"They are wonderful," agreed Patty. "Mr. Grantham is a true poet. He sees Nature at her best and with an intuition almost divine."
Her blue eyes shone with earnestness and Blaney gazed at her in adoration.
"You perfect thing!" he murmured; "you have found your right environment among us. You are wasted on the ordinary, unthinking masses of society. You are Nature's child. What a pity you must live a conventional life. Patty, can't you break loose? Can't you give up your present hampering existence and come and throw in your lot with ours? Live here. Alla would warmly welcome you as a sister——"
"And will you be my brother, Sam? I've never had a brother."
"No, I refuse to be your brother! I'll be—well, say, your guardian.
How'd you like to be my ward?"
"I didn't know girls ever were wards except in old-fashioned novels.
And there, they always marry their guardians."
"Well?"
"Oh, my gracious, is this a proposal!" Something in Blaney's tone had warned Patty that light banter was the best course, and she rattled on; "if so, postpone it, please. I really must go very soon and dress for my dance."
"I know it. I will wait for a more fitting time and place. You ought to be wooed in a sylvan glade——"
"Oh, I'd rather a bosky dell! I've always been crazy to be wooed in a bosky dell. A leafy bower is the nearest I've come to it."