can't expect to be like one of us," Ella once said to a young friend—and Patty heard her.
"Only a servant.... " That was the hard part, and it never occurred to anyone to make it softer, so Patty plodded on, still hoping and dreaming about friends and fortune.
Had it not been for Aunt Jane, the child might not have gotten on at all. But Miss Murray never forgot her, even though she lived twenty miles away and seldom came to the farm. She wrote once a month and never failed to include a little note to Patty, which she fully expected would be answered.
Patty wrote a neat reply, which was very stiff and short at first. But after a time, she quite poured out her heart to this one friend who sent her encouraging words, cheered her with praise now and then, and made her anxious to be all Miss Jane seemed to expect. No one in the house took much notice of this correspondence, for Aunt Jane was considered "odd," and Patty posted her replies with the stamps her friend provided. This was Patty's anchor in her little sea of troubles, and she clung to it, hoping for the day when she had earned such a beautiful reward that she would be allowed to go and live with Miss Murray.
Christmas was coming, and the family was filled with great anticipation; for they intended to spend the day at Aunt Jane's and bring her home for dinner and a dance the next day. For a week beforehand, Mrs. Murray flew 'round with more than her accustomed speed, and Patty trotted about from morning till night, lending a hand to all the most disagreeable jobs. Ella did the light, pretty work, and spent much time fussing over her new dress and the gifts she was making for the boys.
When everything was done at last, Mrs. Murray declared that she would drop if she had another thing to do but go to Jane's and rest.
Patty had lived on the hope of going with them, but nothing was said about it. At last, they all trooped gaily away to the station, leaving her to take care of the house and see that the cat did not touch one of the dozen pies carefully stored in the pantry.
Patty kept up bravely until they were gone, then she sat down like Cinderella, and cried and cried until she could cry no more. It certainly did seem as if she were never to have any fun, and no fairy godmother came to help her. The shower of tears did her good, and she went about her work with a meek, patient face that would have touched a heart of stone.
All the morning she worked to finish the odd jobs left for her to do, and in the afternoon, as the only approach to the holiday she dared venture, Patty sat at the parlor window and watched other people go to and fro, intent on merrymaking in which she had no part.
Her only pleasant little task was that of arranging gifts for the small boys. Miss Jane had given her a bit of money now and then, and out of her meager store, the loving child had made presents for the lads—poor ones certainly, but full of goodwill and the desire to win some affection in return.
The family did not return as early as she had expected, which made the evening seem very long. Patty got out her treasure box and, sitting on the warm kitchen hearth, tried to amuse herself while the wind howled outside and the snow fell fast.
When Aunt Jane welcomed the family, her first word, as she emerged from a chaos of small boys' arms and legs, was "Why, where is Patty?"
"At home, of course; where else would she be?" answered Mrs. Murray.
"Here with you. I said 'all come' in my letter; didn't you understand it?"
"Goodness, Jane, you didn't mean to bring her, too, I hope."
"Yes, I did, and I'm quite disappointed. I'd go and get her myself if I had the time."
Miss Jane knit her brows and looked vexed, and Ella laughed at the idea of a servant girl going on holiday with the family.
"It can't be helped now, so we'll say no more and make it up to Patty tomorrow if we can." Aunt Jane smiled her own pleasant smile and kissed the little lads all 'round as if to sweeten her temper as soon as possible.
They had a capital time, and no one observed that Aunty, now and then, directed the conversation to Patty by asking a question about her or picking up on every little hint dropped by the boys concerning her patience and kindness.
At last, Mrs. Murray said, as she sat resting with a cushion at her back, a stool at her feet, and a cup of tea steaming deliciously under her nose, "Afraid to leave her there in charge? Oh, dear, no. I've entire confidence in her, and she is equal to taking care of the house for a week if need be. On the whole, Jane, I consider her a pretty promising girl. She isn't very quick, but she is faithful, steady, and honest as daylight."
"High praise from you, Maria; I hope she knows your good opinion of her."
"No, indeed! It wouldn't do to pamper a girl's pride by praising her. I say, 'Very well, Patty' when I'm satisfied, and that's quite enough."
"Ah, but you wouldn't be satisfied if George only said, 'Very well, Maria' when you had done your very best to please him in some way."
"That's a different thing," began Mrs. Murray, but Miss Jane shook her head, and Ella said, laughing—
"It's no use to try to convince Aunty on that point; she has taken a fancy to Pat and won't see any fault in her. She's a good enough child, but I can't get anything out of her; she is so odd and shy."
"I can! She's first rate and takes care of me better than anyone else," said Harry, the lame boy, with sudden warmth. Patty had quite won his selfish little heart by many services.
"She'll make Mother a nice helper as she grows up, and I consider it a good speculation. In four years, she'll be eighteen, and if she goes on doing so well, I won't begrudge her wages," added Mr. Murray, who sat nearby with a small son on each knee.
"She'd be quite pretty if she were straight and plump and jolly. But she is as sober as a deacon, and when her work is done, she sits in a corner watching us with big eyes as shy and mute as a mouse," said Ned, the big brother, lounging on the sofa.
"A dull, steady-going girl, suited for a servant and no more," concluded Mrs. Murray, setting down her cup as if the subject were closed.
"You are quite mistaken, and I'll prove it!" Aunt Jane announced, jumping up so energetically that the boys laughed and the elders looked annoyed. Pulling out a portfolio, Aunt Jane untied a little bundle of letters, saying impressively—
"Now listen, all of you, and see what has been going on with Patty this year."
Then Miss Jane read the little letters one by one, and it was curious to see how the faces of the listeners first grew attentive, then touched, then self-reproachful, and finally filled with interest and respect and something very like affection for little Patty.
These letters were pathetic, as Aunty read them to listeners who could supply much that the writer generously left unsaid, and the involuntary comments of the hearers proved the truth of Patty's words.
"Does she envy me because I'm pretty and gay and have a good time? I never thought how hard it must be for her to see me have all the fun and she all the work. She's a girl like me, and I might have done more for her than give her my old clothes and let her help me get dressed for parties," said Ella hastily as Aunt Jane laid aside one letter in which poor Patty told of many "good times and she not in 'em."
"Sakes alive! If I'd known the child wanted me to kiss her now and then as I do the rest, I'd have done it in a minute!" said Mrs. Murray, with sudden softness in her sharp eyes as Aunt Jane read this little bit—
"I am grateful, but, oh! I'm so lonely, and it's so hard not to have any mother like the other children. If Mrs. Murray would only kiss me good night sometimes, it would do me more good than pretty clothes or nice food."
"I've been thinking I'd let her go to school ever since I heard her showing Bob how to do his lessons. But Mother didn't think she could spare her," broke in Mr. Murray apologetically.
"If Ella would help a little, I guess I could allow it. Anyway, we might try for awhile, since she is so eager to learn," added his wife, anxious not to seem unjust in Jane's eyes.
"Well, Joe laughed at her as much as I did when the boys