hing, Dorcas and Rachael were making dresses,
and the dinner must be put on the table. No wonder tired Mrs. Lyman was
sorry to see Patty come home crying, or that she laid her pale, tired
face against Solly's cheek when Patty whined, "Mayn't I work a sambler?"
and said, in a low tone, as if she were breathing a prayer,--

"Let patience have her perfect work."

Patty had often heard her poor, overburdened mother make that same
remark, but had never understood it before. Now she thought it meant,
"Let my daughter Patience have a sambler to work;" and she cleared the
clouds off her little face, and went dancing out to see the new
goslings. Mary, who was thoughtful beyond her years, coaxed Solly into
her arms, and soothed him with a little story, so that her mother could
go and take up the dinner.

Patty found out next day that she was not to have a sampler; but to
console her Mary hemmed a large piece of tow and linen cloth, and told
her she might learn to work on it with colored thread. It was a funny
looking thing after Patty had scrawled it all over with Greek and
Hebrew; but it was a wonderful help to the child's feelings.

She was a great pet at school, and grew quite fond of going; but she
tells Flyaway she does not remember much more that happened, after she
began that sampler, until the next spring. At that time she was a trifle
more than four years old.

CHAPTER III.

THE BROKEN BRIDGE.

It was early in April, and the travelling was very bad, for the frost
was just coming out of the ground. Mary, Moses, and the twins attended a
private school, on the other side of the river, and Patty went with
them; but they were all rather tired of her company.

"Mother, we're afraid she'll get lost in one of the holes," said Moses.
"Won't you make her stay at home?"

Mrs. Lyman stood before the brick oven, taking out of it some blackened
cobs which had been used for smoking hams, and putting them into a dish
of water.

"What are you doing with those cobs?" asked Moses, while Patty caught at
her mother's skirts, saying,--

"I won't lose me in a hole, mamma! Mayn't I go to school?"

"I will tell you what I am doing with the cobs, Moses," said Mrs. Lyman;
"making pearlash water. I shall soak them a while, and then pour off the
water into bottles. Cob-coals make the very best of pearlash."

How queer that seems to us! Why didn't Mrs. Lyman send to the store and
buy soda? Because in those days there was no su