"I had some very important business to transact," Patricia answered loftily, the mantle of her aunt's manner still enveloping her. "I guess I'll go put my apron on now."
Sarah sniffed indignantly, "You needn't tell me dere ain't some foolishness afoot," she declared.
"What time was you-un 'spectin' the comin' cer'mony to commence?" she asked, when Patricia came in to her solitary dinner. Neither Miss Kirby nor the doctor would be back before late afternoon.
"Aunt Julia said half-past three to seven; I suppose they'll begin coming 'long about three."
That note of hidden jubilation in her voice worried Sarah. She had not known Patricia for all of her eleven years for nothing. "Honey, what you cog'tating?" she coaxed; as she brought Patricia a generous slice of fresh cherry pie.
"I'm thinking about—my party. It's going to be a—a—corker, Sarah! You'll see!"
Sarah groaned, both in spirit and outwardly. "Honey," she pleaded, leaning on the back of a chair and studying her charge anxiously; "Honey, dat Miss Susy's a stranger in dis yere part—why, she's come clare from Phil'delphy. I'm told the chillerns down in Phil'delphy has beau-ti-ful manners."
"I dare say," Patricia did not appear greatly interested.
"And Miss Julia, she done plan dis yere party jest for her."
"I know—I didn't ask her to—I—"