Patty and Moses looked on with great Interest. "How slow they are!" said Moses. "I've kept count, and you've dipped more'n a hundred sticks, and you haven't made one candle yet." "Rome wasn't built in a day," said Mrs. Lyman, going back to the very beginning, and dipping the first row over again. "I don't know what Rome is," said Patty. "Well, I wouldn't fuss with those strings," observed Moses; "why, this makes twice, and they're no bigger round yet than slate pencils." "I'd let 'em alone," said Patty, "and not try." "Moses, you might as well run off and see if father wants you," said Mrs. Lyman; "and, Patience, I know Dorcas would like some cloves pounded." In about an hour Patty was back again. The candles had grown, but only a very little. They were no larger yet than _lead_ pencils. And there sat Mrs. Lyman with a steady, sober look on her face, as if she had made up her mind to wait and let them take their time to grow. "What slow candles!" cried Patty. "Patience, dear," said Mrs. Lyman, smiling. "There, mamma, you said Patience, but you didn't mean me; you meant the _good_ kind of patience." "Yes, I meant the patience that works and waits. Now go and wash some potatoes for to-morrow's breakfast, and then you may come again and look." "When Patty came the second time, she exclaimed, with delight, "O, mamma, they're as big round as candy! Wish _'twas_ candy; wouldn't I eat?" Mrs. Lyman began again at the first row. "Why, mamma Lyman, true's you live I can begin to see 'em grow!" "You are right," said her mother. "People don't work and wait, all for nothing, daughter." "Yankee Doodle came to town," sang Patty, dancing the time to the tune, as if she did not hear her mother's words. But she did hear them, and was putting them away in her memory, along with a thousand other things which had been said to her, and which she had not seemed to hear at the time. I wish Mrs. Lyman could have known this, for she sometimes thought it was of no use to talk to Patty. I wish she could have known that years afterwards the dancing child would be comforted in many a trouble by these cheery words, "People don't work and wait for nothing, daughter." For you see it all came back to Patty when she was a woman. She saw a picture of her good mother dipping candles, with a steady, sober look on her face; and that picture always did her good. I wonder if the little folks, even in these days, don't hear and heed more than they appear to? If so, their mammas ought to believe it, and take courage. "Mother, why do you pour hot water into that kettle? Won't water _put out_ candles?" "Perhaps not; perhaps it will make the tallow rise to the top," said Mrs. Lyman, laughing. "O, so it does. Isn't it _such_ fun to dip candles? They grow as fast as you can wink. Mayn't I dip, please, mamma?" "Who was it," replied Mrs. Lyman, with a quiet smile, "that said, 'I'd let 'em alone, and not try?'" "O, but, mamma, that was when they didn't grow, you know."