Chapter IV: Part 4

They entered the house and went into the library where a tall, dark-eyed girl was brewing tea. She looked up with a smile and Marian saw that she was a little like Miss Dorothy. "Here she is. Here is Marian," cried Patty.

Emily nodded pleasantly. "Come near the fire," she said. "It is quite wintry out. How good it is to see you, Dolly. I am so glad you are coming home every week."

"Oh, what are those?" said Miss Dorothy as her sister uncovered a plate.

"Your favorite tea cakes, but you mustn't eat too many of them or you will have no appetite for supper. It will be rather late to-night for the boys cannot get back before seven and they begged me to wait for them. I knew you would be hungry, though, and so I had tea, ready for you."

The two little girls, side by side, comfortably sipped some very weak tea and munched their cakes while the older girls chatted. But Patty made short work of her repast. "Hurry up," she whispered to Marian, "I have lots of things to show you and we shall have supper after a while. Is your cough very bad?"

"Not yet."

"They say mine isn't but I hate the whooping part. I hope it won't get worse."

"I'm afraid it will, for we've only begun to whoop and they say it takes a long time to get over it."

"Oh, those old they-says always are telling you something horrid. Come, let me show you the boys' puppies before it gets too dark to see them; they're out in the shed."

"Oh, I'd love to see them." Marian despatched the remainder of her cake and was ready to follow Patty out-of-doors to where five tiny fox terriers were nosing around their little mother. They were duly admired, then Patty showed the pigeons and the one rabbit. By this time it was quite dark, so they returned to the house to see the family of dolls who lived in a pleasant room up-stairs.

"This is where we are to have lessons," Patty told her guest. "Isn't it nice? Those two little tables are to be ours, and Emily will sit in that chair by the window. We arranged it all. These are my books." She dropped on her knees before a row of low book shelves.

"Oh, how many," exclaimed Marian. "I have only a few, and most of those are old-fashioned. Some were my grandparents' and some my father's."

"Doesn't your father ever get you any new ones?"

"He might if he were here," Marian answered, "but you see I don't know him."

"Don't know your father?" Patty looked amazed.

"No. He lives in Germany, and hasn't been home for seven or eight years."

"How queer. Isn't he ever coming?"

"I hope he is. I wrote to him not long ago."

"Why, don't you write to him every little while?"

"No, I haven't been doing it, but I am going to now," she said, then, as a sudden thought struck her, she exclaimed: "Oh, dear, I am afraid I can't."

"Why not?" asked Patty.

"Because I used Miss Dorothy's typewriter at home. I don't write very well with a pen and ink, you know, though I can do better than I did."

"Oh, I expect you do well enough," said Patty consolingly, "and if you don't, dad has a typewriter, and maybe he will let you use that, and if he won't I know Roy will let you write with his. It is only a little one, but it will do."

"I think you are very kind," said Marian. "Is Roy your brother?"

"My second brother; his name is Royal. Frank is the oldest one and Bert the youngest of the three. There are six of us, you know; three girls and three boys. First Dolly and Emily, then the boys and then me."

"I should think it would be lovely to have so many brothers and sisters."

"It is, only sometimes the boys tease, and my sisters think I must always do as they say because they are so much older, and sometimes I want to do as I please."

"But oughtn't you to mind them?"

"Oh, I suppose so. At least when I don't and they tell daddy, he always sides with them, so that means they are right, I suppose."

There was some advantage in not having too many persons to obey, Marian concluded, and when the three boys came storming in, one making grabs at Patty's hair, another clamoring to have her find his books, and the third berating the other two, it did seem to Marian that there were worse things than being the only child in the house.

However, the boys soon subsided, so the two little girls were left in peace and Patty displayed all the wonders in her possession; the delightful little doll house which the boys had made for her the Christmas before, the dolls who inhabited it, five in number, Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Montgomery, their two children and the black cook. "The coachman and nurse have to live in another house, there isn't room for them here," Patty informed Marian. "Which do you like best, hard dolls or paper ones?"

"Sometimes one and sometimes another," returned Marian. "I don't know much about paper dolls, though. Mrs. Hunt gave me some out of an old fashion book, but they got wet, and I haven't any nice ones now."

"Emily makes lovely ones," Patty told her, "and I'll get her to do some for us; I know she will."

"How perfectly lovely," exclaimed Marian, beginning to feel that she had been very lucky when Dame Fortune sent the Robbins family her way.

"There is Emily calling now," said Patty. "I suppose supper is ready and we must go down. I will show you the rest of my things to-morrow. Coming, Emily," she answered as she ran down-stairs.

But it was because Marian's trunk had come that Emily wanted the little girls, and when this was unpacked and Marian felt that she was fairly established supper was announced. It was a plain but well cooked and hearty meal such as suited the appetites of six healthy young persons, three of them growing boys. As she saw the bread and butter disappear, Marian wondered how the cook managed to keep them supplied.

True to her promise Patty asked Emily about the paper dolls that very evening and she smilingly consented to make them two apiece. "Just a father and a mother and a little child," Patty begged her sister.

