Miss Patty Fairfield, how do you like that?"

Patty ran to her aunt's arms, which were open to receive her, and kissed her lovingly.

"Oh, Aunt Alice, I'll be so glad if you will, for I do want to keep papa's house right. But Aunt Grace told me not to worry about it, and the house would keep itself."

"Never mind Aunt Grace now, you are under Aunt Alice's orders, as I told you. And she was right in telling you not to worry about it; but as to a house keeping itself, I haven't heard that the autohome has been invented yet, and until it is, we'll stand by the old methods of housekeeping. And so, every morning, my dear Patty, unless something very important calls you elsewhere, you are to spend two hours with me, in studying what the wise people call Domestic Science, but I call Domestic Common-sense."

Patty's little face looked very bright and happy, for she was truly anxious to learn these things, and there had been no opportunities during her other visits.

"I treat Marion in the same way," said Aunt Alice. "Although we have several servants, Marian has learned and practiced many branches of housework and she sews very nicely. But I don't think you will find Marian 'worried' or even impatient at the irksome tasks."

"No, indeed, Aunt Alice, Marian is as bright and cheery as a sunbeam, and
I'm sure no task could be irksome if you advised or assisted with it."

"Oh, you don't know me yet," laughed Aunt Alice; "didn't I tell you I was a tyrant? But you do need some new things, child, and we'll buy them in a day or two."

Aunt Alice counted over the dresses which could be made available for use, and then, selecting a number of garments only slightly out of repair, she said:

"This morning we'll attack these. Did you hear me tell Marian to remember the Basket Drill? Well, that means the sewing or mending basket; and if you'll bring yours with you, we'll attend a Ladies' Sewing Society in the sitting-room at once."

In the sitting-room they found Marian with her basket of work, and grandma, who was darning stockings.

With kindly care and patience Aunt Alice showed Patty how to mend neatly, and as the pupil was by no means stupid, she did great credit to her teacher.

After they had sewed for about an hour, Mrs. Elliott said:

"Now, children, put away your baskets and run out to play. You need fresh air and sunshine quite as much as buttons and strings. Marian, why don't you take Patty down and show her the Falls? You'll have just about time enough to go and get back to luncheon."

"We will," said Marian; "come along, Patty."

As Patty was by nature adaptable to her surroundings, she followed Marian's example and arranged her work-basket tidily and then put it away in its place, though down at the Hurly-Burly it would never have occurred to her to do so, and nobody would have set her such an example.

Patty thought to herself, "Well, these people have the right proportion of system and order, anyhow; I wonder if they're lacking in some other proportion. I haven't seen it yet, if they are."

And she didn't discover it later, either; for though not perfect people, by any means, the Elliotts had a true sense of proportion, and no duty or pleasure was pursued to excess, and so allowed to crowd out other duties or pleasures.

"Mother," said Frank, as they sat on the veranda, one evening, soon after Patty's arrival, "I think we might have a picnic in Patty's honor. I want her to get acquainted with the boys and girls, and that's as good a way as any. And if we could have it on Saturday afternoon, perhaps father could take a half-holiday and go with us."

"That's a fine idea," said Aunt Alice; "do you agree, Charlie?"

"Yes," said Mr. Elliott, "I'd like it of all things. Shall we go to
Foster's Woods?"

"Yes," said Marian, "that's the nicest place for a picnic. There's a lovely lake there, Patty, and boats to row about in, and tables for the feast and everything."

"How many shall you invite?" said Uncle Charlie. "I'll engage stages to take us all over."

"I want to go," said Edith. "Mayn't I, mamma?"

"Of course you may," said Mrs. Elliott; "we'll take the whole family, from grandma down to little Gilbert."

"Oh, I can't go," said grandma; "I'm too old for picnics."

"Not a bit," said her son; "if you don't care for staging, I'll send you and Alice and the baby over in the carriage."

And then they all fell to planning the details of the picnic, and Patty secretly contrasted the occasion with similar ones at her other aunts'.

There was no quarreling about arrangements as at Villa Rosa; each deferred politely to the others' opinions, and yet each frankly expressed his or her mind on any subject.

And there was no inattention or forgetfulness as at the Hurly-Burly. Each was appointed to attend to several different things, and Patty felt sure that their promises would all be fulfilled.

"Let's have lots of sandwiches," said Frank; "the last picnic I went to, I didn't have half enough. And can't we have jam in some of them, as well as chicken and ham?"

