But it was only half-past four, and by half-past six they were all finished but the buttonholes.
And Patty was nearly finished, too!
She had not realised how physically tired she was. Running the sewing-machine all day was an unusual exertion, and when she reached her own room, with her arms full of the little white garments, she threw them on the bed, and threw herself on the couch, weary in every bone and muscle.
“Well, what luck?” said Nan, appearing at Patty’s doorway, herself all dressed for dinner.
“Oh, Nan,” cried Patty, laughing, “me legs is broke; and me arms is broke; and me back is broke. But I’m not nervous or worried, and I’m going to win out this time! But, Nan, I just can’t go down to dinner. Send Jane up with a tray,—there’s a dear. And tell father I’m all right, but I don’t care to mingle in society to-night.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re in good spirits,” said Nan, half annoyed, half laughing, as she saw the pile of white work on the bed.
“Run along, Nan, there’s a good lady,” said Patty, jumping up, and urging Nan out the door. “Skippy-skip, before father comes up to learn the latest news from the seat of war. Tell him everything is all right, and I’m earning my living with neatness and despatch, only working girls simply can’t get into chiffons and dine with the ‘quality.’”
Reassured by Patty’s gay air, Nan went downstairs, laughing, and told her husband that she believed Patty would yet accomplish her project.
“These experiences will do her no harm,” said Mr. Fairfield, after hearing Nan’s story. “So long as she doesn’t get nervous or mentally upset, we’ll let her go on with her experiment. She’s a peculiar nature, and has a wonderful amount of will-power for one so young.”
“I’ve always heard you were called stubborn,” said Nan, smiling, “though I’ve never seen it specially exemplified in your case.”