The woman looked at her with some curiosity.

"It's about three miles," she said. "You go up this road and turn to your left about a mile on, just before you come to the factories.

You pa.s.s by them and keep straight on."

"Thank you," said Patty. Then seeing piles of rosy apples, boxes of crackers, and such eatables, she realized that she was very hungry.

"Will you tell me what time it is?" she said.

The woman looked up at a big clock over the door. "It is after two,"

she said, "about quarter past."

"Oh, dear," Patty looked at Marian, "we can't get back to dinner."

Suddenly all the joys of a gypsy life faded away. She looked at the apples, felt in her coat pocket for her five cents, and fortunately found it. "How much are those apples?" she asked.

"Ten cents a quarter peck," the woman told her.

"Oh, I meant how much apiece."

"I guess you can have 'em for a cent apiece. There'll be about ten in a quarter, I expect."

"Then I'll take two." The woman picked out two fine red ones and handed them to her. "I have three cents left," said Patty. "What shall I get, Marian?" Her eyes roved along the shelves.

"That soft mixture's nice," said the woman, "and it's right fresh."

"Can I get three cents' worth?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then I'll take it."

The woman took down a box of mixed cakes and weighed out the necessary amount. Patty gave the five cents and the two little girls left the store.

"I never was so hungry," said Patty, her teeth immediately seeking the apple.

"Nor I," said Marian, following her example. And they trudged along munching the apples till they reached the top of the hill. They could see the factory chimneys in the distance and knew they could find their way, though both dreaded to pa.s.s the neighborhood of the rude girls who must live near the factory. They almost held their breath as they approached the spot, but they got by safely, and toiled on toward home, two thoroughly weary, disgusted little girls.

"It wasn't much fun," said Marian plaintively, as they neared the house.

"I shall never, never want to go that way again," said Patty contritely. "We haven't had any real dinner; I've spent my five cents, and you've lost Patty Wee."

At the thought of this last disaster Marian's eyes filled. "Don't feel so," said Patty in distress. "I'll buy you another the very first time I go to the city. I know Dolly will give me five cents."

"But it won't be Patty Wee," said Marian mournfully.

Patty was honest enough to go straight to her sister Emily with the whole story of the morning's trouble. "You knew you were disobedient, didn't you, Patty?" said Emily gently. "Now you see why daddy always forbade your going down that way. He knows those factory people are a rough set."

Patty hung her head. "I know I was as bad as could be, Emily, but I'll never do it again."

"The worst part is that you led Marian into it, for she didn't know, as you did, that you mustn't go that way. You say those girls struck her, and took her doll away from her. I think she had the worst of it, and yet it was all your fault, Patty."

"Oh, dear, oh, dear, I am wickeder than I thought," sobbed Patty.

"What can I do, Emily, to make up for it? I will do anything you think I ought. I spent my five cents and I haven't any more to get another Patty Wee."

"If you will go without dessert for a week I will give you five cents to buy another doll. I think you have had punishment enough otherwise, but you can't make up to Marian for having those girls treat her so."

Patty's tears flowed afresh, but she agreed to give up what meant a great deal to her.

However, the five cents did not go toward buying another Patty Wee, for when Patty told her brothers of the morning's adventure, they looked at each other knowingly, and a little later on plotted together in the shed. So a few days after they triumphantly appeared with the lost Patty Wee which they restored to the delighted Marian.

They would never tell how they recovered the doll, but Pearl and Evelina have memories of three big determined boys bearing down upon them when they were playing under the big tree, boys who demanded a doll taken by force, and having great respect for manly strength the girls gave up Patty Wee without a word.

_CHAPTER XI_

_A Letter's Reply_

The lovely Indian summer was over, and Thanksgiving Day pa.s.sed happily. It was a great time for Marian, for Miss Dorothy was home for several days and together they planned the book of photographs to be sent to Marian's father. "I think it would better go in ample time," said Miss Dorothy, "for at Christmas time there will be such budgets going that we must be sure to get ours in before the rush begins. I should give it two or three weeks anyhow, and even if it does get there too soon, that will be better than too late."

"Don't you think it is time I was getting an answer to my letter?"

asked Marian.

"It is high time, but perhaps your father has been away, and has not had his mail forwarded."

And indeed that was exactly the way of it as was proved the very next day when the morning's mail brought Marian her long-looked-for letter. She trembled with excitement when Mr. Robbins placed it in her hands, and her eyes eagerly sought Miss Dorothy. "Won't you go with me somewhere and read it to me?" she whispered.

Miss Dorothy hesitated. "Perhaps your father has written it for your eyes alone."

"But suppose I can't read it."

"Well, then we'll go to my room and you can open it there. If you can't read it I'll help you out. Will that do?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, dearest Miss Dorothy." Marian had learned from Patty to use many endearing terms.

They went up-stairs to the pleasant front room with its pretty paper and hangings of roses on a creamy ground, and by the window they sat down while Marian carefully opened the envelope. As she unfolded the sheet of paper it held, something fell out in her lap. "It is a photograph of papa," she cried as she picked it up. "I never had one of my very own, and see, Miss Dorothy, the letter is typewritten so I can read it quite easily, but please sit by me while I see what he says."

It was a long, loving letter in which the writer spoke of the pleasure it had been to him to hear from his little daughter, of how her accounts of her daily life had taken him back to his own childhood, and of how often he thought of her and longed to see her.

"If I thought it best, my dear little daughter," he said, "I should not let the ocean roll between us, though some day I hope you can come to me if I may not go to you." There were many more things, entertaining descriptions of the places to which he had lately been, accounts of his doings and his friends, the whole ending with a request that Marian would write as often as she could. As she finished the closing lines Marian held out the letter to Miss Dorothy. "Do read it," she said. "I know he would not care. There isn't anything in it that you mustn't see. I'd like you to read it out loud to me, Miss Dorothy; I can't quite get the sense of it myself." So Miss Dorothy did as she was requested and agreed with Marian that it was a very nice letter, that her father did love her, and that the reason he did not come home was because he felt he would not be welcome.

After this it was an all-important matter to get the photographs ready to send and to write a letter in answer to the one Marian had just received. Patty was very much interested in the photographs, for besides those taken in Greenville of Marian and the cats in the garden, of Marian at school, in the sitting-room with her grandparents, in her own room and in Mrs. Hunt's kitchen, there were a number taken in Revell where various members of the Robbins family appeared and where Patty herself was always a conspicuous figure. But the very last one was of Marian alone with arms outstretched and face upheld for a kiss. Under it was written, "A hug and kiss for you, dear papa, when you come back to your little Marian." This was the child's own idea, and Miss Dorothy carried it out as well as she could.

"Just think," Marian said to Patty, "how much better I know my papa, and I shall keep on knowing him better and better."

"Shall you show your grans the photographs, and the one of him?"

asked Patty.

"Yes," returned Marian thoughtfully, "Miss Dorothy thinks I ought to, and that I shall have to tell about my writing to him. I think grandma will be glad, and maybe grandpa will be, too, though he won't say so."

Miss Dorothy overhearing this wise remark, smiled. She quite believed that both Mr. and Mrs. Otway would be glad.