But in very truth it was one o’clock, and it was a thoughtful Patty who walked slowly downstairs.
“Nan,” she exclaimed, “the trouble with an occupation is, that there’s not time enough in a day, or a half-day, to do anything.”
Nan nodded her head sagaciously.
“I’ve always noticed that,” she said. “It’s only when you’re playing, that there’s any time. If you try to work, there’s no time at all.”
“Not a bit!” echoed Patty, “and what there is, glides through your fingers before you know it.”
She hurried through her luncheon, and returned to the sewing-room. She was not tired, but there was a great deal yet to do.
The tiny sleeves she put through the machine, one after another, until she had twenty-four in a long chain, linked by a single stitch.
“Oh, method and system accomplish wonders,” she thought, as she snipped the sleeves apart, and rapidly folded hems round the little wrists.
But even with method and system, twenty-four is a large number, and as Patty turned the last hem, twilight fell, and she turned on the lights.
“Goodness, gracious!” she thought. “I’ve yet all these sleeves to set, and stitch in, and the fronts to finish off; and a buttonhole to work in each neckband.”