It was so nice to think of having more brothers; for as yet poor Patty had only seven! CHAPTER XV. THE BRASS KETTLE. There was a great time that year preparing for Thanksgiving. It seemed as if the tall clock had never ticked so fast before, nor the full moon smiled down from the top of it with such a jolly face. "It's going to be what you may call a sort of a double Thanksgiving," said Moses. "Why?" asked Patty. "Because there'll be double turkeys and double puddings?" "No, Patty Lyman! Don't you remember what's going to happen before dinner?" "O, you mean the wedding! I knew that ever so long ago." Patty had heard of it the day before. "Equal to Fourth of July and training-day put together," remarked Moses, snatching a handful of raisins out of the bowl Mary held in her lap. "Yes," said Patty, leaving off her spice-pounding long enough to clap her hands; "it's splendid!" "I don't see how you can say so," said the thoughtful Mary, "when our dear sister Dorcas is going 'way off, and never'll live at home any more!" "Yes, I know it," responded Patty, looking as serious as she could, for Mary was wiping her eyes on her apron. "It's dreadful! O, how bad I feel!" The kitchen was so full you could hardly turn around. Everybody was there but Dorcas, and she was finishing off her wedding-dress. Mrs. Lyman was stuffing two large turkeys; Betsey was making brown bread; Moses chopping mince-meat; and those who had nothing else to do were talking. Aunt Hannah was there, helping Rachel make the wedding-cake; but the trouble was with aunt Hannah that she couldn't come without bringing her baby; and there he was, rolling about the floor like a soft bundle of yellow flannel--a nice, fat baby, with a ruffled cap on his head. He was named Job, after his father, who had borne that name through a long life, and been very patient about it. "Now, Patty," said Rachel, "I see you've stopped pounding cloves, and I wish you'd take care of this baby; he is rolling up towards the molasses jug, and will tip it over next thing he does." Patty had only stopped pounding for half a minute. It seemed to her that her right hand always had a mortar-pestle in it. She ran now to get some playthings for Job--a string of earthen-ware beads, and a pewter plate to hold them when he should break the string; and a squash-shell, filled with peas,--just as good as a rattle, let me tell you. Then she sat on the floor, making baby-talk with the little creature, who has since that been somebody's grandfather. Patty always meant well, and now she was really able to help a great deal. At ten years old she was quite a tall girl, though what the country-folks called rather "slim." Her dress was made of thick cotton and woollen goods, all rough with little knobs,--the same Rachel had woven in "blue and copperas checks." Patty soon tired of amusing Job. She wanted to do something of more importance.