"Won't she like it—all, when she does know?"
"Well, rather!"
Patience wriggled excitedly. "It's like having a fairy godmother, isn't it? And three wishes? If you'd had three wishes, Paul, wouldn't you've chosen—"
"You'd better begin quieting down, Patience, or Hilary can't help suspecting something."
Patience drew a long breath. "If she knew—she wouldn't stay a single day longer, would she?"
"That's one reason why she mustn't know."
"When will you tell her; or is mother going to?"
"I don't know yet. See here, Patience, you may drive—if you won't hi yi."
"Please, Paul, let me, when we get to the avenue. It's stupid coming to a place, like Fanny'd gone to sleep."
"Not before—and only once then," Pauline stipulated, and Patience possessed her soul in at least a faint semblance of patience until they turned into the avenue of maples. Then she suddenly tightened her hold on the reins, bounced excitedly up and down, crying sharply—"Hi yi!"