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Updated: June 26, 2025
"I shore told you, that young-un was a limb," Sarah muttered. "Sarah was very anxious to fix me all up properly, Aunt Julia," Patricia went on, "but of course, after you had said and I thought you'd feel better if the rest wore gingham aprons too. Sarah was very kind about it though," with a smile in her direction. "You go 'long, Miss P'tricia," Sarah protested. Miss Kirby bit her lip.
"Miss P'tricia, you's shore possessed to-day!" "Aunt Julia said yesterday morning, that the very next time I got myself torn or dirty, needlessly, I must put a clean gingham apron on and go that way for the rest of the day." "But, honey you know Miss Julia never 'tended you to come to your own party in any such fixings! A gingham apron at a party!
"I think it will now," Patricia answered; her tone so full of some hidden enjoyment that Sarah glanced at her suspiciously. "Miss Julia, she done left word for you-un to do everything like you know she'd want you to, Miss P'tricia." Patricia selected a pair of earrings from the finest of Sarah's bowl of cherries. "Don't you worry, Sarah."
Patricia rolled over on her back, stretching her wiry little frame out lazily. "You come right 'long into dis yere house, Miss P'tricia!" Sarah rose commandingly. "But what for?" Patricia questioned. "What for? If you wasn't a white child, Miss P'tricia, I'd shore say you was onery. I's going be 'bliged to disport you to your pa, if you continues such disbehavior."
"Oh, I ain't overlooking that you're powerful reconciled to going to your own party dressed like you is now, Miss P'tricia! Anyhow, you're going to have a good wash-up and your hair combed; Miss Julia ain't laid down no commands against that." "W-well," Patricia slowly conceded, "only I'll see to it myself, Sarah."
'Tic'larly beds all ready fo' comp'ny!" Patricia slipped hurriedly to her feet; but by this time Sarah had caught sight of something else. "Land sakes, Miss P'tricia! Ef yo' isn't gone an' tuk Miss Julia's punchbowl what she don't 'low no one but herse'f to tech!" Patricia put an arm around Sarah's waist, or rather, around as much of it as she could encompass.
"And if Susy Vail hasn't a gingham apron, I'll lend her one; she seems the sort of girl not to have one," Patricia confided to Custard, as they once more made their way towards the house. If only the coast were clear! Sarah was on the back piazza, pitting cherries, but Sarah was easily managed. "My sakes, Miss P'tricia!" Sarah lifted her plump hands in horror, "whatever is you-un been up to now?"
Patricia implored. "Nell, what does your mother do when your brothers cry like this?" "They don't cry like this," Nell answered, trying desperately to quiet Lydia. "Mebbe next time, Miss P'tricia," Sarah's tone was strictly of the "I-told-you-so" order, "yo' won't go 'vitin' a whole tribe o' young uns, widout resultin' any one."
"Where's Aunt Julia, Sarah?" "Done left for Gar's Hollow just five minutes ago, your pa sent Jim back for her in the gig. What you say, Miss P'tricia?" For under her breath, Patrica was saying jubilantly: "It's providential!" "N-nothing that is, I was only thinking out loud," she told Sarah. "Don't you go worrying 'bout dat ere party, honey; hit'll come off all right."
Patricia scrambled to her feet, and came slowly over to the edge of the lawn. Then, lifting her apron, she asked quietly: "Is my frock torn, Sarah, or isn't it?" "You knows it is, Miss P'tricia!" Patricia stretched out one slender leg. "Is my stocking torn, or isn't it?" Sarah groaned. Wheeling suddenly round, and still holding up her apron, Patricia demanded: "Is my frock dirty, or isn't it?"
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