But nothing of this was done in church time. Elder Lovejoy preached a very long sermon, in a painfully sing-song tone; but Patty thought it was exactly right; and when she heard a minister preach without the sing-song, she knew it must be wrong. She could not understand the sermon, but she stretched up her little neck towards the pulpit till it ached, thinking,-- "Well, mamma says I must sit still, and let other people listen. I won't make any _disturbment_." Mrs. Lyman looked at her little daughter with an approving smile, and Deacon Turner, that dreadful tithing-man up in the gallery, thought his lecture had done that "flighty little creetur" a great deal of good--or else it was his dollar, he did not know which. Patty sat still for a whole hour and more, counting the brass nails in the pews, and the panes of glass in the windows, and keeping her eyes away from Daddy Wiggins, who always made her want to laugh. At last the sermon was over, and the people had just time enough to go to their homes for a cold dinner before afternoon service, which began at one o'clock. Sunday did seem like a long day to little folks; and do you wonder? They had no Sabbath school or Sabbath school books; and the only part of the day which seemed to be made for them was the evening. At that time they had to say their catechisms,--those who had not said them the night before. Did you ever see a Westminster Catechism, with its queer little pictures? Then you can have no idea how it looks. After supper Mrs. Lyman called the children into her bedroom, shut the door, and had them repeat their lessons, beginning with the question, "Who was the first man?" Patty supposed the Catechism was as holy as the Bible, and thought the rhyme,-- "Zaccheus he Did climb a tree, His Lord to see," was fine poetry, of course, and she never dreamed of laughing at the picture of dried-up little Zaccheus standing on the top of a currant-bush. Little Solly could answer almost all the questions, and sometimes baby Benny, who sat in his mamma's lap, would try to do it too. They all enjoyed these Sunday evenings in "mother's bedroom," for Mrs. Lyman had a very pleasant way of talking with her children, and telling interesting Bible stories. The lesson this evening was on the commandment, "Thou shalt not covet." When Patty understood what it meant, she said promptly, "Well, mamma, _I_ don't do it." For she was thinking,-- "What you s'pose I want of Linda Chase's bosom-pin? I wouldn't be seen wearing it!" CHAPTER IX. MRS. CHASE'S BOTTLE. You see Patty knew as much about her own little heart as she did about Choctaw. One Wednesday morning, early in September, Mrs. Lyman stood before the kneading trough, with both arms in dough as far as the elbows. In the farthest corner of the kitchen sat little Patty, pounding mustard-seed in a mortar. "Mamma," said she, "Linda Chase has got a calico gown that'll stand alone."