“Well, my dear, you can’t help it. Send word for her to come up, and make the best of it.”
“But, Grandma, what about the circus? She won’t go with us—I can’t imagine Miss Daggett at a circus—and somebody will have to stay home with her. I’d just as lief stay myself as to have you or papa stay, and of course we can’t leave her alone.”
“Perhaps she’ll want to lie down and rest after her journey,” suggested Grandma.
“Not she! Miss Daggett never lies down to rest. I can’t imagine it! No, I think we’ll have to give up the whole trip. Perhaps papa can exchange the box for some other date.”
By this time the visitor was at the door, and Patty and Grandma greeted her pleasantly.
Miss Daggett had been their next-door neighbour in Vernondale, and Patty was really fond of the queer old lady, but she only wished she had chosen some other day to visit them, or had at least let them know beforehand.
“I told you I’d come when the mood took me,” said Miss Daggett, as she removed her antiquated bonnet.
All of Miss Daggett’s apparel was what Patty called ancient and honourable. Her gown and cloak were of the richest material, but made in fashions of many years ago. Although a woman of wealth, Miss Daggett was subject to whims, one of which was to wear out the dresses she had before buying any new ones. As this whim had followed another whim of lavish extravagance, the dresses in question were of rich velvets and brocades which did not wear out rapidly. The result was that Miss Daggett went about, looking as if she had stepped out of an old picture.
Patty was quite accustomed to her old-fashioned garb, but suddenly realised that in the hotel dining-room it would be rather conspicuous.
But this thought didn’t bother her much, for she knew it was something she couldn’t help, and Miss Daggett had the dignified air of a thorough gentlewoman, notwithstanding her erratic costume.