"Very well," said Emily. "I think I can throw in the child."

"Marian, do you want the child to be a baby?" asked Patty.

"Oh, a tiny baby," said Marian. "If I may have that, I should be delighted."

"You shall have it," promised Emily and straightway fell to work to fill the contract for paper dolls, Marian watching her with a happy face. To see any one actually drawing anything as lovely as these promised to be was a new pleasure, and her ohs and ahs, softly breathed as each was finished, showed her appreciation.

The two little girls took themselves to a corner of the library where they could play undisturbed, making houses of the lower book shelves. "Oh, may we do that?" asked Marian in surprise as she saw Patty stacking the books on the floor.

"Oh, yes," was the answer, "if we put the books back again when we have finished. You take that corner and I'll take this, then we'll have plenty of room."

Such liberties were never allowed Marian at home, and she grew so merry over Patty's funny make-believes that more than once Miss Dorothy and her sister exchanged pleased glances, and once Miss Dorothy murmured: "I'd like her father to see her now. She has been starved for just that sort of cheerful companionship."

"She seems a very nice child," said Emily.

"She is," returned Miss Dorothy. "She has never had a chance to be spoiled."

Bedtime came all too soon, and the books were reluctantly put back on their shelves, the dolls safely stowed away in a large envelope, and Miss Dorothy piloted the way to Patty's pretty little room which she was to share with Marian.

As Miss Dorothy stooped to give the two a good-night kiss, Marian whispered: "I've had such a lovely time. I'd like to live here always. I hope my whooping-cough won't get well for a long time."

_CHAPTER X_

_Running Away_

The days for the most part went happily for the two little girls. They spent much time out-of-doors, lessons taking up only two hours a day. Beside the many outdoor plays which all children love there were others which Patty invented, and these Marian liked best. The two had some disagreements and a few quarrels, for Patty, being the youngest child in her family, was a little spoiled, and liked her own way. She was an independent, venturesome little body, and led Marian into ways she had never tried before. She loved excitement and was always planning something new and unusual.

One morning after the two had raced around the lawn till they were tired, had climbed trees, jumped from the top step many times, gathered chestnuts from the burrs newly opened by the frost, Patty was at her wits' end to know what to do next. "Let's run away," she said suddenly.

"Oh, what for?" said Marian to whom such adventures never suggested themselves.

"Oh, just because; just to do something we haven't done," was the reply.

"But where shall we run?"

"Oh, anywhere. Down there." Patty nodded toward the road which led from the college grounds.

Marian looked dubious. "But where would we stay at night, and where would we get anything to eat?"

"Oh, along the way somewhere."

"We haven't any money to buy food."

"No, but some one would give it to us if we asked."

"Why, then we would be beggars."

Patty nodded. "I've always thought I would like to try what it would be like not to mind your clothes, nor your face and hands. It would be rather fine, don't you think, not to have grown-ups say to you: Be careful of your frock. Don't get your shoes wet. No lady ever has such a face and hands."

"Ye-es," doubtfully from Marian. "Suppose we should get lost and never find our way back."

"We couldn't if we kept a straight road. We might meet a princess in disguise, riding in her carriage and she might take us in with her. I should like to see a real princess."

"My father has seen one."

"I don't believe it."

"He has. Cross my heart. He wrote to grandma about her and said she looked like any one else."

"Then she couldn't have been a real princess," said Patty triumphantly.

"My father doesn't tell stories, I thank you," said Marian indignantly.

"You don't know whether he does or not; you don't know him," retorted Patty.

Marian gave her one look, arose from where she was sitting, and stalked into the house. Patty was at her heels in a moment. "Oh, please don't get mad," she begged.

Marian made no reply for a moment, then she said in a low voice, "I'm not exactly mad, but my feelings hurt me."

Patty was too warm-hearted to let this pass. She flung her arms around her friend's neck. "I was horrid to say that," she said, "when I have a father close by and you haven't any mother."

"Neither have you," returned Marian mollified.

"I know, but I have brothers and sisters, and live with my father. I think, after all, Marian, we won't run away, but we might go down that road a little way and see what it looks like."

"Haven't you ever been there?"

"No, we always go in the other direction." She did not say why, nor did she tell Marian that she had been warned of a rowdy neighborhood in the vicinity of some factories further on. "You see," she continued, "it would be fun to pretend we were running away. We could stay till it gets dark and we began to be afraid."

"Not till it is really dark," Marian improved on the suggestion, "but just till it begins to be."

"Well, yes, that would do. Come on, let us start."

"Don't you think we ought to take some lunch?"

"Well, maybe, though I would rather trust to luck; it would be much more exciting. I think I will take five cents that I have, and then if we don't see any chance of getting something to eat we can buy enough to keep us from getting very, very hungry." So saying, she ran toward the house.

"Bring Patty Wee," called Marian after her.

"All right," answered Patty the Big from the door-step. She came out again directly with the money clasped in her hand, and bearing Patty Wee.

"I suppose we mustn't go near any children," said Marian as they started off, "for we might give them the whooping-cough."

