"Father has no real cause that I ever heard of; but some dogs
never know when they've had enough beating, nor some people
either." said Waitstill, speaking from the pantry.

"Don't be gloomy when it's my birthday, Sis!--Now he's opened the
door and kicked the cat! All is ready for business at the Baxter
store."

"I wish you weren't quite so free with your tongue, Patty."

"Somebody must talk," retorted the girl, jumping down from the
chair and shaking back her mop of red-gold curls. "I'll put this
hateful, childish, round comb in and out just once more, then it
will disappear forever. This very after-noon up goes my hair!"

"You know it will be of no use unless you braid it very plainly
and neatly. Father will take notice and make you smooth it down."

"Father hasn't looked me square in the face for years; besides,
my hair won't braid, and nothing can make it quite plain and
neat, thank goodness! Let us be thankful for small mercies, as
Jed Morrill said when the lightning struck his mother-in-law and
skipped his wife."

"Patty, I will not permit you to repeat those tavern stories;
they are not seemly on the lips of a girl!" And Waitstill came
out of the pantry with a shadow of disapproval in her eyes and in
her voice.

Patty flung her arms round her sister tempestuously, and pulled