"The pins on the cushion spell 'Patricia,' don't they ?" "So they do!" cried Patsy, greatly delighted.
"And this room," continued the Major, passing into the next, "will be mine.

There are fine battle-scenes on the wall; and I declare, there's just the place for the colonel's photograph over the dresser!" "Cigars, too," said Patsy, opening a little cabinet; "but 'twill be a shame to smoke in this palace." "Then I won't live here!" declared the Major, stoutly, but no one heeded him.
"Here is Uncle John's room," exclaimed the girl, entering the third chamber.
"Mine ?" enquired Uncle John in mild surprise.
"Sure, sir; you're one of the family, and I'm glad it's as good as the Major's, every bit." Uncle John's eyes twinkled.
"I hope the bed is soft," he remarked, pressing it critically.
"It's as good as the old sofa, any day," said Patsy, indignantly.
Just then a bell tinkled, and after looking at one another in silent consternation for a moment, the Major tiptoed stealthily to the front door, followed by the others.
"What'll we do ?" asked Patsy, in distress.
"Better open it," suggested Uncle John, calmly.
The Major did so, and there was a little maid bowing and smiling outside.

She entered at once, closing the door behind her, and bowed again.
"This is my new mistress, I suppose," she said, looking at Patsy.

"I am your servant, Miss Patricia." Patsy gasped and stared at her.

The maid was not much older than she was, but she looked pleasant and intelligent and in keeping with the rooms.