"I'm sure I don't want to go near any," replied Patty independently. "See, the road we are going to take leads right past the chapel and down that hill."

"What are those chimneys sticking up there at the foot of the hill, where all that smoke is coming out?"

"They are the chimneys of the factories."

"What kind of factories?"

"Oh, some kind. I don't know. We can ask when we get home if you would like to know." She hurried Marian past the big factory buildings from which issued the clattering noise of machinery, and from whose chimneys black smoke was pouring. At the foot of the hill there was a little bridge spanning a rapid stream. Further up, the stream was bordered by willows, and a meadow beyond seemed an inviting playground. "Let's go up there," said Marian; "it looks so pleasant."

"We might fish if we had a hook and line," said Patty, bent on some new diversion.

"Oh, do you suppose there are any fish so near the factory?"

"There might be," returned Patty, "but as we haven't anything to catch them with they are perfectly safe."

Marian laughed, then added, "I think I am glad they are, for I don't believe it would make me very happy to see the poor things struggling and gasping."

"Then it is just as well we can't catch them, for I don't want to make you unhappy," said Patty. "See that big tree over there with that flat rock near it? I think it looks as if it would be a nice place to play."

"So it does. I wonder if we can reach it easily."

"I'll go and see. If it is all right I will call you. Just wait here for me."

Marian sat down on the stump of a tree near the bridge to wait. It was pleasant to hear the murmur of the water, and to watch the little eddies and ripples. It was a true Indian summer day, warm and hazy. The squirrels were whisking their tails in the trees near by, and the crows were cawing in a corn field not far off. Marian was enjoying it all very much when Patty called, "Come, Marian, come. I've found something. Come around by the fence and creep under."

Marian obeyed and was soon by Patty's side. "What have you found?"

"Just see here," said Patty excitedly. "Some one has been playing here before us."

Marian stooped down to look where, in a little cave made by the large stone, was a small doll, a table made of a block of wood, some bits of blue china for dishes, a row of acorns for cups, and a bed of green moss. Outside stood a small cart made of a box with spools for wheels.

"Isn't it cunning?" said Patty, appealed to by the unusual. "Now we can play nicely."

"Do you think we ought to touch them?"

"Why not? They are out here where anybody could get them. I shouldn't wonder if some child had been playing here and forgot all about it. There's no telling how long they have been here." This quieted Marian's scruples and they took possession. Patty Wee, as they now called Marian's little doll, just fitted in the cart, so she was brought in state to visit the cave doll, whom Patty called Miggy Wig, neither knew just why.

It was much more interesting to serve grass and acorn kernels from broken bits of china than it was to have a real tea-party in an orderly nursery with real cups and saucers, and the strange doll added to the zest of the play because she was an unknown. The children speculated upon who might be her possible owner, and wondered if she were mourned and missed, or only forgotten. A fat toad, tempted out by the warm sunshine, hopped from under the stone and sat blinking at the children in such a funny way that they laughed so loud as to send him away.

Everything was going on merrily when presently the shrill whistle of the factory announced that it was noon, and pretty soon crowds of men, women, boys and girls trooped down the road toward a group of small houses further along. It was a noisy, jostling crowd and the two children were glad they were not nearer. They cowered down behind the big rock to wait till the factory hands had passed by.

In a few minutes Patty peeped forth. "They've gone," she whispered. "I don't believe they would have noticed us anyhow. Let's play that the fat toad is an enchanted prince, and that Miggy Wig is going to liberate him from his enchantment."

"All right," agreed Marian. "What shall Patty Wee be?"

"If Miggy Wig is the fairy, Patty Wee can be the princess who will wed the prince. Now Miggy Wig and I are going to gather three kinds of herbs to make the charm," said Patty.

Marian was delighted. She had but lately entered the wonderful region of fairy-land, but under Patty's guidance was becoming very familiar with its charms and enchantments.

Patty and Miggy Wig hied forth to gather the three kinds of herbs while Marian kept watch with Patty Wee. It was now so quiet that the toad ventured out again. Patty had dubbed him Prince Puff, a very fitting name the girls agreed. Marian was watching him as he did his funny act of swallowing, shutting his eyes and looking as if he meant to eat his own head, Patty said, when suddenly voices sounded behind her, angry voices.

"Well ain't that cheek?" cried some one.

Marian looked up and saw two shabby looking girls about her own age. She quickly rose to her feet, letting Patty Wee slip to the ground. The other Patty was some distance away.

"What business have you got here?" said the taller of the strange girls, stepping up.

"Why, we're just playing," replied Marian.

"Just playing," mimicked the girl. "Do you hear that, Pearl? Just playing with our things. Ain't that cheek for you? Let's show her what we think of folks that steal our belongings."

"I haven't taken a thing," said Marian indignantly. "I am not a thief."

"Where's my doll, then? Call me a liar, do you?" said the girl fiercely, and stepping still nearer she gave Marian a sounding slap on the cheek.

By this time Patty had seen the newcomers and had hurried up. "Don't you dare touch my friend," she cried. "We're not doing any harm to you and your things."

