"Indeed we won't. I've changed my mind and I'll order this dinner myself. You shall have some soup, a broiled chicken, some vegetables and a plain ice cream. There, how do you like that?"
Cousin Tom didn't speak crossly at all, but very decidedly, and there was a pleasant twinkle in his eye that took away all idea of censure, so Patty said, amiably:
"I think it will be very nice and I really don't care what we have, only you told me to suggest something, so I did."
"Certainly, that's all right, but your suggestions were suicidal. Are you familiar with Bacon?"
Oh, thought Patty, he's going to order the breakfast over night, and I hate bacon.
"Yes," she said, "but I don't like it at all."
"You don't? What a perverted taste. But Boston will soon change that. We have a Bacon club, which you shall join. It is a most delightful club, and you will like it, I'm sure. I fancy that in a few weeks I shall see you devouring Bacon with intense enjoyment."
Indeed I won't, thought Patty. She was about to say that her Uncle Robert belonged to a Terrapin Club, but refrained, thinking it might be impolite to imply disparagement to the more lowly bacon.
So she changed the subject, and said:
"Please, Cousin Tom, tell me something of your family. It's so queer to go to see people and not know anything about them beforehand. But so far, my relatives have been very nice."