"'Twill only be for me to go to school in," explained Patty. "I shall have it for my not-very-best. By and by I'm going to learn how to spin linen on that little flax-wheel, and Rachel will weave me some table-cloths, and sheets, and pillow-cases, just as she does for Dorcas. Guess why she weaves them for Dorcas."
"I'm sure I can't guess. Because she wants to, I suppose."
"Look here—it's a secret. Dorcas is going to be married by and by, and that is the reason Mr. Starbird comes here on that white-faced horse. He doesn't come to see the rest of us; he comes to see Dorcas."
Patty stopped her wheel in her eagerness.
"Yes; and you know, when I was a little speck of a girl, I spilled some hot tallow over, and burnt his hand; and he says that is the reason he is going to marry Dorcas."
"What! because you burnt his hand?"
"Yes. I don't see why that made him like Dorcas," said Patty, reflectively; "but that's what he said. And then I shall have eight brothers; won't it be nice?"
"Does Betsey Potter know?"
"Yes. I told her."
"Well, I should have thought you might have told me first," said Linda, pouting. "I don't like it very well to have you tell me last."