er talents; and she had a magic way of making things go smoothly in
the household, and dropping oil on all the little creaking hinges of
life, without anybody quite discovering how it was done. Patty's father
was a busy doctor in the small country town of Kirkstone. He was out
nearly the whole day long, driving about in his high gig to visit people
in distant farms and villages, and had very little time to give to his
own family, so they were obliged to make the most of the few delightful
half-hours he could manage to spare for them now and then. Patty, as his
eldest daughter, held a special place in his heart. She was already
quite a nice companion for him, and I think there was no greater treat
for both than on those occasions when she was able to tuck herself into
the gig by his side, ready to open gates, and hold the reins while he
paid his visits. Patty loved those long drives along the quiet roads.
She did not care whether the weather were wet or fine, hot or cold. It
did not matter in the least if it snowed or hailed, provided her father
was there to talk to, and they could indulge in those confidential chats
that seemed to bring them so near together, and made her feel quite a
little woman instead of only a girl of thirteen. It was not often,
however, that Patty could be absent for the many hours of a doctor's
country round. School and lessons claimed most of her time, and even on
Saturdays she was so useful at home that they found it difficult to
manage without her. Seven younger brothers and sisters all looked to
Patty to settle their quarrels, hem their boat sails, dress their dolls,
kiss their bumps and bruises better, sympathize with their small woes
and troubles, tell them stories, invent new games, and generally take
the lead in all the important matters of the nursery. She was her
mother's right hand, and from the time she was old enough to feel
herself a little older than the rest, she had helped to stitch on
buttons, wash chubby faces, fasten tiny shoes, comb curly heads, keep
small fingers out of mischief and small limbs from danger, and support
the cause of law and order by an emphatic "don't" or "mustn't" when
necessary. Patty often congratulated herself on the fact that she had
taught five babies to walk. She was very proud of the family, beginning
with Basil, who was only a year younger than herself, though not nearly
so capable and reliable, and ending with the fat baby who had not yet
found his fe