"Well you may," Patty said lightly, feeling safe now.
"He'll be the richest man in Montfield," said Mrs. Sanford, returning to the charge with an abruptness which found the other off her guard.
"Well, what of that?" her daughter asked absently.
"What of that!" the mother cried impatiently. "A good deal of that. But I suppose you'd refuse him, if he offered himself to-day."
"Of course, mother. You know I'm never going to marry."
"Don't talk like a fool, Patience. If you know when you're well off, you'll be careful how you snub Clarence Toxteth."
"I treat him as I do everybody else."
"But you mustn't. You must treat him different. Oh, dear!" Mrs. Sanford continued, quivering with excitement and indignation. "The trouble that girls are from the day they are born! Always contrary, and never knowing what they want, nor what's best for them. Why girls can't be born boys is more than I know!"
"There, mother, that is Irish enough for old Paddy Shaunessey."
"Always flying in the face of luck too," her mother went on, not heeding the interruption, "and always taking up with some crooked stick at last. The way you run after that old Tom Putnam is shameful!"