"Here's cream, Azalea," she said, as the maid reappeared, "many people like it in after dinner coffee, and you're very welcome to it."
"Licking good!" was the verdict, as Azalea stirred her coffee, and drank the tiny cupful at one draught. "The sample's fine! I'll take a regular sized cup, please."
"For breakfast," smiled Patty. "That's all we serve at night. Are you fond of music, Azalea?"
"You bet! Why, we've got some records that are just bang-up!"
"I remember Uncle Thorpe was quite a singer," said Bill; "do you sing, too?"
"Not so's you'd notice it! My voice is like—"
But the description of Azalea's singing voice was interrupted by the entrance of two young people. Betty Gale and her brother Raymond stepped in at the open French window, and laughingly announced themselves as daring intruders.
"Very welcome ones," declared Patty, jumping up to greet them, and then
Farnsworth introduced Azalea.
"You're the real purpose of our visit," said Betty, her charming little face alight with gay welcome. "We adore our neighbours, and they simply worship us,—so we're quite prepared to take any friends or relatives of either of them into our hearts and homes."
"My!" said Azalea, unable to think of any more fitting response, and taking Betty's outstretched hand, with her own little finger carefully extended.