“Chickadee,” he said, “you’ll come out all right.  You have the true elements of success.  You see where you’ve fallen into error, you’re willing to admit it, and you’re ready to use every means to improve in the future.  I’m not quite so surprised as you are at the size of these bills; for, though we made our estimates rationally, yet we have been buying a great many things and having a pretty good time generally.  I foresaw this experience at the end of the month, but I preferred to wait and see how we came out rather than interfere with the proceedings; and another thing, Patty, which may comfort you some, is the fact that I quite believe that some of these tradespeople have taken advantage of your youth and inexperience and padded their bills a little bit in consequence.”

“But, papa, just look at Madame LaFayette’s bill.  I don’t think she ought to charge so much.”

“These do seem high prices for the simple little frocks you wear; but they are always so daintily made, and in such good taste, that I think we’ll have to continue to employ her.  Dressmakers, you know, are acknowledged vampires.”

“I like the clothes she makes, too,” said Patty, “but I had concluded that that was the best way for me to economise, and I thought after this I would make my own dresses.”

“I don’t think you will, my child,” said Mr. Fairfield decidedly.  “You couldn’t make dresses fit to be seen, unless you took a course of instruction in dressmaking, and I’m not sure that you could then; and you have quite enough to do with your school work and your practising.  When did you propose to do this wonderful sewing?”

“Oh, I mean in vacation—­to make my summer dresses.”

“No; in vacation you’re to run out of doors and play.  Don’t let me hear any more about sewing.”

“All right,” said Patty, with a sigh of relief.  “I’m awfully glad not to, but I wanted to help somehow.  I thought I’d make my green cloth costume for Diana in the play.”

“Yes, that would be a good thing to begin on,” said Mr. Fairfield.  “Broadcloth is so tractable, so easy to fit; and that tailor-made effect can, of course, be attained by any well-meaning beginner.”

Patty laughed.  “I know it would look horrid, papa,” she said, “but as I am to blame for all this outrageous extravagance, I want to economise somewhere to make up for it.”

“And do you call it good proportion to buy a great deal too much to eat and then go around in botchy, home-made clothes to make up for it?”

“No,” said Patty, “I don’t believe it is.  What can I do?  I want to do something, and I don’t—­oh, papa, I don’t want to give up those horses that you said you’d buy.”