"Well, you've meddled with them, and you were going to take my doll; you've got it now. Give it to me," and the girl snatched Miggy Wee from Patty's hand. "They meddled, didn't they, Pearl?"

"Yes, they did," chimed in the younger girl. "They meddled, so they did."

"Well, they've got to hustle off pretty quick or I'll set my father's big dog on them. Get out, you thieves," she said to Patty and Marian.

"We are not thieves," replied Patty indignantly.

"What were you doing with my doll, then?"

"I didn't know it was yours. I didn't know it belonged to any one."

"Oh, you didn't," in sarcastic tones. "Perhaps you thought it grew here like that there weed; you look green enough to think that."

Patty clenched her hands and bit her lip to keep from making an answer which she knew would only aggravate matters. She drew herself up and gave the girl a withering look, then she turned to Marian. "Come, let us go," she said.

"Oh, you think you're very grand, don't you," said the girl teasingly. "Well, you're not, and I can tell you we're not going to let you off so easy. You've got to pay for the use of our playhouse. I'll take this in pay," and she grabbed Patty Wee from Marian.

"Oh, no, no," cried Marian in distress, "you can't have my doll."

"I can't, can't I? I'll show you whether I can." And the girl faced Marian so threateningly that she shrank away.

Then Patty thought of a device. "You'd better not come too near us," she cried, "for we've got the whooping-cough," and indeed just then by reason of the excitement she did have a paroxysm of coughing which plainly showed that she spoke truly.

The girl backed away, and as soon as Patty had recovered, she grasped Marian's hand and hurried her away. "Never mind Patty Wee," she said; "I'll get you another just like her. Let's get away as fast as we can."

Marian realized that this was the wiser plan, and they hurried off, their two enemies calling after them mockingly.

Their breathless flight set them both coughing, and when they recovered breath they both walked soberly on without saying a word, their object being to get as far away as possible from the scene of trouble. Up hill and down again they trudged, and presently saw ahead of them a house and garden at the junction of two roads.

"I never saw that place before," said Patty, looking at it with a puzzled air. "I'm sure I don't know where we are."

"Oh, Patty," exclaimed Marian in dismay, "are we lost?"

"Well no, not exactly. We'll stop at that house and ask the way."

As they approached they saw that the front of the house was a small country store, so they went around to the door and opened it. A bell jangled sharply as they entered, and from somewhere in the rear a woman came forward. "What's wanting?" she asked.

"Will you tell us how far we are from Revell?" said Patty. "We want to go there, to the college."

The woman looked at her with some curiosity.

"It's about three miles," she said. "You go up this road and turn to your left about a mile on, just before you come to the factories. You pass by them and keep straight on."

"Thank you," said Patty. Then seeing piles of rosy apples, boxes of crackers, and such eatables, she realized that she was very hungry. "Will you tell me what time it is?" she said.

The woman looked up at a big clock over the door. "It is after two," she said, "about quarter past."

"Oh, dear," Patty looked at Marian, "we can't get back to dinner." Suddenly all the joys of a gypsy life faded away. She looked at the apples, felt in her coat pocket for her five cents, and fortunately found it. "How much are those apples?" she asked.

"Ten cents a quarter peck," the woman told her.

"Oh, I meant how much apiece."

"I guess you can have 'em for a cent apiece. There'll be about ten in a quarter, I expect."

"Then I'll take two." The woman picked out two fine red ones and handed them to her. "I have three cents left," said Patty. "What shall I get, Marian?" Her eyes roved along the shelves.

"That soft mixture's nice," said the woman, "and it's right fresh."

"Can I get three cents' worth?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then I'll take it."

The woman took down a box of mixed cakes and weighed out the necessary amount. Patty gave the five cents and the two little girls left the store.

"I never was so hungry," said Patty, her teeth immediately seeking the apple.

"Nor I," said Marian, following her example. And they trudged along munching the apples till they reached the top of the hill. They could see the factory chimneys in the distance and knew they could find their way, though both dreaded to pass the neighborhood of the rude girls who must live near the factory. They almost held their breath as they approached the spot, but they got by safely, and toiled on toward home, two thoroughly weary, disgusted little girls.

"It wasn't much fun," said Marian plaintively, as they neared the house.

"I shall never, never want to go that way again," said Patty contritely. "We haven't had any real dinner; I've spent my five cents, and you've lost Patty Wee."

At the thought of this last disaster Marian's eyes filled. "Don't feel so," said Patty in distress. "I'll buy you another the very first time I go to the city. I know Dolly will give me five cents."

"But it won't be Patty Wee," said Marian mournfully.

Patty was honest enough to go straight to her sister Emily with the whole story of the morning's trouble. "You knew you were disobedient, didn't you, Patty?" said Emily gently. "Now you see why daddy always forbade your going down that way. He knows those factory people are a rough set."

Patty hung her head. "I know I was as bad as could be, Emily, but I'll never do it again."

"The worst part is that you led Marian into it, for she didn't know, as you did, that you mustn't go that way. You say those girls struck her, and took her doll away from her. I think she had the worst of it, and yet it was all your fault, Patty."

