Patty Lyman! Don't you remember what's going to happen before
dinner?"

"O, you mean the wedding! I knew that ever so long ago."

Patty had heard of it the day before.

"Equal to Fourth of July and training-day put together," remarked Moses,
snatching a handful of raisins out of the bowl Mary held in her lap.

"Yes," said Patty, leaving off her spice-pounding long enough to clap
her hands; "it's splendid!"

"I don't see how you can say so," said the thoughtful Mary, "when our
dear sister Dorcas is going 'way off, and never'll live at home any
more!"

"Yes, I know it," responded Patty, looking as serious as she could, for
Mary was wiping her eyes on her apron. "It's dreadful! O, how bad I
feel!"

The kitchen was so full you could hardly turn around. Everybody was
there but Dorcas, and she was finishing off her wedding-dress. Mrs.
Lyman was stuffing two large turkeys; Betsey was making brown bread;
Moses chopping mince-meat; and those who had nothing else to do were
talking. Aunt Hannah was there, helping Rachel make the wedding-cake;
but the trouble was with aunt Hannah that she couldn't come without
bringing her baby; and there he was, rolling about the floor like a soft
bundle of yellow flannel--a nice, fat baby, with a ruffled cap on his
head. He was named Job, after his father, who had borne that name
through a long life, and been very patient about it.

"Now, Patty," said Rachel, "I see you've stopped pounding cloves, and I
wish you'd take care of this baby; he is rolling up towards the molasses
jug, and will tip it over next thing he does."

Patty had only stopped pounding for half a minute. It seemed to her that
her right hand always had a mortar-pestle in it. She ran now to get
some playthings for Job--a string of earthen-ware beads, and a pewter
plate to hold them when he should break the string; and a squash-shell,
filled with peas,--just as good as a rattle, let me tell you. Then she
sat on the floor, making baby-talk with the little creature, who has
since that been somebody's grandfather.

Patty always meant well, and now she was really able to help a great
deal. At ten years old she was quite a tall girl, though what the
country-folks called rather "slim." Her dress was made of thick cotton
and woollen goods, all rough with little knobs,--the same Rachel had
woven in "blue and copperas checks."

Patty soon tired of amusing Job. She wanted to do something of more
importance.

"I should think