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Patricia by Emilia [pseud.] Elliott
page 15 of 83 (18%)
since old Sampson died--"

Patricia beamed. "Then you will take him? And you won't mind if he's
rather--lively? You see, he's so very young. Maybe, I'd better tell you
everything." And sitting down on one end of the workbench, Patricia made
full confession of her charge's misdoings. "But I think he's sorry," she
ended, hopefully.

"Sure, Miss," Carr assented; "especially as to the custard--that there
wasn't more. What's his name, Miss?"

"I don't know. I've called him just Dog."

"I reckon he won't care what he's called, so long as you don't call him
too late for dinner," Carr remarked. "How about Custard? It'd keep his
sin afore him." He took a piece of rope from the floor. "I'd best tie
him for a bit at first."

It was half-past four when Patricia reached home. Sarah was upstairs and
Aunt Julia busy with callers.

Making a hasty raid on the pantry, Patricia slipped quietly up the back
way to her own room. Aunt Julia had said it must be bed; and there was
no particular use in waiting to be sent.

She was just getting into bed, after a hurried bath, when Miss Kirby,
having learned from certain unmistakable evidence that Patricia had
returned, came upstairs.

"Patricia!" she exclaimed, her voice expressing almost as much relief as
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