ike," thought poor Patty. "After I do one,
the others will be easier."

She flew for her embroidery hoops and work-basket, and began at once on
one of the centrepieces.

The pattern was a floral design, tied with bow-knots and interlaced with
a conventional lattice-work. The shading of the blossoms was complicated,
and showed many shades of each colour. The bow-knots were of a solid
colour, but required close, fine stitches of a tedious nature, while the
lattice-work part seemed to present an interminable task.

Patty was a skilful embroiderer, and realised at her first glance that
she had a fearful amount of work before her.

But as yet she was undismayed, and cheerfully started in on the flowers.

She selected the right silks, cut the skeins neatly, and put them in
thread papers.

"For," she thought, "if I allow my silks to get tangled or mixed up, it
will delay me, of course."

At one o'clock, Nan came to her room.

"Didn't you hear the luncheon gong?" she said.

"No," replied Patty, looking up. "Is it one o'clock already?"

"For goodness', gracious' sake, Patty! What _are_ you doing? Is _that_
your 'occupation'?"

"Yes," said Patty, proudly displaying a wild rose, beautifully worked,
and carefully tinted. "Don't I do it nicely?"

"Indeed you do! Your embroidery is always exquisite. But are you going to
work that whole centrepiece?"

"No, only a section,--see, just this much."

Patty indicated the portion she was to work, but she didn't say that she
had thirty-five more, carefully laid away in a box, to do within the
week.

"Well," agreed Nan, "that's not such a terrific task. But will they give
you fifteen dollars for that piece?"

"No," said Patty, smiling a little grimly; "but there are others."

"Oho! A lot of them! A dozen, I suppose. They always give out work by
dozens. Well, girlie, I don't want to be discouraging, but you can't do a
dozen in a week. Come on down to luncheon."

At the table, Patty gave Nan a graphic description of her morning's
experiences.

Though more or less shocked at the whole performance, Nan couldn't help
laughing at Patty's dramatic recital, and the way in which she mimicked
the various people.

"And yet, Nan," she said, "it's really pathetic; they all seemed so busy
and so tired. The woman who gave me the work was like a machine,--as if
she just fed out centrepieces to people who came for them. I'm sure she
hasn't smiled for fourteen years. The only gay one i