Patty was crying by this time very loud, and there was a certain babyish sound in her wail which suddenly reminded Deacon Turner that he was talking to a little girl, and not to a young woman. "There, there, now, don't cry," said he, patting her head, for her sun-bonnet had fallen back on her neck, "you didn't mean to make fun of religion; I'm sartin sure of that." "No, I di-idn't, or if I did, I di-idn't mean to," almost howled Patty. A grim smile overspread the deacon's face. The idea of an infant like that making fun of religion! "Somehow I was thinkin' you was an older child than what you be," said he, rubbing her silky hair as roughly as a plough would go through a bed of flowers. The action almost drove Patty wild, but the good man meant it most kindly. "Let's see, I suppose you know your letters now?" added he, going to the other extreme, and talking to her as if she were very young indeed. "And, of course, your mother, who is a godly woman, has you say your catechism. Do you remember, my dear, who made you?" The question caused Patty to raise her tearful eyes in astonishment. Did he think a girl six and a half years old didn't know that? "Yes, sir," said she, meekly; "God made me." "Right, my dear; that's well said. You're not such a bad child after all, and seem to have considerable sense. Here is a dollar for you, my little woman, and tell your mother I know she's bringing you up in the way you should go, and I hope when you are old you'll not depart from it." Patty stared at the dollar through her tears, and it seemed to stare back again with a face almost as big as a full moon. "O, thank you, sir," said she, with a deep courtesy. Never in her life had she owned a whole silver dollar before. How it danced and shone! She held it tight, for it did not seem to be real, and she was afraid it would melt or fly away before she could get it home. "Mother, O mother," cried she, "see this live dollar! Deacon Turner gave it to me for remembering who made me!" "Why, child, what do you mean?" "She means just what she says, mother," said Mary. "Deacon Turner spoke to her in prayer meeting last night--" "Why, Patience!" "And he was sorry for it, mother, just as Siller thought he'd be; and so he wanted to give her something to make up, I suppose; but _should_ you have thought he'd have given her that dollar?" Mrs. Lyman was grieved to learn that Patty had been so restless and so irreverent, and called her into the bedroom to talk with her about it. "My little girl is old enough to begin to think," said she. "Yes, mother," said Patty, laying the silver dollar against her cheek, "I do think." "But, Patience, you knew the people had met in that school-house to talk about God; you should have listened to what they were saying." "But, mamma, the words were too big; I can't understand such big words." "Well, then, my daughter, you certainly could have sat still, and let other people listen." Patty hung her head.