and I don’t intend to try. But I can do something to help. I know I can. That’s where people show their lack of a sense of proportion. I know I can’t do anything for the world, as a world, but if I can help in a few individual cases, that will be my share. For instance, if I can help this Christine Farley to an art education, and so to a successful career, why that’s so much to the good. And though father has set me a hard task to bring it about, I’m going to do it yet.”
“Your father wouldn’t have set you such a task if you hadn’t declared it was no task at all! You said you could earn your living easily in a dozen different ways. Already you’ve discarded two.”
“That leaves me ten!” said Patty, airily. “Ten ways of earning a living is a fair show. I can discard nine more and still have a chance.”
“All right, Patsy. I’m glad you’re not disheartened. And I suppose you are learning something of the conditions of our social economy.”
“Gracious, Nan! How you do talk! Are you quite sure you know what you mean?”
“No, but I thought you would,” said Nan, and with that parting shot, she left the room.
It was late in the afternoon before Patty dawdled downstairs.
Her shoulders and the back of her neck still ached, but otherwise she felt all right again, and her spirits had risen proportionately.
About four o’clock Kenneth called, bringing a mysterious burden, which he carried with great care.
He knew of Patty’s scheme, and though he appreciated the nobility of her endeavour, he could not feel very sanguine hopes of her success.
“You’re not cut out for a wage-earner, Patty,” he had said to her; “it’s like a butterfly making bread.”
“But I don’t want to be a butterfly,” Patty had pouted.
“Oh, I don’t mean butterfly,—as so many people do,—to represent a frivolous, useless person. I have a great respect for butterflies, myself. And you radiate the same effect of joy, happiness, gladness, and beauty, as a butterfly does when hovering around in the golden sunshine of a summer day.”
“Why, Ken, I didn’t know you were a poet. But you haven’t proved your case.”
“Yes, I have. It’s your mission in life to be happy, and so to make others happy. This you can do without definite effort, so stick to your calling, and let the more prosaic people, the plodders,—earn wages.”
“Let me earn the wages of my country, and I care not who makes it smile,” Patty had rejoined, and there the subject had dropped.
To-day, when he arrived, carrying what was evidently something fragile, Patty greeted him gaily.
“I’m not working to-day,” she said; “so you can stay ’most an hour if you like.”
“Well, I will; and if you’ll wait till I set down this precious burden, I’ll shake hands with you. I come, like the Greeks, bearing gifts.”
“A gift? Oh, what is it? I’m crazy to see it.”
“Well, it’s a gift; but, incidentally, it’s a plan for wage-earning. If you really want to wage-earn, you may as well do it in an interesting way.”
“Yes,” said Patty, demurely, for she well knew he was up to some sort of foolery. “My attempts so far, though absorbing, were not really interesting.”
“Well, this is!” declared Kenneth, who was carefully taking the tissue papers from his gift, which proved to be a glass globe, containing two goldfish.
“They are Darby and Juliet,” he remarked, as he looked anxiously into the bowl. “I am so tired of hackneyed pairs of names, that I’ve varied these. But, won’t you send for some more water? I had to bring them with only a little, for fear I’d spill it, and they seem to have drunk it nearly all up.”
“Nonsense! they don’t drink the water; they only swim in it.”
“That’s the trouble. There isn’t enough for them to swim in. And yet there’s too much for them to drink.”
Patty rang for Jane, who then brought them a pitcher of ice water.
Kenneth poured it in, but at the sudden cold deluge, Darby and Juliet began to behave in an extraordinary manner. They flew madly round and round the bowl, hitting each other, and breathing in gasps.
“The water’s too cold,” cried Patty.
“Of course it is,” said Kenneth; “get some hot water, won’t you?”
Patty ran herself for the hot water, and returned with a pitcher full.
“Don’t you want a little mustard?” she said, giggling. “I know they’ve taken cold. A hot mustard foot-bath is fine for colds.”
“And that is very odd, because they haven’t any feet,” quoted Kenneth, as he poured the hot water in very slowly.
“Do you want a bath thermometer?” went on Patty.
“No; when they stop wriggling it’s warm enough. There, now they’re all right.”
Kenneth set down the hot water pitcher and looked with pride on the two fish, who had certainly stopped wriggling.
“They’re awful quiet,” said Patty. “Are you sure they’re all right? I think you’ve boiled them.”
“Nothing of the sort. They like warmth, only it makes them sort of——”
“Dormant,” suggested Patty.
“Yes, clever child, dormant. And now while they sleep, I’ll tell you my plan. You see, these are extra intelligent goldfish,—especially Juliet, the one with a black spot on her shoulder. Well, you’ve only to train them a bit, and then give exhibitions of your trained goldfish! You’ve no idea what a hit it will make.”
“Kenneth, you’re a genius!” cried Patty, meeting his fun halfway. “It’s lots easier than white work. Come on, help me train them, won’t you? How do we begin?”
“They’re still sleepy,” said Kenneth, looking at the inert fish. “They need stirring up.”
“I’ll get a spoon,” said Patty, promptly.
“No, just waggle the water with your finger. They’ll come up.”
Patty waggled the water with her finger, but Darby only blinked at her, while Juliet flounced petulantly.
“She’s high-strung,” observed Kenneth, “and a trifle bad-tempered. But she won’t stand scolding. Let’s take her out and pet her a little.”
“How do you get her out? With a hook and line?”
“No, silly! You must be kind to them. Here, puss, puss, puss! Come, Jooly-ooly-et! Come!”
But Juliet haughtily ignored the invitation and huddled in the bottom of the bowl.
“Try this,” said Patty, running to the dining-room, and returning with a silver fish server.
This worked beautifully, and Kenneth scooped up Juliet, who lay quietly on the broad silver blade, blinking at them reproachfully.
“She’s hungry, Ken; see how she opens and shuts her mouth.”
“No; she’s trying to talk. I told you she was clever. I daresay you can teach her to sing. She looks just as you do when you take a high note.”
“You horrid boy! But she does, really. Anyway, let’s feed them. What do they eat?”
“I brought their food with me; it’s some patent stuff, very well advertised. Here, Julie!”
Gently slipping