said, pointing proudly to a very conspicuous patch
on the elbow of one sleeve. An older seamstress would have felt,
perhaps, that the patch asserted its existence almost too defiantly;
it seemed almost to vaunt itself, but conscious of the rectitude of my
intentions, if not of my work, I raised my face, expectantly, awaiting
the praise that I felt to be my due. I was not disappointed. Father
held the garment up to the light and examined the mending with
critical approval.

"That's what I call a good job, my little girl," he said heartily, but
Jessie, glancing at the proof of my housewifely skill, as evidenced by
the coat, laughed.

"'A tear may be the accident of a moment,'" she quoted, "'but a patch
is premeditated poverty.' And such a patch! You could see it a mile
away. Really, Leslie, it looks like Jeremiah Porlock's cattle brand."

I felt my face crimsoning with indignation, but was happily prevented
from making the retort that sprang to my lips, as father murmured
ruefully:

"Dear, dear, what a pity that Joe left the spade! It will just about
spoil my whole forenoon to be obliged to stop and bring it down.
However, there's no help for it."

"Yes, there is, papa," I cried, springing to my feet. "I'll go up with
you and bring it back."

It was characteristic of father's gentleness toward us his motherless
young daughters, that he had not once thought of the possibility of
either of us acting, in this instance, as his substitute.

"It's a long walk," he objected, looking at me doubtfully.

"Long! Why, papa, I've taken longer walks than that, lots of times. It
isn't above a mile and a half; I could run every step of the way!"

"Me, too," proclaimed Ralph, descending from his high chair in such
haste that he fell sprawling on the floor. Disdaining, on this
occasion, to weep for an accident that, under ordinary circumstances,
would have opened the flood-gates of woe, he scrambled to his feet:
"Me do wiv 'oo, 'Essie!" A battered old hat of Joe's was hanging on
the wall, within reach of his chubby hand; he snatched it down and set
it quickly on his head, pulling down the wide brim until his brown
curls and the upper part of his rosy little face were completely
extinguished. "Me ready, 'Essie," he said. He was a comical little
figure. Papa took him in his arms and kissed him. Then he set him
gently on his feet again; "You can't go with sister to-day, my boy."

"'Ess," Ralph declared, with unusual persistence, "