no idea how it looks. After supper Mrs.
Lyman called the children into her bedroom, shut the door, and had them
repeat their lessons, beginning with the question, "Who was the first
man?"

Patty supposed the Catechism was as holy as the Bible, and thought the
rhyme,--

"Zaccheus he
Did climb a tree,
His Lord to see,"

was fine poetry, of course, and she never dreamed of laughing at the
picture of dried-up little Zaccheus standing on the top of a
currant-bush.

Little Solly could answer almost all the questions, and sometimes baby
Benny, who sat in his mamma's lap, would try to do it too. They all
enjoyed these Sunday evenings in "mother's bedroom," for Mrs. Lyman had
a very pleasant way of talking with her children, and telling
interesting Bible stories.

The lesson this evening was on the commandment, "Thou shalt not covet."
When Patty understood what it meant, she said promptly, "Well, mamma,
_I_ don't do it."

For she was thinking,--

"What you s'pose I want of Linda Chase's bosom-pin? I wouldn't be seen
wearing it!"

CHAPTER IX.

MRS. CHASE'S BOTTLE.

You see Patty knew as much about her own little heart as she did about
Choctaw.

One Wednesday morning, early in September, Mrs. Lyman stood before the
kneading trough, with both arms in dough as far as the elbows. In the
farthest corner of the kitchen sat little Patty, pounding mustard-seed
in a mortar.

"Mamma," said she, "Linda Chase has got a calico gown that'll stand
alone."

"I've heard you tell of that before," said Mrs. Lyman, taking out a
quantity of dough with both hands, putting it on a cabbage-leaf, and
patting it into shape like a large ball of butter. A cabbage-leaf was as
good as "a skillet," she thought, for a loaf of brown bread.

"Did you ever see a gown stand all alone, mother? Linda says _hers_
does."

"Poh, it don't!" said Moses. "I know better."

"Then hers told a lie!" exclaimed little Solly. "George Wash'ton never
told a lie."

"Linda tells the truth," said Patty; "now, mamma, why don't _my_ gowns
stand alone?"

"I want to be like George Wash'ton," put in Solly again, pounding with
the rolling-pin, "and papa's got a hatchet; but we don't have no cherry
trees. I _can't_ be like George Wash'ton."

"O, what a noise! Stop it!" said Moses, tickling little Solly under the
arms.

"Mamma, I wish I was as rich as Linda," said Patty, raising her voice
above the din.

A look of pain came into Mrs. Lym