Patricia was quick to catch the longed-for concession in her aunt's voice. Dropping Custard, she ran to hug Miss Kirby. "Oh, you darling! But, Daddy," she turned anxiously, "oh, do you suppose Mr. Carr will mind very much?"
"I rather think he will be able to bear the disappointment," the doctor answered.
CHAPTER II
THE GINGHAM APRON PARTY
Fortunately, the ground under the big apple tree was soft and springy, and Patricia was used to both low and lofty tumbling; so when she landed, a little surprised heap, in the tangled grass, she lay still just long enough for the small black dog, nosing anxiously about her, to get in one or two licks of her sunburnt, bewildered face; then she sat up.
"My, Custard, that was a stunner! I reckon if Daddy was here he'd say, 'what a fall was there, my countrymen!'" Custard wagged agreeingly, and sniffed inquiringly at the strip of pink leg showing through the long jagged tear in one of his small mistress's tan stockings.
Patricia scrambled to her feet and began taking stock. There was another tear in the short skirt of her blue gingham frock, and one in one of the sleeves.
"Goodness! What will Aunt Julia say!" Patricia said ruefully; then remembered suddenly what Aunt Julia had said, no longer ago than yesterday morning, after a similar catastrophe.
"And if Aunt Julia isn't a 'Mede 'n' Persian,' she might almost as well be one—when it comes to unsaying things," Patricia told herself, as she started for the house.
Half-way up the back garden path, she came to an abrupt halt. "Custard," she gasped, "it's party day!"