ondering if her money
didn't fly away just to punish her for trying to "show off" before them?
At any rate, she would never, never "show off" again.

CHAPTER VIII.

PATTY'S SUNDAY.

But we must give up hunting for a little while: Sunday has come. Let us
forget that "live dollar" (_perhaps_ it's a dead dollar now), and go to
church with Patty.

When she was "dressed for meeting," she went into the nicely sanded
parlor and stood alone before the looking-glass a minute or two to
admire herself. Look at her! She had on a blue cambric frock, and a blue
cambric jockey, or hat, turned up a little at the sides, and tied under
the chin with a blue ribbon; and on her little brown hands were a pair
of white cotton gloves. Don't laugh, little city folks! This was all
very fine, sixty years ago, in a backwoods town. But look at her feet,
and you _must_ laugh! Her shoes were of the finest red broadcloth, and
Mrs. Lyman had made them herself out of pieces of her own cloak and some
soft leather left in the house by Mr. Piper, the shoemaker. He went from
family to family, making shoes; but he could not make all that were
needed in town, so this was not the first time Mrs. Lyman had tried her
hand at the business. She used a pretty last and real shoemaker's
thread, and Mr. Piper said she was "a dabster at it; no wonder her
husband was well off when he had such a smart wife."

For, strange as it may seem to you, Squire Lyman _was_ "well off,"--that
is, he had one of the best farms in the county, and more money than any
one else in Perseverance, except Mr. Chase and Dr. Potter; those two
men were much wealthier than he was.

All the Lymans walked to church except the squire and his wife and the
two little boys; they went in the chaise. Dr. Potter rode horseback,
with a great show of silk stockings. His wife was propped up behind him
on a pillion. She was a graceful rider, but of course she had to put one
arm around the doctor to keep from falling off. This would be an odd
sight now to you or me, but Patty was so used to seeing ladies riding on
pillions that she thought nothing about it. She looked down at her red
shoes twinkling in and out of the green grass, and might have been
perfectly happy, only the soles wouldn't squeak.

"Patty! Patty!" called sister Mary, "come back here and walk with me."

Patty did not know till then that she was _hopping_. She went and took
Mary's hand, and walked soberly along, thinking.

"I