Patricia sighed. "I--I sort of wish Aunt Julia--looked at things the way
we do, Daddy."
They went on up to the house. On the back steps, Miss Kirby was waiting;
in the kitchen doorway stood Sarah.
"Patricia Kirby!" Aunt Julia exclaimed. "Well of all the--"
"Miss P'tricia," Sarah broke in wrathfully, "where's that cherry pie I
done made for Marse Doctor's supper?"
Patricia slowly drew up her uppermost apron. "It's here--most of it;
Custard got the rest. I--I stumbled and fell--into it. You see, we were
playing pirate--and we were smuggling."
The doctor, much to his sister's indignation, sat down suddenly on one
of the garden benches. "Oh, Pat, Pat!" he gasped.
"Patricia Kirby, how many gingham aprons have you on?" Miss Kirby
demanded.
"Three, Aunt Julia; you said I must wear the first one all the
afternoon--and I tore it--and then the pie sort of stained the second;
I got kind of interested to see how many it would take to get me through
the afternoon. I had to make it a gingham apron party, Aunt Julia, on
account of what you said yesterday. You see, I got pretty well torn and
dirty this morning--and, of course, I needn't have climbed that tree.
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