But the old haircloth scratched her bare feet, and poor Patty soon jumped up and sought another resting-place.
She cuddled up in a big armchair which was soft and warm, and there she soon fell asleep. But later, she awoke, so stiff from her cramped position, that she could scarcely move. So then she lay down on the floor and slept there the rest of the night.
Next morning she dressed herself and went down-stairs at about eight o'clock, but nobody was in sight, so Patty went out on the veranda and watched the waves as they came rolling and tumbling up on the beach.
Then, with a view to exploring her new home, she walked round the house.
This brought her to the kitchen, and through the window she saw a fat old black woman raking vigorously at the range.
"Dis yer stove 'll make me lose my 'ligion," Patty heard her murmur, and she felt sure she was listening to old Hopalong. "Good-morning, Hopalong," she cried.
"'Mawnin', missy; an' who be you?"
