"How can you
be so good-natured and gay when my heart is breaking?"
"Oh, don't let your heart break over such prosaic things as dinners!
We'll crawl out of this hole somehow."
"But what can we do, papa? It's after six o'clock, and all the markets
are shut up, and there isn't a thing in the house except those horrible
things I tried to make."
"Patty," said her father, struck by a sudden thought, "to-morrow is
Sunday. Do you mean to say you haven't ordered for over Sunday?"
"No, I haven't," said Patty, aghast at the enormity of her offence.
Mr. Fairfield laughed at the horror-stricken look on his daughter's face.
"I always thought you couldn't keep house," he said, with an air of
resignation. "On Monday I shall advertise for a housekeeper."
"Oh, please don't," pleaded Patty. "Give me one more trial. I've had a
good lesson, and truly I'll profit by it. Let me try again."
"But you can't try again before Monday, and by that time we'll all be
dead of starvation."
"Of course we will," said Patty despairingly. "I wish we were Robinson
Crusoes and could eat bark or something."
"Well, baby, I think you _have_ had a pretty good lesson, and we can't
put old heads on young shoulders all at once, so I'll help you out this
time, and then, the next time you go back on me in this heartless
fashion, I'll discharge you."
"Papa, you're a _dear_! But what can we do?"
"Well, the first thing for you to do is to go and brush your hair and
make yourself tidy, then come down and meet Mr.
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