"W-well," Patricia slowly conceded, "only I'll see to it myself, Sarah."
Patricia's thick mop of brown curls was of the tangly order; and when things had gone wrong, Sarah's touch was not always of the gentlest.
An hour later, Sarah, from her post of vantage on the side porch, saw six little girls coming up the path. There were no boys invited. Miss Kirby thought it so much nicer for little girls to play quietly by themselves.
A moment, Sarah stared at them in amazement; then her fat sides shook with laughter. "I shore might've knowed it! So that's what she was so busy phonegraphing 'bout! That chile shore weren't born yesterday. Gingham aprons, every last one o' them!"
Some of the six wore sunbonnets, the rest plain garden hats; and all wore stout serviceable shoes and stockings. Never had those six little girls gone to a party before in such unparty-like costumes.
Patricia came dancing to meet them, bareheaded as usual. "Let's go down to the barn right off," she proposed. "Goodness, how funny you do look!" she giggled.
"So do you," Nell Hardy retorted; then the seven stood still a moment to survey one another.
"Oh!" Mable Lane cried, "whatever put such an idea into your head, Pat?"
"I—I happened to think of it, that was all," Patricia answered vaguely. "Come on—we'll play hide and seek, and no going out of the barn."
"Are—are there any horses there?" Susy asked.