Grandmother shook her head.

The next morning at breakfast she announced that she felt the need of more regular exercise, and she thought she should take a short walk every morning.

“Ah!” Dr. Kirby said, “about what time?”

“I should think—­about half past eight,” Mrs. Cory answered.

“A short walk before breakfast is considered more beneficial by some.”

Miss Kirby looked interested.  “There are a good many pretty walks about Belham,” she said.

When Patricia came down the path, her strap of books over her shoulder, and a get-there-early-or-die expression on her face, Mrs. Cory was just turning out of the gate.

“Are you going in my direction, grandmother?” Patricia asked; and grandmother replied that she was.

Later, sauntering slowly homewards, Mrs. Cory met the doctor.  He drew rein.  “Well?” he asked.

She laughed softly.  “Patrick, if you’d been with us!  It was like making a royal progress.  There were exactly six babies, and I quite lost count of the dogs, not to mention several old ladies, all waiting to pass the time of day with Patricia.  My only wonder is that she ever gets to school at all.  Patrick, I don’t believe you realize what a dear child she is.”

“Don’t I!”

Mrs. Cory stood a moment looking down the pleasant tree-bordered street.  She had not been in Belham before since the death of Patricia’s mother, more than eight years ago, having been abroad most of the time.  Now she found herself regretting this long absence.  She had been missing a good deal—­she would like to have had some share in Patricia’s life all these years.

“I was beautifully early this morning,” Patricia announced proudly at the table that noon.

“And you will be this afternoon?” grandmother asked.

“I’m not so apt to be late afternoons,” Patricia answered; “I suppose it’s just happened that way.”

The next morning after breakfast, Patricia lingered.  “Are you going my way this morning, grandmother?”

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Cory answered.

Patricia caught the smile in her father’s eyes and wondered.

Half-way to school she suddenly stopped.  “Grandmother, you’re doing it on purpose—­to make me get there early!”

Mrs. Cory smiled.  “You see I didn’t want to lose my treat, Patricia.”

When Friday noon came Patricia had not one tardy mark for those four days; and on that same Friday noon she met her Waterloo.

It was the Dixon baby who caused her downfall.

He was one of Patricia’s most ardent admirers; and when he saw her coming that noon he made as straight for her as his very shaky two-year-old legs would allow.  Of course he tumbled down and scratched his snubby little nose; and of course Patricia stopped to pet and comfort him, carrying him back to the house.  “Mrs. Dixon,” she called from the gate, “oh, Mrs. Dixon!”