"Oh, dear, oh, dear, I am wickeder than I thought," sobbed Patty. "What can I do, Emily, to make up for it? I will do anything you think I ought. I spent my five cents and I haven't any more to get another Patty Wee."

"If you will go without dessert for a week I will give you five cents to buy another doll. I think you have had punishment enough otherwise, but you can't make up to Marian for having those girls treat her so."

Patty's tears flowed afresh, but she agreed to give up what meant a great deal to her.

However, the five cents did not go toward buying another Patty Wee, for when Patty told her brothers of the morning's adventure, they looked at each other knowingly, and a little later on plotted together in the shed. So a few days after they triumphantly appeared with the lost Patty Wee which they restored to the delighted Marian. They would never tell how they recovered the doll, but Pearl and Evelina have memories of three big determined boys bearing down upon them when they were playing under the big tree, boys who demanded a doll taken by force, and having great respect for manly strength the girls gave up Patty Wee without a word.

_CHAPTER XI_

_A Letter's Reply_

The lovely Indian summer was over, and Thanksgiving Day passed happily. It was a great time for Marian, for Miss Dorothy was home for several days and together they planned the book of photographs to be sent to Marian's father. "I think it would better go in ample time," said Miss Dorothy, "for at Christmas time there will be such budgets going that we must be sure to get ours in before the rush begins. I should give it two or three weeks anyhow, and even if it does get there too soon, that will be better than too late."

"Don't you think it is time I was getting an answer to my letter?" asked Marian.

"It is high time, but perhaps your father has been away, and has not had his mail forwarded."

And indeed that was exactly the way of it as was proved the very next day when the morning's mail brought Marian her long-looked-for letter. She trembled with excitement when Mr. Robbins placed it in her hands, and her eyes eagerly sought Miss Dorothy. "Won't you go with me somewhere and read it to me?" she whispered.

Miss Dorothy hesitated. "Perhaps your father has written it for your eyes alone."

"But suppose I can't read it."

"Well, then we'll go to my room and you can open it there. If you can't read it I'll help you out. Will that do?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, dearest Miss Dorothy." Marian had learned from Patty to use many endearing terms.

They went up-stairs to the pleasant front room with its pretty paper and hangings of roses on a creamy ground, and by the window they sat down while Marian carefully opened the envelope. As she unfolded the sheet of paper it held, something fell out in her lap. "It is a photograph of papa," she cried as she picked it up. "I never had one of my very own, and see, Miss Dorothy, the letter is typewritten so I can read it quite easily, but please sit by me while I see what he says."

It was a long, loving letter in which the writer spoke of the pleasure it had been to him to hear from his little daughter, of how her accounts of her daily life had taken him back to his own childhood, and of how often he thought of her and longed to see her. "If I thought it best, my dear little daughter," he said, "I should not let the ocean roll between us, though some day I hope you can come to me if I may not go to you." There were many more things, entertaining descriptions of the places to which he had lately been, accounts of his doings and his friends, the whole ending with a request that Marian would write as often as she could. As she finished the closing lines Marian held out the letter to Miss Dorothy. "Do read it," she said. "I know he would not care. There isn't anything in it that you mustn't see. I'd like you to read it out loud to me, Miss Dorothy; I can't quite get the sense of it myself." So Miss Dorothy did as she was requested and agreed with Marian that it was a very nice letter, that her father did love her, and that the reason he did not come home was because he felt he would not be welcome.

After this it was an all-important matter to get the photographs ready to send and to write a letter in answer to the one Marian had just received. Patty was very much interested in the photographs, for besides those taken in Greenville of Marian and the cats in the garden, of Marian at school, in the sitting-room with her grandparents, in her own room and in Mrs. Hunt's kitchen, there were a number taken in Revell where various members of the Robbins family appeared and where Patty herself was always a conspicuous figure. But the very last one was of Marian alone with arms outstretched and face upheld for a kiss. Under it was written, "A hug and kiss for you, dear papa, when you come back to your little Marian." This was the child's own idea, and Miss Dorothy carried it out as well as she could.

"Just think," Marian said to Patty, "how much better I know my papa, and I shall keep on knowing him better and better."

"Shall you show your grans the photographs, and the one of him?" asked Patty.

"Yes," returned Marian thoughtfully, "Miss Dorothy thinks I ought to, and that I shall have to tell about my writing to him. I think grandma will be glad, and maybe grandpa will be, too, though he won't say so."

Miss Dorothy overhearing this wise remark, smiled. She quite believed that both Mr. and Mrs. Otway would be glad.

As the days were getting both colder and shorter Miss Dorothy decided that, for the present at least, she must give up coming home every week, and must wait till the Christmas holidays before seeing her family again. On the day she announced this she said also that Mrs. Otway had said that Marian had stayed away long enough. Miss Almira Belt was getting better and her sister could now help with the sewing, especially as a niece was coming to help her, so as Marian needed a new frock she must come home the following Monday with Miss Dorothy. Mrs. Hunt had said she was longing for a sight of her chickadee, Mr. Otway had remarked that it would be pleasant to hear a child's voice in the house once again, and so Marian must go.

