or she sometimes thought it
was of no use to talk to Patty. I wish she could have known that years
afterwards the dancing child would be comforted in many a trouble by
these cheery words, "People don't work and wait for nothing, daughter."
For you see it all came back to Patty when she was a woman. She saw a
picture of her good mother dipping candles, with a steady, sober look on
her face; and that picture always did her good.

I wonder if the little folks, even in these days, don't hear and heed
more than they appear to? If so, their mammas ought to believe it, and
take courage.

"Mother, why do you pour hot water into that kettle? Won't water _put
out_ candles?"

"Perhaps not; perhaps it will make the tallow rise to the top," said
Mrs. Lyman, laughing.

"O, so it does. Isn't it _such_ fun to dip candles? They grow as fast as
you can wink. Mayn't I dip, please, mamma?"

"Who was it," replied Mrs. Lyman, with a quiet smile, "that said, 'I'd
let 'em alone, and not try?'"

"O, but, mamma, that was when they didn't grow, you know."

"Well, dear, I'll let you dip in a rod by and by; I can't stop now."

Patty waited, but the "by and by" did not come. Mrs. Lyman seemed to
have forgotten her promise; and about eight o'clock had to leave the
candles a few minutes to give Dorcas some advice about the fitting of a
dress. Dorcas was to take her mother's place; but just as she started
for the kitchen, there was an outcry from Mary, who had cut her finger,
and wanted it bound up.

"It's my by-and-by _now_," thought little Patty.

There was not a soul in the kitchen to attend to those candles. Deary
me, and the tallow growing so cold! Wasn't it Patty's duty to help?

Of course it was; and seating her little self with much dignity in the
chair from which her mother had just risen, and propping her feet on the
round, she took up the business where it was left off. It seemed the
easiest thing in the world to flash those round white candles into the
kettle and out again; but they were a great deal heavier than she had
supposed. After she had dipped two or three rods her arm felt very
tired. How could mamma do it so fast, without stopping one bit?

A bright thought seized Patty, as bright as all those dozen-dozen
candles burning in a row.

"Guess I'll dip 'em slow; then there'll be more tallow stick on."

Strange mamma hadn't thought of that herself; but mammas can't think of
everything, they have so much to do. Patty swa