As it was now late she hesitated to trouble anybody about the matter, and thought she would rather manage without a bed.
She did think of asking Bumble to let her share her room, but she didn't know where her cousin's room was, and too, there might be only a single bed in it. So Patty decided to try the old sofa.
As she had no pillow or bed-clothing, she rolled up a dress to put under her head and pinned two skirts together for a coverlet.
But the old haircloth scratched her bare feet, and poor Patty soon jumped up and sought another resting-place.
She cuddled up in a big armchair which was soft and warm, and there she soon fell asleep. But later, she awoke, so stiff from her cramped position, that she could scarcely move. So then she lay down on the floor and slept there the rest of the night.
Next morning she dressed herself and went down-stairs at about eight o'clock, but nobody was in sight, so Patty went out on the veranda and watched the waves as they came rolling and tumbling up on the beach.
Then, with a view to exploring her new home, she walked round the house.
This brought her to the kitchen, and through the window she saw a fat old black woman raking rigorously at the range.
"Dis yer stove 'll make me lose my 'ligion," Patty heard her murmur, and she felt sure she was listening to old Hopalong. "Good-morning, Hopalong," she cried.
"'Mawnin', missy; an' who be you?"