Patty was in tears at this news, and Marian herself looked very sorry. "Don't you want to go?" asked Miss Dorothy. "Tippy and Dippy are very anxious to see you and so is Rosamond. I saw her sitting in your room all alone the other day, and she looked very forlorn." Rosamond was Marian's big doll. "I told Ruth you were coming back, and she said: 'Good, good. Give my love to her and tell her I am crazy to see her. I've had the whooping-cough and I'm not a bit afraid of her.' Then, too," Miss Dorothy bent her head and whispered: "Some one who has the room next yours misses you very much and longs for her little neighbor."

Marian smiled at this, but at sight of Patty's tears grew grave again. "If I could take Patty with me," she said, "I should not mind it a bit."

"Maybe Patty can come some time. Mrs. Hunt asked me to bring her and to let her make a little visit there at her house, so we will think of it later on."

This was so pleasant a prospect that Patty brightened up, and though at parting she could not be comforted, Marian went away rather happier than she expected. There would be some excitement in getting back. She would go to see Mrs. Hunt very often, and perhaps Ruth Deering would come to see her, or her grandmother would let her spend an afternoon with Ruth sometimes. Mrs. Otway approved of Ruth, she remembered. But here the thought of Patty came up, and Marian realized that no one could take Patty's place, dear, bright, funny, affectionate Patty, who had been so generous and loving, though she did fly into a temper sometimes and say things she was sorry for afterward. She had tried to help Marian with her writing and had encouraged her so that now Marian could form her letters very well and need not be ashamed when she went back to school. Then, too, Patty had pressed upon her a favorite book of fairy tales which they had read together and which had been the groundwork of many delightful plays. Oh, no, there was nobody like Patty.

Yet as Marian walked with Miss Dorothy up the familiar street, she felt that it was not bad to get back again. There was Mrs. Hunt watching out for her at the gate, to give her a tremendous hug and many kisses. There was Miss Hepzibah Toothacre, "pleasant as pie," at the door to welcome back the child. "Here she is," cried Heppy, and from his study rushed grandpa, from the sitting-room issued grandma, both eager to get to Marian first. "Heigho, heigho, little girl," said grandpa, "it is good to get you back again."

"Well, my dear, how are you? Come kiss grandma," came from Mrs. Otway, and Marian, pleased and surprised, felt that home was not such a bad place after all.

Then there were Dippy and Tippy, and also a surprise, for Heppy mysteriously led the way to the wood-shed which was just outside the kitchen, and what should Marian see there but three new baby kittens with Tippy proudly rubbing and purring around. Marian was on her knees before them in a minute, and had picked out the prettiest to cuddle. "Oh, if I might only keep this one," she said, "and perhaps we could find homes for the others."

"I guess Mis' Otway ain't goin' to allow three cats under foot," said Heppy discouragingly. And indeed when Marian made her request to keep one of the kittens she was straightway denied.

"You may keep two cats," said Mrs. Otway, "but no more will I have. If you choose to get rid of one of the larger ones and keep the little kitten I have no objection, but you will have to decide that for yourself."

But here, as usual, Mrs. Hunt came to the rescue. "Now, chickadee," she said, when Marian told her the dilemma she was in, "you just let me have that nice big gray cat of yours. Our house cat got so he wouldn't live anywhere but in the stable, and grew so wild that I scarcely ever saw him; finally he went away altogether. You bring Dippy here and then you can see him as often as you want to."

Although Marian hated to give up Dippy, she knew he would have the best of homes with Mrs. Hunt, and she did yearn so for the new kitten that she finally decided to turn Dippy over to her good friend. This seemed wise for more reasons than one, for his mother was rather cross to him since her new family had arrived and so Dippy settled down quite content to be petted and made much of by Mrs. Hunt while Marian adopted the new kitten which she called Muff. As Tippy's real name was Tippet, she thought Muff and Tippet went rather well together. One of the other kittens found a home with Ruth Deering, but the third was still unprovided for.

Lessons did not stop, although there was no Miss Emily to hear them. Miss Dorothy told Marian every day what her class would have the next, and Mrs. Otway heard her granddaughter recite whenever she had time; when she did not, Miss Dorothy gave up a half hour in the evening to the child, so she managed to keep abreast with her schoolfellows and made great progress with her writing, now that she had more time for practice, and since the weather housed her more than formerly.

The photographs were sent off a good three weeks before Christmas, and a duplicate set was made for the grans as well as one for Mrs. Hunt. "For," said Marian, "if the grans don't care about Christmas gifts, I do, and I like to give."

As for Miss Dorothy and Patty, Marian was at her wits' end to know what to bestow upon them. She consulted Miss Dorothy as to Patty. "Miss Dorothy," she said, "I shall be very unhappy if I can't give Patty a Christmas gift, and I haven't a thing in the world she would like."

Miss Dorothy, who was busy with some fancy work for Christmas, did not reply for a moment and Marian could see that she had on her thinking cap. "Yes, you have something," presently said Miss Dorothy, "you have the third kitten."

