Patty's Success

“’Deed I will!” said Patty, and in a few moments she too was sewing, as deftly, if not quite so rapidly, as Clementine.

“You see, Clem,” she went on, “I’ve been so busy ever since I came home, that I simply forgot the poor people. And now it’s too late.”

“It’s too late to make things,” agreed Clementine, “but not too late to buy them.”

“But I’ve spent all my Christmas money,” said Patty, contritely. “Father gives me a liberal allowance, and then extra, for Christmas money. And it’s just about all gone, and I hate to ask him for more.”

“Well, never mind, Patsy, you can make up for it next year. And if you help me dress these dolls, that will square up your conscience.”

“No, it won’t. But I’ll find a way to do something, somehow. Are these Sunshine people all babies?”

“Oh, no; the society helps all sorts of poor people, children and grown-ups too. Mother is one of the directors, and we do a lot of this doll-dressing every year.”

“Well, I’ll help you a while this afternoon, but I won’t have another chance. You see just about every moment is taken up from now till Christmas.”

“You’re going to the Farringtons’, aren’t you?”

“Yes, for three or four days, while Nan and father are in Philadelphia at Nan’s mother’s. You’re coming to the Christmas Eve dance, of course?”

“Yes, indeed. It’s to be a lovely party. The Farringtons always have such beautiful entertainments. Now, Patty, do tell me about your trip.”

So Patty told many tales of her stay in Paris and in England, and of her pleasure trip through Italy, and as she talked, her fingers flew, and she had soon completed three doll dresses, that were quite as pretty and well-made as Clementine’s.

“Now, I must go,” she said, at last. “I’m glad to have been of a little help, and next year I’ll help you a lot. Though, I suppose your Sunshine Babies could have dolls when it isn’t Christmas.”

“Oh, yes; these are for their Tree, you know.”

“Well, Clem, if I should have some money left me unexpectedly, is it too late to buy some toys for the Tree?”

“I don’t know,” said Clementine, “but we can ask mother. She’ll know.”

They found Mrs. Morse in her sitting-room, tying up parcels and addressing them.

Patty soon discovered that these were all charitable gifts, and not presents to Mrs. Morse’s own friends.

“I’m so glad I came here to-day,” she said, after the welcoming greetings were over, “for it has roused my charitable instincts. I am quite sure, Mrs. Morse, I can send some toys for your society’s tree, if you want them.”

“Want them? Indeed we do! Why, Patty, there are forty little boys who want drums or trumpets and we can only give them candy and an orange. It’s harder than you’d think to get subscriptions to our funds at Christmas time, and though we’ve dolls enough, we do so want toys for the boys.”

“Well, I’ll send you some, Mrs. Morse. I’ll send them to-morrow. Do you care what they are?”

“No, indeed. Drums, or balls, or tin carts,—anything that a boy-child can play with.”

“Well, you may depend on me for the forty,” said Patty, smiling, for she had formed a sudden, secret resolve.

“Why, Patty, dear, how kind of you! I am so glad, for those children were on my mind, and I’ve already asked every one I know to give to our fund. You are a generous little girl, and I know it will gladden your own heart as well as the children’s.”

Patty ran away, and all the way home her heart was full of her project.

“If he will only consent,” she thought. “If not, I don’t know how I shall keep my promise. Oh, well, I know I can coax him to say yes.”

After dinner that evening, Patty put her plan into action.

“Father Fairfield,” she said, “what are you going to give me for a Christmas gift?”

“Well, Pattykins, that’s not considered a correct question in polite society.”

“Then let’s be impolite, just for this once. Do tell me, daddy.”

“You embarrass me exceedingly, young lady,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling at her, “for, to tell you the truth, I haven’t bought you anything.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Patty, “for, father, I want to ask you a great favour. Won’t you give me the money instead, and let me spend it as I like?”

“That would be a funny Christmas gift. I thought you liked some pretty trinket, tied up in holly paper and red ribbons and Santa Claus seals, and served to you on a silver salver.”

“Well, I do, from other people. But from you, I just want the money that my present would cost, and—I want it now!”

“Bless my soul! She wants it now! Why, Patsy, what are you going to do? Buy stock?”

“No, but I do want it, father. Won’t you give it to me, and I’ll tell you afterward what I’m going to do with it.”

“I’ll tell you now,” said Nan, smiling at the pair. “She’s going to put it in the bank, because she’s afraid she’ll be poor some day.”

“I don’t wonder you think that, stepmothery,” said Patty, her eyes twinkling at Nan, “for I did tell you so. But since then I’ve changed my mind, and though I want my present from father in cash, I’m going to spend it before Christmas, and not put it in the bank at all.”

“Well, you are a weathercock, Patty. But before morning you will have changed your mind again!”

“No, indeedy! It’s made up to stay this time. So give me the money like a duck of a daddy, won’t you?”

Patty was very wheedlesome, as she caressed her father’s cheek, and smiled into his eyes.

“Well, as you don’t often make a serious request, and as you seem to be in dead earnest this time, I rather think I shall have to say yes.”

“Oh, you dear, good, lovely father!” cried Patty, embracing him. “Will you give it to me now, and how much will it be?”

“Patty,” said Nan, laughing, “you’re positively sordid! I never saw you so greedy for money before.”

Patty laughed outright. Now that she had gained her point she felt in gay spirits.

“Friends,” she said, “you see before you a pauper,—a penniless pauper! Therefore, and because of which, and by reason of the fact that I am in immediate need of money, I stoop to this means of obtaining it, and, as aforesaid, I’d like it now!”

She held out her rosy palm to her father, and stood waiting expectantly.

“Only one hand!” exclaimed Mr. Fairfield, in surprise. “I thought such a grasping young woman would expect both hands filled.”

“All right,” said Patty, and she promptly extended her other palm, too.

Putting both his hands in his pockets, Mr. Fairfield drew them out again, and then laid a ten-dollar goldpiece on each of Patty’s outstretched palms.