She turned to Philip, her soft, dark eyes shining with utter joy and a tender smile of glad surprise curving her quivering lips.
"Oh," she breathed, "oh, Phil!"
"You do consent?" he urged, "you must say yes, before you tell us any more!"
"May I, Patty?" and a shy, sweet face looked questioningly at the one she was glad to consider her mentor.
"I think so," Patty smiled back, for she knew how matters stood with
Phil, and she had faith in the true heart of the girl beside her.
"Yes, then," she said, softly, looking at Philip,—and that was their troth-plight.
"Go on, dear," he said, briefly, and with a glad smile in his eyes.
"There's little more to tell; I am Alice Adams, and my father was born in Boston—"
"Good gracious, Phil!" Patty cried. "Why, this child is a real Adams!"
"Of course she is," said Farnsworth, "I knew the Adamses that lived in Horner's Corners. You see, I was there some years myself. Why, your mother was a sweet little woman, with a face like Dresden china."