Chapter 10

In one was seen a remarkably fine bun, with the lines--

'Who stole the hot bun And got burnt well? Go ask the lilac bush, Guess it can tell.'

In the next was a plump, tailless bird, who seemed to be saying mournfully--

'My little tail, my little tail! This bitter loss I still bewail; But rather ne'er have tail again Than Patty should deceive Aunt Pen.'

The third was less embarrassing, for it was a pretty bunch of flowers so daintily drawn one could almost think they smelt them, and these lines were underneath--

'Every flower to others given, Blossoms fair and sweet in heaven.'

The fourth was a picture of a curly-haired child sewing, with some very large tears rolling down her cheeks and tumbling off her lap like marbles, while some tiny sprites were catching and flying away with them as if they were very precious--

'Every tender drop that fell, Loving spirits caught and kept; And Patty's sorrows lighter grew, For the gentle tears she wept.'

'Oh, aunty! what does it all mean?' cried Patty, who had looked both pleased and ashamed as she glanced from one picture to the other.

'It means, dear, that the goods and bads got into the bed-quilt in spite of you, and there they are to tell their own story. The bun and the lost tail, the posy you took to poor Lizzie, and the trouble you bore so sweetly. It is just so with our lives, though we don't see it quite as clearly as this. Invisible hands paint our faults and virtues, and by-and-bye we have to see them, so we must be careful that they are good and lovely, and we are not ashamed to let the eyes that love us best read there the history of our lives.'

As Aunt Pen spoke, and Patty listened with a thoughtful face, mamma softly drew the pictured coverlet over her, and whispered, as she held her little daughter close--

'My Patty will remember this; and if all her years tell as good a story as this month, I shall not fear to read the record, and she will be in truth my little comforter.'

(FOR SECOND SERIES, SEE 'SHAWL-STRAPS.')

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