"Do, that's a fairy stepmother. Bring some fruit, too, please."
Patty went up to her room, and when Nan appeared, shortly, with a most attractive supper tray, she was in kimono and cap, waiting for it.
"My, but this is good! I tell you, Nan, those Cosmickers know how to think, but they don't know a thing about foods."
"Your Blaney looks well nourished. But, he didn't strike me as very erudite. Why, Patty, he didn't know who those poets were, I asked him about!"
"Oh, yes, he did. He didn't want to discuss 'em, that's all."
"Nonsense! I saw his expression. He didn't know them, I tell you. He has never read a word of them."
"Well, he doesn't have to. He can write his own poems."
"Does he? Is he a poet, really?"
"Yes, Nan, he is. And he's all right, and Alla is, too. I don't like all their associate souls, but I like a lot of them, and you would too, if you saw them in their proper setting. Anyhow, their old symposium has tired my little brain all up, and with many thanks for your kind charity,—what there was of it—I'll let you go, if you really feel you must."
Nan laughed, for there was deep good feeling between these two, then she kissed Patty good night and went off with the empty tray.