"Oh! my dear, my dear!" sighed Waitstill, with a half-sob in her
voice. "If only I was wise enough to know how we could keep from
these little deceits, yet have any liberty or comfort in life!"

"We can't! The Lord couldn't expect us to bear all that we bear,"
exclaimed Patty, "without our trying once in a while to have a
good time in our own way. We never do a thing that we are ashamed
of, or that other girls don't do every day in the week; only our
pleasures always have to be taken behind father's back. It's only
me that's ever wrong, anyway, for you are always an angel. It's a
burning shame and you only twenty-one yourself. I'll pierce your
ears if you say so, and let you wear your own coral drops!"

"No, Patty; I've outgrown those longings years ago. When your
mother died and left father and you and the house to me, my
girlhood died, too, though I was only thirteen."

"It was only your inside girlhood that died," insisted Patty
stoutly, "The outside is as fresh as the paint on Uncle Barty's
new ell. You've got the loveliest eyes and hair in Riverboro, and
you know it; besides, Ivory Boynton would tell you so if you
didn't. Come and bore my ears, there's a darling!"

"Ivory Boynton never speaks a word of my looks, nor a word that
father and all the world mightn't hear." And Waitstill flushed.

"Then it's because he's shy and silent and has so many troubles
of his own that he doesn't dare say anything. When my hair is
once up and the coral pendants are swinging in my ears, I shall