"Down!" she warned sharply. "Custard Kirby, if you make me drop this punchbowl I don't know what Aunt Julia will say!"
It seemed to Patricia as if that journey upstairs to the spare bedroom never would be made in safety; but it was accomplished at last, and her burden placed right in the center of the low reading-table, standing at one side of the south window.
With a long breath of relief, Patricia sat down on the edge of the bed, looking about the big pleasant room with approving eyes. It was exactly the sort of room she should like to have when she got be a grandmother. There were fresh muslin curtains at the windows, the fine old-fashioned mahogany furniture shone from its recent polishing; on the broad hearth a light fire was laid ready for the lighting, and at one corner of the fireplace stood a big chintz-covered armchair. Of course there was a footstool beside it. Patricia had seen to the footstool herself, hunting it out up garret that morning. She had wondered why Daddy's eyes twinkled at sight of it—Daddy would tell her nothing about grandmother, she must wait and see. And Patricia so hated waiting for anything, from surprises to scoldings.
"Yes, it certainly does look grandmothery, Custard," she said; "and the flowers help a lot. I know she'll love asters; they're such an old-ladyish flower. Mind, sir, you're not to go rushing at her! And the very first time you run off with any of her things you're going to get your ears boxed."
Custard wagged tentatively; boxing his ears appeared to him to belong to Miss Kirby's special department.
"Miss P'tricia!" Sarah stood in the doorway, indignation in the very points of her knotted turban—"Miss P'tricia, ain't yo' never be'n tole not to sit on beds? 'Tic'larly beds all ready fo' comp'ny!"
Patricia slipped hurriedly to her feet; but by this time Sarah had caught sight of something else. "Land sakes, Miss P'tricia! Ef yo' isn't gone an' tuk Miss Julia's punchbowl—what she don't 'low no one but herse'f to tech!"
Patricia put an arm around Sarah's waist, or rather, around as much of it as she could encompass. "Aunt Julia wasn't in—and I wanted the very nicest bowl I could think of. It is so perfectly lovely to have a grandmother coming!"
There was a world of unconscious longing in Patricia's voice; no one, not even Daddy, knew quite what the coming of her grandmother meant to the little motherless girl. And a grandmother she had not seen since babyhood. The coming weeks seemed to Patricia full of untold possibilities.
"It do look pretty," Sarah admitted, as she went to smooth out the bed covers. "'Pears like it was time yo' was gettin' your dress changed, honey. Yo' best let me giv yo' hair a brush; seems like yo' never did get the kinks out."