The two went into the library, leaving the others on the porch.
It was Sunday afternoon, and everybody was idle and happy. Patty was a good hostess and did not bother her guests by over-entertaining them.
But at Wistaria Porch there was always enough to do, if any one wanted to do it,—and delightful lounging places, if one were indolently inclined.
Searching among the catalogued records, Chick easily found the one Elise wanted.
"What a lot of records they have of the baby's voice!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," Elise assented, "they make them on all occasions. Patty's keeping them for her, when she grows up. Clever idea."
"Yes, but she'll have to build a town hall to keep them in! The child hasn't begun to talk yet, but here are dozens—"
"Oh, well, they'll weed them out. Some of them are awful cunning,—and
one is a first-class crying spell! They never could get but one of
Fleurette crying, she's such a good-natured kiddy. All right,
Chick,—start it off."
They listened to the pretty little chanson, and repeated it until
Elise felt satisfied she had added it to her repertory.
Just as she finished Betty Gale came flying in.