et, while in between came harum-scarum Milly, boisterous
Robin and Wilfred, coaxing, bewitching little Kitty, and round-faced,
stolid, three-year-old Rowland, whose name was generally corrupted to
Roly-Poly, because it seemed so exactly to suit him.

It had never occurred to Patty that life could ever be very much
different from what she was accustomed to. She had seldom been away from
Kirkstone, only for short visits to relations or a seaside holiday, and
all her horizon was bounded by her home. She went to a day school, where
she was one of the elder girls, and felt obliged, even in the midst of
her lessons, to keep an eye on Milly's behaviour, and to consider
herself responsible for the good conduct of Robin, Wilfred, and Kitty,
who were also Miss Dawson's pupils. It was quite anxious work for her to
get them off in time in the mornings; to ensure that they did not leave
their books at home, or forget their macintoshes on showery days, or
lose their slates and pencils; to help to lace their boots, and put on
their hats neatly; to make Milly and Kitty wear their gloves, and
prevent Robin and Wilfred from filling their pockets with nut shells,
stones, frogs, or other unsuitable articles which were apt to stray out
in class and call down the vials of the mistress's wrath upon their
heads. She saw that they learnt their home lessons, did their sums,
practised their due portions upon the piano: and it took up so much of
her own time, that she had to work hard to get in even the moderate
amount of preparation that was deemed necessary at Miss Dawson's. It had
meant a very great change, therefore, when her uncle had written
offering to send Patty to Morton Priory with her cousin Muriel. It would
have been quite impossible for Dr. Hirst, burdened as he was with a
large family and a not too ample income, to place any of his children at
expensive boarding schools. Basil, indeed, went by train daily to
Winborough, ten miles off, where there was an excellent boys' college;
but no better teaching than Miss Dawson could give seemed in store for
Patty, until this sudden good fortune had been thrust upon her. Mr.
Pearson, her uncle, was a wealthy man, who had only one daughter. It had
occurred to him that it would be nice for the two girls to spend their
schooldays together, and he had generously undertaken the full charges
of his niece's education, declaring she should have exactly the same
advantages as her cousin. He had been fond