f Patricia's heart.

This new grandmother was the best of chums and companions, but somehow
it was hard to realize that she was really a _grandmother_. And
before Patricia's inward gaze would pass the picture of a little
white-capped old lady, quietly knitting at one corner of the fireplace;
an old lady whose big Dutch pocket held an unfailing supply of ginger
nuts and peppermint drops, whose stories were all of those far-off days
when "I was a little girl."

But only at times; as a rule these days were too full for Patricia to
find time for inner visions.

"You're the luckiest girl, Patricia Kirby," Patricia's particular chum,
Nell Hardy, declared one morning on the way to school. "I think Mrs.
Cory's perfectly lovely; she always acts as if she was ever so glad to
see you."

Patricia swung her strap of books thoughtfully. "Daddy says she has a
beautiful manner. I'm going to be just like her."

Nell's quick glance was hardly flattering. "When?"

"Anyhow, she's _my_ grandmother!" Patricia retorted; she shook out
her short skirts, if only she could have silk linings. Clothes were
beginning to take on new meanings for Patricia.

"We'd better hurry," Nell said, "or we'll be late."

"Grandmother never really hurries."

"Maybe she did when she was going to school; there's the bell now!"

"Bet I'll be there first," Patricia said, darting ahead.

But she wasn't; it seemed as if all the babies and dogs in town chose
that particular moment to get right in her path, avoiding with equal
skill Nell's eager rush. What with picking up a baby here and stopping
to speak to one there--Patricia never could get by babies--Patricia
reached the schoolhouse just too late to join her line and had to wait
outside until the opening exercises were over.

It was by no means the first time; and Miss Carrol looked very grave as
Patricia slipped into her place a little later, trying to ignore Nell's
bob of triumph.

It was after supper that evening that the doctor called Patricia into
the office. "Patricia," he said, as she came to stand before him, "I met
Miss Carrol this afternoon."

"Yes, Daddy." Patricia's thoughts flew rapidly backward; had she been
doing anything very dreadful?

"She tells me that you have been tardy very frequently of late,
Patricia."

"Y-yes, Daddy."

"And yet you usually appear to start in good season?"

"Yes, Daddy; it--it doesn't seem to be the _starting_ early.
It's--such a lot of things always do