"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.