“I know it!” cried Patty, throwing down her work, and flinging herself into her father’s arms. “I can’t do it, daddy, I can’t! I haven’t done one yet, and I never can do thirty-six!”
“Thirty-six!” exclaimed Nan. “Patty, are you crazy?”
“I think I must have been,” said Patty, laughing a little hysterically, as she took the great pile of centrepieces from a wardrobe, and threw them into Nan’s lap.
“But,—but you said a dozen!” said Nan, bewildered.
“Oh, no, I didn’t,” returned Patty. “You said, did I bring a dozen, and I said yes. Also, I brought two dozen more.”
“To do in a week!” said Nan, in an awe struck voice.
“Yes, to do in a week!” said Patty, mimicking Nan’s tones; and then they both laughed.
But Mr. Fairfield didn’t laugh. His limited knowledge of embroidery made him ignorant of how much work “three dozen” might mean, but he knew the effect it had already had on Patty, and he knew it was time to interfere.
“My child——” he began, but Patty interrupted him.
“Don’t waste words, daddy, dear,” she said. “It’s all over. I’ve tried and failed; but remember, this is only my first attempt.”