Stolidly, the woman opened a drawer, counted out sixteen dollars and a half, and gave it to Patty, who said good-day, and stalked out of the shop. Nan followed, and when they were seated in the motor-car, both broke into peals of laughter. "Oh, Patty," cried Nan, "what a financier you are! You nearly killed yourself working yesterday, and now you've paid a dollar and a half for the privilege!" "Pooh!" said Patty. "Nothing of the sort. I paid a dollar and a half for some valuable experience, and I think I got it cheap enough!" "Yes, I suppose you did. Well, what are you going to do next? For I know you well enough to know you're not going to give up your scheme entirely." "Indeed I'm not! But to-day I'm going to frivol. I worked hard enough yesterday to deserve a rest, and I'm going to take it. Come on, let's go somewhere nice to luncheon, and then go to a matinee; it's Wednesday." "Very well; I think you do need recreation. I'll take you to Cherry's for luncheon, and then we'll go to see a comic opera, or some light comedy." "You're a great comfort, Nan," said Patty. "You always do just the right thing. But you needn't think you can divert my mind to the extent of making me give up this plan of mine. For I won't do that." "I know you won't. But next time do try something easier." "I shall. I've already made up my mind what it's to be; and truly, it's dead easy." "I thought your red-headed friend cured you of using slang," said Nan, smiling. "I thought so, too," said Patty, with an air of innocent surprise. "Isn't it queer how one can be mistaken?" True to her determination, Patty started out again the following morning to get an "occupation," as they all termed it. Again Miller was amazed at the address given him, but he said nothing, and proceeded to drive Patty to it. It was even less attractive than the former shop, being nothing more or less than an establishment where "white work" was given out. "How many?" asked the woman in charge, and, profiting by past experience, Patty said: "One dozen." The woman took her name and address, in a quick, business-like way. "One dollar a dozen," she said. "Must be returned within the week. Deductions made for all imperfections." She handed Patty a large bundle done up in newspaper, and, with flaming cheeks, Patty walked out of the shop. "Home, Miller," she said, and though the man was too well trained to look surprised, he couldn't keep an expression of astonishment out of his eyes when he saw Patty's burden. On the way home she opened the parcel. There were in it twelve infants' slips, of rather coarse muslin. They were cut out, but not basted. Patty looked a little doubtful, then she thought: "Oh, pshaw! It's very different from that fine embroidery. I can swish these through the sewing-machine in no time at all." Reaching home, she threw the lap-robe over her bundle, and hurried into the house with it.