at the strip of pink leg showing through the long
jagged tear in one of his small mistress's tan stockings.

Patricia scrambled to her feet and began taking stock. There was another
tear in the short skirt of her blue gingham frock, and one in one of the
sleeves.

"Goodness! What will Aunt Julia say!" Patricia said ruefully; then
remembered suddenly what Aunt Julia had said, no longer ago than
yesterday morning, after a similar catastrophe.

"And if Aunt Julia isn't a 'Mede 'n' Persian,' she might almost as well
be one--when it comes to unsaying things," Patricia told herself, as she
started for the house.

Half-way up the back garden path, she came to an abrupt halt. "Custard,"
she gasped, "it's party day!"

As if Custard did not know that! He had never been to a party, but he
was mighty glad to have been invited to this one. The pantry, always an
enchanted spot to him, smelled even more delicious than usual. He had
quite lost count of the number of times that Sarah had run him out of it
this morning, with more haste than dignity.

Patricia sat down in an empty wheelbarrow to consider matters, not
noticing that Jim had been using it that morning to bring fresh mold
for Miss Kirby's flower beds.

"I didn't want to give a party anyhow." Patricia stared gravely out
across the sunny drying-ground. Privately, she considered the average
party a great waste of valuable time. Least of all had she wanted to
give an "honor party" for Susy Vail. Susy was the rector's grandchild,
and was on a visit here.

Patricia hadn't much use for Susy Vail. She was a city girl, she was
quiet and shy, and she would be sure to come to the party in a stiff
white dress and blue ribbons. Patricia was positive as to the blue
ribbons.

"I've a good mind to run off to the woods and stay all day, Custard,"
Patricia said, getting up; "they can have the party without us."

Custard barked a prompt disapproval of this scheme. Maybe the party
could do without him, but he was quite sure he could not do without
the party.

"Come on," Patricia told him, starting back down the path.

She had got as far as the gate leading into the meadow, when a new idea
came to her. Swinging slowly back and forth on the gate, she considered
this idea; her gray eyes dancing, as its possibilities opened up before
her mental vision.

"And if Susy Vail hasn't a gingham apron, I'll lend her one; she seems
the sort of girl not to have one," Patricia confided to Cust