brass kettle from
the crane, and placed it on a board just in front of the brick hearth,
not far from the creeping chairs; and then Mrs. Lyman sat down to dip
candles.

In the first place, when she put the pieces of wicking into the kettle
of hot tallow and took them out again, they looked like greasy strings,
and nothing else. One after another she dipped them in and drew them
out, dipped them in and drew them out, and set them carefully back in
their places across the fence.

Patty and Moses looked on with great Interest.

"How slow they are!" said Moses. "I've kept count, and you've dipped
more'n a hundred sticks, and you haven't made one candle yet."

"Rome wasn't built in a day," said Mrs. Lyman, going back to the very
beginning, and dipping the first row over again.

"I don't know what Rome is," said Patty.

"Well, I wouldn't fuss with those strings," observed Moses; "why, this
makes twice, and they're no bigger round yet than slate pencils."

"I'd let 'em alone," said Patty, "and not try."

"Moses, you might as well run off and see if father wants you," said
Mrs. Lyman; "and, Patience, I know Dorcas would like some cloves
pounded."

In about an hour Patty was back again. The candles had grown, but only a
very little. They were no larger yet than _lead_ pencils. And there sat
Mrs. Lyman with a steady, sober look on her face, as if she had made up
her mind to wait and let them take their time to grow.

"What slow candles!" cried Patty.

"Patience, dear," said Mrs. Lyman, smiling.

"There, mamma, you said Patience, but you didn't mean me; you meant the
_good_ kind of patience."

"Yes, I meant the patience that works and waits. Now go and wash some
potatoes for to-morrow's breakfast, and then you may come again and
look."

"When Patty came the second time, she exclaimed, with delight,

"O, mamma, they're as big round as candy! Wish _'twas_ candy; wouldn't I
eat?"

Mrs. Lyman began again at the first row.

"Why, mamma Lyman, true's you live I can begin to see 'em grow!"

"You are right," said her mother. "People don't work and wait, all for
nothing, daughter."

"Yankee Doodle came to town," sang Patty, dancing the time to the tune,
as if she did not hear her mother's words. But she did hear them, and
was putting them away in her memory, along with a thousand other things
which had been said to her, and which she had not seemed to hear at the
time.

I wish Mrs. Lyman could have known this, f