Patty was so much interested in the little girl's story, that she almost wanted to give her the silver dollar on the spot, but not quite. She ran into the bedroom to ask her mother what it was best to do.
"Why, I thought I fastened that door," cried John, flourishing a paint-brush in her face. "Scamper, or you'll get some paint on your gown."
Patty scampered, but not before she had stained her dress.
"Where is mother?" asked she of Dorcas.
"In the parlor; but don't go in there, child, for the doctor's wife is making a call, and Mrs. Chase, too."
Patty did not wait for Dorcas to finish the sentence, but rushed into the parlor, out of breath. I am afraid she was rather glad to let the doctor's wife know she had some money, and thought of giving it away. Patty was not a bold child, but there were times when she did like to show off.
"O, mother, mother!" cried she, without stopping to look at the ladies. "Let me have my silver dollar this minute! 'Cause there's a poor little—"
"My child," said Mrs. Lyman, in a tone which checked Patty, and made her blush to the roots of her yellow hair.
"Pray, let her finish her story," said the doctor's wife, drawing the little one to her side; "it's something worth hearing, I know."
"It's a little girl," replied Patty, casting down her eyes, "and her mother is dead and her father is drunk."