"Well, your nerve isn't exhausted! To make me go to bed by day,—all the whole time!"
"Now, Patsy, don't be stubborn. Give me my way, this once. If you'll go to your room, and stay there and rest quietly till five o'clock, I won't say another word about your resting, while you're here. But you're—really,—you're so improved since you came, that I want to complete the cure. Scoot off, now, and then at five o'clock Jim will be back, and we'll have lots of fun."
"It's nearly half-past two, now. Well, I don't see much else to do, so
I'll go. But remember, it's the last of this foolishness."
"I'll remember. Run along now, and don't show your face below stairs till five. Cross your heart?"
"Yep. Cross my heart and hope to never! By-by."
Patty ran upstairs and closed her room door behind her. Never really at a loss to entertain herself, she read some magazines, wrote two or three letters that had been long owing, and then mooned around looking out of her windows at the distant hills, bright with winter sunshine. She opened the long French window to the balcony and stepped out. It was snappily cold, so she went back long enough to catch up a wrap. The apple blossom kimono was the first thing she saw, so she slipped into it, and went out on the balcony. The bracing air was delightful, and she walked up and down, drawing long deep breaths of ozone. There was a low railing round the little balcony and Patty sat down on it. The ground was only about eight feet below her, for the house was built on a side hill, and the slope was abrupt.
"I could almost lean down and pick violets," she mused, "if there were any to pick. But it's nowhere near spring, yet."
She drew her wrap more closely about her and rose to go in the house again.
"Well!" came in an explosive voice, just below her. Patty looked down and saw Farnsworth standing there, his face radiant with glad surprise.
"Little Billee!" she exclaimed, impulsively leaning over the rail.
"What are you here for?"