“But, seriously,” said Patty, who was in earnest mood, “I do want to do good. I don’t mean in a public way, but in a charity way.”
“Oh, soup-kitchens and bread-lines?”
“No; not exactly. I mean to help people who have no sweetness and light in their lives.”
“Oh, Patty,” groaned Nan, “if you’re on that tack, you’re hopeless. What have you been reading? ‘The Young Maiden’s Own Ruskin,’ or ‘Look Up and Not Down’?”
“And lend a ten,” supplemented Mr. Fairfield.
“You needn’t laugh,” began Patty, pouting a little. Then she laughed herself, and went on: “Yes, you may laugh if you want to,—I know I sound ridiculous. But I tell you, people, I’m going to make good!”
“You may make good,” said her father, “but you’ll never be good until you stop using slang. How often, my daughter, have I told you——”
“Oh, cut it out, daddy,” said Patty, dimpling with laughter, for she knew her occasional slang phrases amused her father, even though they annoyed him. “If you’ll help me ‘do noble things, not dream them all day long,’ I’ll promise to talk only in purest English undefiled.”
“Goodness, Patty!” said Nan, “you’re a walking cyclopædia of poetical quotations to-day.”
“And you’re a running commentary on them,” returned Patty, promptly, which remark sent Mr. Hepworth off in peals of laughter.