“Oh, Marian, it’s perfectly fearful!  Every bill is two or three times as much as I thought it would be, and I’m so sorry, for I meant to be such a thrifty housekeeper.”

“Jiminetty Christmas!” exclaimed Marian, looking at some of the papers, “I should think these bills were big!  Why, that’s more than we pay a month for groceries, and look at the size of our family.”

“I know it,” said Patty hopelessly.  “I don’t see how it happened.”

“You are an extravagant little wretch, Patty, there’s no doubt about it.”

“I suppose I am; at least, I suppose I have been, but I’m not going to be any more.  I’m going to reform, suddenly and all at once and very thoroughly!  Now, you watch me.  We’re not going to have any more fancy things, no more ice cream from Pacetti’s.  Why, that caterer’s bill is something fearful.”

“And so you’re going to starve poor Uncle Fred?”

“No, that wouldn’t be fair, would it?  The economy ought to fall entirely on me.  Well, I’ve decided to make my own clothes after this, anyway.”

“Oh, Patty, what a goose you are!  You couldn’t make them to save your neck, and after you made them you couldn’t wear them.”

“I could, too, Marian Elliott!  Just you wait and see me make my summer dresses.  I’m going to sew all through vacation.”

“All right,” said Marian, “I’ll come over and help you, but you can’t make any dresses this afternoon, so put away those old bills and get ready for a sleigh ride.  It’s lovely out, and father said he’d call for us here at four o’clock.”

“All right, I will, if we can get back by six.  I want to be here when papa comes home.”

“Yes, we’ll be back by six.  I expect Uncle Fred will shut you up in a dark room and keep you on bread and water for a week when he sees those bills.”

“That’s just the worst of it,” said Patty forlornly.  “He’s so good and kind, and spoils me so dreadfully that it makes me feel all the worse when I don’t do things right.”

A good long sleigh ride in the fresh, crisp winter air quite revived Patty’s despondent spirits.  She sat in front with Uncle Charley, and he let her drive part of the way, for it was Patty’s great delight to drive two horses, and she had already become a fairly accomplished little horsewoman.

“Fred tells me he’s going to get horses for you this spring,” said Uncle Charley.  “You’ll enjoy them a lot, won’t you, Patty?”

“Yes, indeed—­that is—­I don’t know whether we’ll have them or not.”

For it just occurred to Patty that, having run her father into such unexpected expense in the household, a good way to economise would be to give up all hopes of horses.

“Oh, yes, you’ll have them all right,” said Uncle Charley, in his gay, cheery way, having no idea, of course, what was in Patty’s mind.  “And you must have a little pony and cart of your own.  It would give you a great deal of pleasure to go out driving in the spring weather.”