In Boston,
at Aunt Hester's, nobody ever thought much about what they wore, and I got
along all right, somehow, but this summer down at Aunt Grace's, my clothes
seemed to go to pieces all at once."
"Like the 'One-Hoss-Shay,'" said Aunt Alice, laughing. "Well, this is
indeed a sad state of affairs. But perhaps we can find a way out of the
difficulty."
"Yes, of course we can," said Patty, eagerly. "Papa sends me money whenever
I ask him for it; so if you'll buy me some clothes, he'll repay you at
once. I want everything. My things are no good at all."
"Wait, wait," said Aunt Alice, "don't dispose of your wardrobe in such a
summary way. Suppose we look it over together, and see what's best to be
done."
"All right," said Patty, "but I'm really ashamed to show you the miserable
lot."
"Why, Patty," said Aunt Alice, as she looked over the torn and crumpled
dresses and under-clothing, "these do seem to be unwearable, but they are
not hopelessly so. You see, the trouble is, they've been neglected, and
clothes, like plants or children, won't thrive under neglect.
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