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ready all the time and work as hard as I can so they won’t be ashamed of me, for I guess my folks is respectable,” Patty replied, lifting her head with an air of pride that made the lady ask with a smile:
    â€œWhat makes you think so?”
    â€œWell, I heard the matron tell the lady who chose Nelly Brian that she always thought I came of high folks because I was so different from the others, and my ways was nice, and my feet so small—see if they ain’t”—and slipping them out of the rough shoes she wore, Patty held up two slender, little feet with the arched insteps that tell of good birth.
    Miss Murray—for that was her name—laughed right out loud at the innocent vanity of the poor child, and said heartily, “They are small, and so are your hands in spite of work. Your hair is fine, your eyes are soft and clear, and you are a good child I’m sure, which is best of all.”
    Pleased and touched by the praise that is so pleasant to us all, yet half ashamed of herself, Patty blushed and smiled, put on her shoes, and said with unusual animation—
    â€œI’m pretty good, I believe, and I know I’d be much better if I could only get out. I do so long to see trees and grass, and sit in the sun, and listen to the birds. I’d work real hard and be happy if I could live in the country.”
    â€œWhat can you do?” asked Miss Murray, stroking Patty’s smooth head and looking down into the wistful eyes fixed upon her.
    Modestly, but with a flutter of hope in her heart, Patty recited her domestic accomplishments. It was a good list for a thirteen-year-old, for Patty had been working hard for so long that she had become unusually clever at all sorts of housework as well as needlework.
    As she ended, she asked timidly, “Did you come for a girl, ma’am?”
    â€œMy sister-in-law, Mrs. Murray, did, but she found one she likes and is going to take her on trial.” Her answer caused the light to fade from Patty’s eyes and the hope to die in her heart.
    â€œWho is it, please?” she asked.
    â€œLizzie Brown, a tall, nice-looking girl of fourteen.”
    â€œYou won’t like her, I know, for Lizzie is a real—” There Patty stopped short, turned red, and looked down as if ashamed to meet the keen, kind eyes fixed on her.
    â€œA real what?”
    â€œPlease, ma’am, don’t ask. It was mean of me to say that, and I mustn’t go on. Lizzie can’t help being good with you, and I am glad she has a chance to go away.”
    Aunt Jane Murray asked no more questions, but she noted the little glimpse of character, and tried to brighten Patty’s mood by talking about something of interest to her.
    â€œSuppose your ‘folks,’ as you say, never come for you, and you never find your fortune as some girls do, can’t you make friends and fortune for yourself?”
    â€œHow can I?” questioned Patty, wonderingly.
    â€œBy cheerfully taking whatever comes, by being helpful and affectionate to all, and by wasting no time dreaming about what may happen, but bravely making each day a comfort and a pleasure to yourself and others. Can you do that?”
    â€œI can try, ma’am,” answered Patty, meekly.
    â€œI wish you would, and when I come again, you can tell me how you are doing. I believe you will succeed, and when you do, you will have found for yourself a fine fortune and confident certainty of your friends. Now I must go. Cheer up, deary, your turn will come one day.”
    With a kiss that won Patty’s heart, Miss Murray went away, casting more than one look of pity at the small figure sobbing in the window seat, with a blue pinafore over her face.
    This disappointment was doubly hard for Patty because Lizzie was not a good girl and to her mind, did not deserve such good fortune. Besides, Patty had taken a great fancy to the lady who spoke so kindly to her.
    For a week after this,