"Don't you keep a man?" "No; a man comes every day to do the hard work, but he doesn't live with us." "Humph, I suppose you think you're pretty smart, don't you?" "I don't know," said Patty slowly, as if considering; "yes, I think I'm pretty smart in some ways, and in other ways I'm as stupid as an owl." "Well, you must be pretty smart, because you haven't had to borrow anything over here yet." "But I wouldn't borrow anything here, anyway, Miss Daggett; you specially asked me not to." Miss Daggett's old wrinkled face broke into a smile. "And so you remember that. Well, well, you are a nice little girl; you must have had a good mother, and a good bringing-up." "My mother died when I was three, and my father brought me up." "He did, hey? Well, he made a fairly good job of it. Now, I guess you can go; I'm about tired of talking to you." "Then I will go. But, first, Miss Daggett, let me tell you that I met your nephew the other day." "Kenneth! For the land's sake! Well, well, sit down again. I don't want you to go yet; tell me all about him. Isn't he a nice boy? Hasn't he fine eyes? And gentlemanly manners? And oh, the lovely ways with him!" "Yes, Miss Daggett, he is indeed a nice boy; my father and I both think so. His eyes and his manners are fine. He says he wants to come out to see you soon." "Bless his heart, I hope he'll come! I do hope he'll come." "Then you like to have him come to see you?" said Patty, a little roguishly. "Yes, and I like to have you, too. Land, child! you mustn't mind my quick ways." "I don't mind how quick you are," said Patty; "but when you tell me to be sure and not come to see you, of course I don't come." "Oh, that's all right," said Miss Daggett, "that's all right; I'll always send for you when I want you. "But perhaps I can't always come," said Patty. "I may be busy with my housekeeping." "Now, wouldn't that be annoying!" said Miss Daggett. "I declare that would be just my luck. I always do have bad luck." "Perhaps it's the way you look at it," said Patty. "Now, I have some things that seem like bad luck, at least, other people think they do; but if I look at them right--happy and cheerful, you know--why, they just seem like good luck." "Really," said Miss Daggett, with a curious smile; "well now, you _are_ a queer child, and I'm not at all sure but I'd like to have you come again. Do you want to see around my house?" "I'd like to very much, but it's so dark a bat couldn't see things in this room." "But I can't open the shades, the sun would fade all the furniture coverings." "Well, then, you could buy new ones," said Patty; "that would be better than living in the dark." "Dark can't hurt anybody," said Miss Daggett gloomily. "Oh, indeed it can," said Patty earnestly. "Why, darkness--I mean darkness in the daytime--makes you all stewed up and fidgety and horrid; and sunshine makes you all gay and cheerful and glad." "Like you," said Miss Daggett.