Patty's Success Part 20

"Oh, it's too easy!" she thought, as in a short time the twenty-four seams were neatly st.i.tched.

"Now, for the hems."

These were a little more troublesome, as they had to be folded and basted; but still, it was an easy task, and Patty worked away like a busy bee.

"Now for the babykins' sleeves," she said, but just then the luncheon gong sounded.

"Not really!" cried Patty, aloud, as she glanced at her watch.

But in very truth it was one o'clock, and it was a thoughtful Patty who walked slowly downstairs.

"Nan," she exclaimed, "the trouble with an occupation is, that there's not time enough in a day, or a half-day, to do anything."

Nan nodded her head sagaciously.

"I've always noticed that," she said. "It's only when you're playing, that there's any time. If you try to work, there's no time at all."

"Not a bit!" echoed Patty, "and what there is, glides through your fingers before you know it."

She hurried through her luncheon, and returned to the sewing-room. She was not tired, but there was a great deal yet to do.

The tiny sleeves she put through the machine, one after another, until she had twenty-four in a long chain, linked by a single st.i.tch.

"Oh, method and system accomplish wonders," she thought, as she snipped the sleeves apart, and rapidly folded hems round the little wrists.

But even with method and system, twenty-four is a large number, and as Patty turned the last hem, twilight fell, and she turned on the lights.

"Goodness, gracious!" she thought. "I've yet all these sleeves to set, and st.i.tch in, and the fronts to finish off; and a b.u.t.tonhole to work in each neckband."

But it was only half-past four, and by half-past six they were all finished but the b.u.t.tonholes.

And Patty was nearly finished, too!

She had not realised how physically tired she was. Running the sewing-machine all day was an unusual exertion, and when she reached her own room, with her arms full of the little white garments, she threw them on the bed, and threw herself on the couch, weary in every bone and muscle.

"Well, what luck?" said Nan, appearing at Patty's doorway, herself all dressed for dinner.

"Oh, Nan," cried Patty, laughing, "me legs is broke; and me arms is broke; and me back is broke. But I'm not nervous or worried, and I'm going to win out this time! But, Nan, I just _can't_ go down to dinner.

Send Jane up with a tray,--there's a dear. And tell father I'm all right, but I don't care to mingle in society to-night."

"Well, I'm glad you're in good spirits," said Nan, half annoyed, half laughing, as she saw the pile of white work on the bed.

"Run along, Nan, there's a good lady," said Patty, jumping up, and urging Nan out the door. "Skippy-skip, before father comes up to learn the latest news from the seat of war. Tell him everything is all right, and I'm earning my living with neatness and despatch, only working girls simply can't get into chiffons and dine with the 'quality.'"

Rea.s.sured by Patty's gay air, Nan went downstairs, laughing, and told her husband that she believed Patty would yet accomplish her project.

"These experiences will do her no harm," said Mr. Fairfield, after hearing Nan's story. "So long as she doesn't get nervous or mentally upset, we'll let her go on with her experiment. She's a peculiar nature, and has a wonderful amount of will-power for one so young."

"I've always heard you were called stubborn," said Nan, smiling, "though I've never seen it specially exemplified in your case."

"One doesn't need to be stubborn with such an angelic disposition as yours in the house," he returned, and Nan smiled happily, for she knew the words were lovingly in earnest.

Meantime, Patty was sitting luxuriously in a big easy-chair, eating her dinner from the tray Jane had brought her.

"This is rather fun," she thought; "and my, but running a sewing-machine does give one an appet.i.te! I could eat two trays-full, I verily believe.

Thank goodness, I've no more st.i.tching to do."

Having despatched her dinner, perhaps a trifle hastily, Patty reluctantly left her big easy-chair for a small rocker by the drop-light.

She wearily picked up a little gown, cut a b.u.t.tonhole at the throat, and proceeded to work it. As she was so skilful at embroidery, of course this was easy work; but Patty was tired, and her fingers almost refused to push the needle through the cloth. About ten o'clock Nan came upstairs.

Patty was just sewing on the last b.u.t.ton, the b.u.t.tonholes being all done.

This fact made her jubilant.

"Nan!" she cried; "what _do_ you think! I've made a whole dozen of these baby-slips to-day!"

"Patty! You don't mean it! Why, my dear child, how could you?"

"On the machine. And they're done neatly, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are, indeed. But Patty----"

"What?"

"I hate to tell you,--but----"

"Oh, what is it, Nan? Is the material wrong side out?"

"No, you goosie, there's no right or wrong side to cotton cloth, but----"

"Well, tell me!"

"Every one of these little sleeves is made upside down!"

"Oh, Nan! It can't be!"

"Yes, they are, dearie. See, this wider part should have been at the top."

"Oh, Nan, what shall I do? I thought they were sort of flowing sleeves, you know. Kimono-shaped ones, I mean."

"No; they're set wrong. Oh, Patty, why didn't you let me help you? But you told me to keep away."

"Yes, I know I did. Now, I've spoiled the whole dozen! I like them just as well that way, myself, but I know they'll 'deduct' for it."

"Patty, I don't think you ought to do 'white work' anyway. How much are they going to pay you?"

"A dollar a dozen."