"Oh, Miss Dorothy, do you think she would like him?"

"I am sure she would be delighted."

"But won't the dogs eat him up?"

"No, they're not allowed in the house and Jip is so intelligent that she will understand that neither she nor her puppies must touch the kitten."

"How will I get the kitten to her?"

"I can take it in a basket when I go home for the holidays."

"You always do what I hope you will," confessed Marian. "If all the thank-yous I feel were piled up they would reach to the skies."

"I am sure," laughed Miss Dorothy, "nothing could express your gratitude more perfectly. What shall you name the kitten? I think it would please Patty if he came to her with a name already attached to him, a name that you had given him."

Marian sat thinking, then she smiled and her smile grew broader and broader till she broke out with: "I know what to call him; Prince Puff, and I will tell her that he is the fat toad in a new form; he is still under enchantment."

Miss Dorothy laughed, for she knew all about the play under the big tree near the factory. "I think that would please Patty mightily," she told Marian.

"And, isn't it funny," Marian went on, "his name rhymes with Muff. Patty will like that, too. She likes us to have things alike, so I will have Muff and she will have Puff, Muff's brother. I am so relieved to have Patty's present all settled."

But for her beloved Miss Dorothy there was still nothing, so Marian racked her brains to devise some gift. At last she decided that nothing was too good for one she loved so well, and that as the most precious thing she possessed was her father's photograph she must give that to her teacher. So, just before Miss Dorothy took her departure for the holidays she went to her to slip a small package in her hand. On the outside was written: "I am giving you this because I love you so much. A Merry Christmas from Marian." "You mustn't open it till Christmas day," she said earnestly.

"I will not," Miss Dorothy assured her. "Thank you now, dearie, for I am sure whatever it is I shall be pleased to have it. I wish you were going to spend the day with us."

"I wish so, too, but grandma said I had already been at Revell long enough to wear out my welcome."

"I didn't see a sign of its being threadbare when you came away," Miss Dorothy told her. "Now, have we Puff all safe?"

"Yes, he is asleep in his basket. You won't forget to tie the card around his neck with the red ribbon."

"No, I'll not forget. You must be sure to look on the inside knob of my clothes-press door the first thing Christmas morning."

"I won't forget that. I think it is fine to have a secret waiting in there for me."

"Here is the key. I know I can trust you not to open it till then."

"Indeed you can trust me."

"I am sure of it. Now give me a good hug and a kiss for Patty, for I must be off."

Marian needed no second bidding, and in a few minutes was watching Miss Dorothy go down the street carrying the basket that held Puff, and walking swiftly to catch her train. There were big tears in Marian's eyes as she turned from the window, for it seemed as if the sunshine had faded away with Miss Dorothy's going, and that Christmas would be only a gray every-day sort of time with no Patty to make it merry, and no Miss Dorothy to add to its cheer.

However, when her grandmother called her it was to do rather an interesting thing, for a Christmas box for the poor minister of a distant parish was to be packed, and Marian enjoyed handing her grandmother the articles to be put in and to talk over them. Grandma knew the circumstances of the family to whom the box was going and that there was a little girl somewhat younger than Marian to whom her out-grown clothes would go. Marian thought she would have enjoyed sending something more personal, and said so.

"Is there nothing you can make a sacrifice of, my child?" asked her grandmother solemnly. "Christmas is the time for that, you know. Our Lord gave His best to us and that is why we also give."

Marian turned over in her mind her various possessions. She simply could not give up Patty Wee after all the dangers she had been through, neither could she part with her big doll, for that had been Annie Hunt's, and had been given to herself only because Annie's mother was so fond of Ralph Otway's daughter. Muff was out of the question for he would smother in that box. But there were the paper dolls Miss Emily had made. She could give them. So she went up-stairs, took out the envelope which contained these treasures, softly kissed each painted face and said, "You are going to a new home, my dears, and I hope you will like it. Good-bye, Mr. Guy Mannering, good-bye, Mrs. Mannering, good-bye, little baby." She put them all back in the envelope and carried it down-stairs. "I am going to send these to Mary Eliza," she said steadily. "They are the paper dolls Miss Emily made me."

"That is my good girl," said her grandmother. "Your gift will come back to you in some other form, some day. I am much pleased that my little granddaughter is so disposed to be generous with the bounties the Lord has bestowed upon her." And Marian really felt quite light-hearted the rest of the day.

Her spirits, too, were further lightened that afternoon when she was made the special messenger to carry to Miss Almira Belt the very lavender and white wrapper which she and Patty had picked out that day when they were doing the make-believe shopping. Marian, of course, told Mrs. Hunt all about it, and as one of the Guild which looked after such things, it had been voted to give Miss Almira some such present, and Mrs. Hunt had gone with Mrs. Perkins to select it. They had all agreed that Marian's choice was such a good one that it must be bought if possible, and fortunately Mrs. Hunt was able to get the very wrapper she wanted. On account of Marian's part in the matter she was asked to carry the gift to Miss Almira, and thus one of her make-believes actually came true.