"Certainly, my boy," said his mother; "I'll see that you have jam sandwiches and ham sandwiches and chicken sandwiches, and plenty of them."

"Those names might be shortened," said Uncle Charlie, meditatively. "The sand is superfluous, anyway. There's no sand in them. Why don't we say jamwiches, hamwiches and chickwiches?"

"Oh, that's much better," cried Marian. "I wonder we never thought of it before. I shall never mention a ham sandwich again. A hamwich is so much nicer."

"And then there are tonguewiches and eggwiches," said Patty, delighted with the new words.

"And jellywiches," said Aunt Alice, laughing. "And now what else do young people eat? Cakes and fruit, I suppose."

"Yes, and little tarts," said Frank; "they're awfully good on a picnic."

"And ice cream," said Marian.

"I'll order the ice cream," said her father, "and I'll bring a big box of candies from New York. Frank, you must see to the hammocks and swings, and games if you want them."

"Yes, sir," said Frank, "I'll take my shuffleboard and ring-toss. And we'll build a fire, and make coffee, shall we mother?"

"Yes, dear; Patty and I will make the coffee," said Aunt Alice with a sidelong smile at her niece.

"Then I know it will be good," said Frank.

Saturday was a beautiful day, clear and bright and not too warm.

Immediately after luncheon four stages went around and gathered up about fifty young people, and a wagon full of provisions for feasting and fun followed them to Foster's Woods.

Patty wore a pretty white frock, which, under Aunt Alice's instruction, she had neatly mended, and Mrs. Elliott's skilful laundress had made clean and crisp.

The Vernondale young people proved to be a merry, jolly crowd, and pretty
Patty soon became a favorite.

Frank and Marian introduced her to everybody and took special care that she should never lack for companions or amusement.

And there was so much to do, and Patty enjoyed it all. She was clever at the games, and owing to her practice at the Hurly-Burly, she could row as well as any boy.

The lake was a beautiful bit of water, and in some parts of it pond-lilies grew in abundance.

The young people gathered a quantity of these, both white and pink, to decorate the supper-table.

Then when the feast was ready, Uncle Charlie called the children together, and they came with a will, for their afternoon out of doors had given them a good appetite for the hamwiches and jamwiches.

After supper was over, it was about seven o'clock, and Uncle Charlie told his young guests that they could ramble round for half an hour, and then they would start on their homeward ride.

The path by the side of the lake was a very pretty one, and Mrs. Elliott and her husband walked along there with little Gilbert between them. The child was getting sleepy and a little wilful; and while Jane, his nurse, was eating her supper, his parents had him in charge.

Soon they heard Frank's voice calling, "Father, won't you please come here a minute and help us get this swing down?"

Mr. Elliott went to help the boys, and Mrs. Elliott and Gilbert sat down on the grassy bank to await his return.

"Mamma," said the child, "shall I pick you some pretty flowers?"

"Yes, baby," said his mother, who was looking at the sunset, and only half listening, "but don't go far away."

"No," said the little fellow, and how it happened, Mrs. Elliott never knew, but seemingly in a moment, Gilbert had climbed into a boat and was afloat alone on the lake. For an instant Mrs. Elliott was too frightened even to scream; and then, she dared not, for the boat was a little, round-bottomed affair, and Gilbert was jumping about in it so excitedly, that if suddenly startled he might upset the boat.

With great presence of mind his mother spoke to him gently.

"Gilbert, dear," she said, "sit down in the middle of the boat, and be quiet until I call papa, will you? There's a good boy."

"I am a good boy," Gilbert called back; "I'm going to get mamma pretty pink pond-flowers."

The boat was drifting farther and farther out, and the child sitting in the bow, rocked it from one side to the other.

"Gilbert," said his mother, sternly, "sit right down in the bottom of the boat. Right in the middle, do you hear? Obey me at once!"

"Yes, mamma," said the boy, and he did as she told him to, but continued to rock the boat, so though the danger was lessened, it was still a frightful scene, and filled the poor mother's heart with terror.

"Charlie, Charlie," she called, and then "Frank," but they could not hear her as they were taking down some hammocks in another part of the grove.

The boat drifted nearer to the pond-lilies, and Mrs. Elliott saw Gilbert lean over the side of the boat.

"Now I'll get them for you, mamma," he called.

Mrs. Elliott could scarcely hear his words, but she saw,—the boat overturn and her darling child fall into the deep lake.