I wish Mrs. Lyman could have known this, for she sometimes thought it was of no use to talk to Patty. I wish she could have known that years afterwards the dancing child would be comforted in many a trouble by these cheery words, "People don't work and wait for nothing, daughter." For you see it all came back to Patty when she was a woman. She saw a picture of her good mother dipping candles, with a steady, sober look on her face; and that picture always did her good.
I wonder if the little folks, even in these days, don't hear and heed more than they appear to? If so, their mammas ought to believe it, and take courage.
"Mother, why do you pour hot water into that kettle? Won't water put out candles?"
"Perhaps not; perhaps it will make the tallow rise to the top," said Mrs. Lyman, laughing.
"O, so it does. Isn't it such fun to dip candles? They grow as fast as you can wink. Mayn't I dip, please, mamma?"
"Who was it," replied Mrs. Lyman, with a quiet smile, "that said, 'I'd let 'em alone, and not try?'"
"O, but, mamma, that was when they didn't grow, you know."
"Well, dear, I'll let you dip in a rod by and by; I can't stop now."
Patty waited, but the "by and by" did not come. Mrs. Lyman seemed to have forgotten her promise; and about eight o'clock had to leave the candles a few minutes to give Dorcas some advice about the fitting of a dress. Dorcas was to take her mother's place; but just as she started for the kitchen, there was an outcry from Mary, who had cut her finger, and wanted it bound up.
"It's my by-and-by now," thought little Patty.