“Always,” said Nancy.
There were two thoughts, two pictures in her mind. She was thinking of Dorothy's first party, when, as a little outcast, she had climbed up into the branches of a tree which overhung the great garden, that thus she might peep at the lovely children in their beautiful frocks; now, as Dorothy's friend and playmate, she had enjoyed this fancy dress party, in a costume as charming as that of any guest.
She was happy now, and how dearly she loved Dorothy, how grateful she was for her home and friends!
For days they talked of nothing but the party, and Aunt Charlotte found it a little difficult to keep them from whispering about it during school hours.
Three little guests who had intended to come, had, at the last moment, been obliged to remain at home. They were Mr. Dainty's nephews, and they had been much disappointed in losing a charming visit in which a fine party was to have been included.
Patricia, with her usual lack of sweetness, told Arabella that she did not believe that those three boys had ever thought of coming.
“Well, anyway, we were there, and we had a fine time, but say,—there weren't two fountains after all!” said Arabella.
“Why, what a thing to say, when I showed you the second one, only it didn't work right,” Patricia replied. “The way I turned it made steam, so if I'd only just turned it the other way it would have been water.”
“How do you know it would?” Arabella asked in a teasing voice.
“How do you know it wouldn't?” Patricia replied, and Arabella chose to make no reply.