ll
have plenty of time to auction 'em all off."

The rest of the day was spent most delightfully in establishing
themselves in the new home. It didn't take the girl long to put her
few belongings into the closets and drawers, but there were a thousand
little things to examine in the rooms and she made some important
discovery at every turn.

"Daddy," she said, impressively, "it must have cost a big fortune to
furnish these little rooms. They're full of very expensive things, and
none of the grand houses Madam Borne has sent me to is any finer than
ours. I'm sure the place is too good for us, who are working people.
Do you think we ought to stay here?"

"The Doyles," answered the Major, very seriously, "are one of the
greatest and most aristocratic families in all Ireland, which is the
most aristocratic country in the world. If I only had our pedigree I
could prove it to you easily. There's nothing too good for an Irish
gentleman, even if he condescends to bookkeeping to supply the
immediate necessities of life; and as you're me own daughter,
Patricia, though a Merrick on your poor sainted mother's side, you're
entitled to all you can get honestly. Am I right, Uncle John, or do I
flatter myself?"

Uncle John stroked the girl's head softly.

"You are quite right," he said. "There is nothing too good for a
brave, honest girl who's heart is in the right place."

"And that's Patsy," declared the Major, as if the question were
finally settled.

On Monday morning Mary had a dainty breakfast all ready for them at
seven o'clock, and Patsy and her father departed with light hearts for
their work. Uncle John rode part way down town with them.

"I'm going to buy my new suit, today, and a new necktie," he said.

"Don't let them rob you," was Patsy's parting injunction. "Is your
money all safe? And if you buy a ten dollar suit of clothes the dealer
ought to throw in the necktie to bind the bargain. And see that
they're all wool, Uncle John."

"What, the neckties?"

"No, the clothes. Good-bye, and don't be late to dinner. Mary might
scold."

"I'll remember. Good-bye, my dear."

Patsy was almost singing for joy when she walked into Madam Borne's
hair-dressing establishment.

"Don't take off your things," said the Madam, sharply, "Your services
are no longer required."

Patsy looked at her in amazement. Doubtless she hadn't heard aright.

"I have another girl in your place," continued Madam Borne, "so I'll
bid you