"Then, of course, we ought to have a coop to keep our neighbours'

chickens in," said Mr. Fairfield; "and if this cottage is as delightful as Miss Russell makes it out, I think it's our duty at least to go and look at it. If the rest of you are willing, suppose we go over there first, and then if we _should_ decide not to take it, we'll have time to investigate the Bigelow afterward"

Marian looked so woe-begone that Patty laughed.

"Cheer up, girl," she said; "there isn't one chance in a million of our taking that doll's house, but Laura will never give us a minute's peace until we go and look at it; so we may as well go now, and get it over."

"All right," said Marian; and Patty, with her two girl friends on either side of her, started in the direction of the cottage.

But when they reached it, Mr. Fairfield exclaimed in amazement. "That little house?" he said. "Oh, I see; that's the chicken-coop you spoke of.

Well, where is the house?"

"This is the house," said Laura; "but, somehow, it does look smaller than usual; still, it's a great deal bigger inside."

"No doubt," said Frank. "I've often noticed that the inside of a house is much larger than the outside. Of course, we can't all go in at once, but I'm willing to wait my turn. Who will go first?"

"Very well, you may stay outside," said Laura. "I think the rest of us can all squeeze in at once, if we try."

But Frank followed the rest of the party, and, pa.s.sing through the narrow hall, they entered the tiny parlour.

"I never was in such a crowded room," said Marian. "I can scarcely get my breath. I had no idea there were so many of us."

"Well, you're not going to live here," said Laura. "There's room enough for just Patty and her father."

"There is, if we each take a room to ourself," said Mr. Fairfield. "You may have this parlour, my daughter, and I'll take the library. Where is the library, Miss Russell?"

"I think it has just stepped out," said Frank; "at any rate, it isn't on this floor; there's only this room, and the dining-room, and a kitchen cupboard."

"Very likely the library is on the third floor," said Marian; "that would be convenient."

"There isn't any third floor," explained Laura. "This is what they call a story-and-a-half house."

"It would have to be expanded into a serial story, then, before it would do for us," said Mr. Fairfield. "We may not be such big people, but Patty and I have a pretty large estimate of ourselves, and I am sure we never could live in such a short-story-and-a-half as this seems to be."

"Indeed, we couldn't, papa," said Patty. "Just look at this dining-room.

I'm sure it's only big enough for one. We would have to have our meals alternately; you could have breakfast, and I would have dinner one day, and the next day we'd reverse the order."

"Come, look at the kitchen, Patty," called out Frank; "or at least stick your head in; there isn't room for all of you. See the stationary tubs.

Two of them, you see; each just the size of a good comfortable coffee-cup."

"Just exactly," said Patty, laughing; "why, I never saw such a house.

Laura Russell, what were you thinking of?"

"Oh, of course, you could add to it," said Laura. "You could build on as many more rooms as you wanted, and you could run it up another story and a half, and that would make three stories; and I do want you to live near me."

"We're sorry not to live near you, Miss Laura," said Mr. Fairfield; "but I can't see my way clear to do it unless you would move into this bandbox, and let us have your roomy and comfortable mansion next door."

"Oh, there wouldn't be room for our family here," said Laura.

"But you could build on a whole lot of rooms," said Frank, "and add enough stories to make it a sky-sc.r.a.per; and put in an elevator, and it would be perfectly lovely."

Laura laughed with the rest, and then, at Mrs. Elliott's suggestion, they all started back to the Bigelow house.

"Now, this is something like," said Marian, as they went in at the gate and up the broad front walk.

"Like what?" said Frank.

"Like a home for the Fairfields. What shall you call it--Fairfield Hall, Fairfield Place, or what?"

"I don't know," cried Patty, dashing up the veranda steps. "But isn't it a dear house! I feel at home here already. This big piazza will be lovely in warm weather. There's room for hammocks, and big chairs, and little tables, and everything."

Inside, the house proved very attractive. The large square hall opened into a parlour on one side and a library on the other. Back of the library was a little conservatory, and beyond that a large, light dining-room with an open fireplace.

"Here's a kitchen worth having," said Aunt Alice, who was investigating ahead of the rest; "and such convenient pantries and cupboards."

"And this back veranda is great," said Frank, opening the door from a little hall.

"Oh, yes," said Patty; "see the dead vines. In the summer it must have honeysuckles all over it. And there's the little arbour at the foot of the garden. I'm going down to see it."

Marian started to follow her, but Laura called her back to show her some new attraction, and Patty ran alone down the veranda steps, and through the box-bordered paths to the little rustic arbour.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, as she reached it. "Who in the world are you?"

For inside the arbour sat a strange-looking girl of about Patty's own age. She was a tall, thin child, with a pale face, large black eyes, and straight black hair, which hung in wisps about her ears.

"I'm Pansy," she said, clasping her hands in front of her, and looking straight into Patty's face.

"You're Pansy, are you?" said Patty, looking puzzled. "And what are you doing here, Pansy?"

"Well, miss, you see it's this way. I want to go out to service; and when I heard you was going to have a house of your own, I thought maybe you'd take me to work for you."

"Oh, you did! Well, why didn't you come and apply to me, then, in proper fashion, and not sit out here waiting for me to come to you? Suppose I hadn't come?"

"I was sure you'd come, miss. Everybody who looks at this house comes out to look at the arbour; but there hasn't been anybody before that I wanted to work for. Please take me, miss; I'll be faithful and true."

"What can you do?" asked Patty, half laughing, and half pitying the strange-looking girl. "Can you cook?"

"No, ma'am, I can't cook; but I might learn it. But I didn't mean that. I thought you'd have a cook, and you'd take me for a table girl, you know; and to tidy up after you."

"I do want a waitress; but have you had any experience?"

"No, ma'am," said the girl very earnestly, "I haven't, but I'm just sure I could learn. If you just tell me a thing once, you needn't ever tell it to me again. That's something, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is," said Patty, remembering a certain careless waitress at Mrs. Elliott's. "Have you any references?"

"No," said the girl, smiling; "you see, I've never lived anywhere except home, and I suppose mother's reference wouldn't count."

"It would with me," said Patty decidedly. "I think your mother ought to know more about you than anybody else. What would she say if I asked her?"

"She'd say I was careless and heedless and thoughtless, and didn't know anything," replied the girl cheerfully; "and I am that way at home, but I wouldn't be if I worked for you, because I want to be a waitress, and a good one; and you'd see how quick I'd learn. Oh, do take me, miss. You'll never be sorry, and that's sure!"