"Oh, yes," said Patty; "see the dead vines. In the summer it must have honeysuckles all over it. And there's the little arbour at the foot of the garden. I'm going down to see it." Marian started to follow her, but Laura called her back to show her some new attraction, and Patty ran alone down the veranda steps, and through the box-bordered paths to the little rustic arbour. "Goodness!" she exclaimed, as she reached it. "Who in the world are you?" For inside the arbour sat a strange-looking girl of about Patty's own age. She was a tall, thin child, with a pale face, large black eyes, and straight black hair, which hung in wisps about her ears. "I'm Pansy," she said, clasping her hands in front of her, and looking straight into Patty's face. "You're Pansy, are you?" said Patty, looking puzzled. "And what are you doing here, Pansy?" "Well, miss, you see it's this way. I want to go out to service; and when I heard you was going to have a house of your own, I thought maybe you'd take me to work for you." "Oh, you did! Well, why didn't you come and apply to me, then, in proper fashion, and not sit out here waiting for me to come to you? Suppose I hadn't come?" "I was sure you'd come, miss. Everybody who looks at this house comes out to look at the arbour; but there hasn't been anybody before that I wanted to work for. Please take me, miss; I'll be faithful and true." "What can you do?" asked Patty, half laughing, and half pitying the strange-looking girl. "Can you cook?" "No, ma'am, I can't cook; but I might learn it. But I didn't mean that. I thought you'd have a cook, and you'd take me for a table girl, you know; and to tidy up after you." "I do want a waitress; but have you had any experience?" "No, ma'am," said the girl very earnestly, "I haven't, but I'm just sure I could learn. If you just tell me a thing once, you needn't ever tell it to me again. That's something, isn't it?" "Indeed it is," said Patty, remembering a certain careless waitress at Mrs. Elliott's. "Have you any references?" "No," said the girl, smiling; "you see, I've never lived anywhere except home, and I suppose mother's reference wouldn't count." "It would with me," said Patty decidedly. "I think your mother ought to know more about you than anybody else. What would she say if I asked her?" "She'd say I was careless and heedless and thoughtless, and didn't know anything," replied the girl cheerfully; "and I am that way at home, but I wouldn't be if I worked for you, because I want to be a waitress, and a good one; and you'd see how quick I'd learn. Oh, do take me, miss. You'll never be sorry, and that's sure!" This statement was accompanied by such decided gestures of head and hands that Patty was very nearly convinced to the contrary, but she only said, "I'm sorry, Pansy,--you said your name was Pansy, didn't you?" "Yes, miss,--Pansy Potts." "What an extraordinary name!"