"Not yet."
"They say mine isn't but I hate the whooping part. I hope it won't get worse."
"I'm afraid it will, for we've only begun to whoop and they say it takes a long time to get over it."
"Oh, those old they-says always are telling you something horrid. Come, let me show you the boys' puppies before it gets too dark to see them; they're out in the shed."
"Oh, I'd love to see them." Marian despatched the remainder of her cake and was ready to follow Patty out-of-doors to where five tiny fox terriers were nosing around their little mother. They were duly admired, then Patty showed the pigeons and the one rabbit. By this time it was quite dark, so they returned to the house to see the family of dolls who lived in a pleasant room up-stairs.
"This is where we are to have lessons," Patty told her guest. "Isn't it nice? Those two little tables are to be ours, and Emily will sit in that chair by the window. We arranged it all. These are my books." She dropped on her knees before a row of low book shelves.
"Oh, how many," exclaimed Marian. "I have only a few, and most of those are old-fashioned. Some were my grandparents' and some my father's."
"Doesn't your father ever get you any new ones?"
"He might if he were here," Marian answered, "but you see I don't know him."
"Don't know your father?" Patty looked amazed.