But we must give up hunting for a little while: Sunday has come. Let us forget that "live dollar" (_perhaps_ it's a dead dollar now), and go to church with Patty. When she was "dressed for meeting," she went into the nicely sanded parlor and stood alone before the looking-glass a minute or two to admire herself. Look at her! She had on a blue cambric frock, and a blue cambric jockey, or hat, turned up a little at the sides, and tied under the chin with a blue ribbon; and on her little brown hands were a pair of white cotton gloves. Don't laugh, little city folks! This was all very fine, sixty years ago, in a backwoods town. But look at her feet, and you _must_ laugh! Her shoes were of the finest red broadcloth, and Mrs. Lyman had made them herself out of pieces of her own cloak and some soft leather left in the house by Mr. Piper, the shoemaker. He went from family to family, making shoes; but he could not make all that were needed in town, so this was not the first time Mrs. Lyman had tried her hand at the business. She used a pretty last and real shoemaker's thread, and Mr. Piper said she was "a dabster at it; no wonder her husband was well off when he had such a smart wife." For, strange as it may seem to you, Squire Lyman _was_ "well off,"--that is, he had one of the best farms in the county, and more money than any one else in Perseverance, except Mr. Chase and Dr. Potter; those two men were much wealthier than he was. All the Lymans walked to church except the squire and his wife and the two little boys; they went in the chaise. Dr. Potter rode horseback, with a great show of silk stockings. His wife was propped up behind him on a pillion. She was a graceful rider, but of course she had to put one arm around the doctor to keep from falling off. This would be an odd sight now to you or me, but Patty was so used to seeing ladies riding on pillions that she thought nothing about it. She looked down at her red shoes twinkling in and out of the green grass, and might have been perfectly happy, only the soles wouldn't squeak. "Patty! Patty!" called sister Mary, "come back here and walk with me." Patty did not know till then that she was _hopping_. She went and took Mary's hand, and walked soberly along, thinking. "I hope Deacon Turner didn't see me. I guess he's 'way ahead of us. I want to run and swing my arms; but I won't, because it is God's holy day." On the way they overtook Sally Potter, whose jockey was dented and faded; and Patty said, "Good morning, Sally," with quite an air. But when Linda Chase came along, and her new red bosom-pin shone out in the sun, Patty's heart died within her. "S'pose Linda don't know some folks don't like to see little girls wear bosom-pins," thought she. When they reached the meeting-house Mrs. Potter was just alighting upon a horse-block. "Good morning, Linda," said she; "and how do _you_ do, Patty, my dear?"