There was not a soul in the kitchen to attend to those candles. Deary me, and the tallow growing so cold! Wasn't it Patty's duty to help?
Of course it was; and seating her little self with much dignity in the chair from which her mother had just risen, and propping her feet on the round, she took up the business where it was left off. It seemed the easiest thing in the world to flash those round white candles into the kettle and out again; but they were a great deal heavier than she had supposed. After she had dipped two or three rods her arm felt very tired. How could mamma do it so fast, without stopping one bit?
A bright thought seized Patty, as bright as all those dozen-dozen candles burning in a row.
"Guess I'll dip 'em slow; then there'll be more tallow stick on."
Strange mamma hadn't thought of that herself; but mammas can't think of everything, they have so much to do. Patty swayed a rod full of candles from side to side in the kettle, not perceiving that they were melting to their heart's cores. When she took them out they dripped great tears, and as she held them up, wondering why they hadn't grown any, the kitchen door opened, and some one walked in.
Who it was Patty could not see, for her face was turned away; but what if it should be brother James, and he should call out,
"Well, Snippet, up to mischief, hey?"
The very thought of such a speech frightened her so that she set her row of candles across the chairs in great haste, hitting them against another row, where they stuck fast.
"Good evening, miss," said a strange voice.
Patty turned her head, and there, instead of James, stood a handsome young gentleman she had never seen before. She knew at once it must be the new teacher.