_CHAPTER XII_

_The Christmas Tree_

Christmas morning Marian awoke very early. She slipped out of bed and went to the window. A few stars were still in the sky, though the gray dawn was stealing up the land. In a few minutes the church bells pealed out upon the wintry air. Marian folded her hands and thought of the shepherds and the wise men, the little infant Jesus in the manger and all the rest of the beautiful story. But it was cold by the window and she determined to get back into bed till she should be called. Then she suddenly remembered that this was "first thing in the morning" and that she need not wait to open Miss Dorothy's locked clothes-press. She could find out what was there.

So she softly struck a match, lighted her candle and tiptoed across the floor, first taking the key from its place on the mantel. For a moment a wild hope came to her that it might be a Christmas tree, a little one, behind that locked door, but that idea faded away for she remembered that Miss Dorothy had said, "I would like to set up a Christmas tree for you, dearie, but it is your grandma's house and I would not have the right to do it if she disapproves," and so it could not possibly be a Christmas tree.

She set down her candle, unlocked the door and felt for what should hang on the knob inside. As she did so she smothered a little cry of delight for her hand grasped a well-filled stocking. Quickly unfastening it, she skurried back to her room with the treasure. In another moment she was snuggled down under the warm covers examining the contents of her stocking. It held all the foolish and pleasant things which such stockings usually hold, and to these were added sundry little gifts. A note pinned on the outside read:

"DEAREST MARIAN:

"I hope you will like your stocking. It is exactly such as
Patty will have, and I know you will be pleased to have it
so. A Merry Christmas from all of us at Revell.

"Lovingly yours,
"DOROTHY ROBBINS."

A stocking just like Patty's! What joy! Perhaps at that very moment Patty was looking at hers. It was so delightful to open the small packages, to find a beautiful paper-doll from Miss Emily, a funny cheap toy from each of the boys: a silly monkey, a quacking duck and a jumping jack; a little fairy tale book from Patty, and oh, wonder! the Roman sash from Miss Dorothy. Even Mr. Robbins and Aunt Barbara had contributed, the former a little purse with a ten cent piece in it, and the latter a box of her famous nut candy. Surely never was a stocking more appreciated and more gloated over.

It was broad daylight and her grandmother was calling her before Patty realized that her candle had burned down to its socket and that it was time to get up. She huddled her gifts back into the stocking and hurried to get bathed and dressed, for a day beginning so delightfully must surely have more happiness in it. And indeed this did seem to be so, for though her presents from her grandparents were, as usual, useful, among them was a set of furs, just what Marian had longed for since she saw Patty's, and there was also a little typewriter for her very self from her grandpa. Marian's mustard seeds were surely doing their work.

There were buckwheat cakes for breakfast, too, and Heppy beckoned Marian to the kitchen afterward. A row of mince pies stood on the table, and at the end of the row was a little scalloped one, "for you," said Heppy. There was a pair of queerly shaped figures, too, among the ginger-snaps. Heppy gave a funny chuckle as she picked them out. "I guess nobody'd know what they're intended for," she said. "I guess I won't go into the sculping business, for I find I'm no hand at making figgers."

But Marian was as delighted with these as if they had been perfect and bore them with the rest of her things to show Mrs. Hunt.

Her grans had smiled indulgently when she showed her stocking, but had not seemed to think very much of it. Mrs. Otway said she supposed Miss Dorothy had paid a pretty penny for the sash, and it was more than she ought to have done. Mr. Otway thought Marian must be too big a girl to care for jumping-jacks and such foolishness, but that was the most that was said.

One of the events of Christmas day had always been the visit to Mrs. Hunt, for this usually meant the best of the day's doings, and Marian was always in a hurry to get off, but this time she was not in such haste, for she liked to linger over her delightful stocking, and enjoyed trying her typewriter while her grandfather showed her how to use it. So it was not till her elders set out for church that she was ready. Her cough shut her out of any churchgoing for a while, but she begged to wear her new furs to show Mrs. Hunt, and was given consent.

The church bells were all ringing as she entered Mrs. Hunt's door. "I thought you wouldn't get here at all," said Mrs. Hunt in response to Marian's "Merry Christmas!" "I was getting real anxious about you. Come right in out of the cold. What made you so late, chickadee?"

"Because it has been such a glad morning," Marian answered. "I don't care anything about moving mountains any more, though it would have been nice to have a tree, too."

"It would, would it? Well, I don't know. Is that for me?" as Marian presented the book of photographs. "Well, I declare, isn't that you all over? This is a Christmas gift worth having. What a Miss Dorothy it is. Come, kiss me, dearie, you couldn't have given me anything I like better. Now tell me what has made you so glad."

Then Marian displayed her stocking and her furs, and was describing her typewriter when Mrs. Hunt said: "Then I suppose you won't care about what I have for you."

"Oh, Auntie Hunt, you know I always care," returned Marian reproachfully. "I never had a Christmas stocking before, and I did so want furs."

"Bless her dear heart! Auntie Hunt was only teasing you a little. Well, I don't believe what I have will wait much longer, so perhaps we'd better go look at it." And she led the way to the parlor.