"What kind of things, Patricia?"
"Well, you see, Daddy, there are such a lot of babies all along, they just expect to be noticed; and sometimes I go for some of the girls and they've something to do and I wait to help; and sometimes I go an errand for old Mrs. Daly—you know she hasn't any one to go at home. If you were with me you'd understand, Daddy."
The doctor smiled. "Oh, I understand all right, Patricia; still, this being late for school has got to stop. Suppose every one in the room came just a little late?"
"They don't," Patricia said; "most of the girls hate it."
"And you must learn to hate it too; as a means to that end, if it happens again this week it must be only the yard on Saturday, Patricia."
"Daddy!" Patricia made swift calculation on the tips of her fingers; it was Monday night—twice four made eight—eight pitfalls to be avoided or else—Not once since her coming had grandmother failed to take Patricia somewhere on Saturday afternoon.
All of this was in Patricia's gray eyes, as she lifted them appealingly to her father. "Daddy, if you could make it something else?"
"Are you going to give up the fight beforehand, Pat?"
"But you see, Daddy," Patricia quoted gravely, "I 'know my limitations.' And besides, it isn't just me—grandmother'll be so disappointed; you know we always go somewhere together Saturday afternoon."
"Which means a double reason for coming up to the mark, Patricia," the doctor answered; and Patricia, with a little sigh, turned away.