“Yes, I’ve sent some poems to the magazines already.”
“Have they been printed yet?”
“No, they weren’t even accepted. But that doesn’t discourage me; poets never succeed at first.”
“No, I suppose not.” Patty wished to be agreeably encouraging, but she knew very little about the experiences of young poets.
“Do you live in The Wilberforce?” she asked, thinking it better to get away from the subject of poetry.
“Yes,” said Lorraine; “we’re on the third floor.”
“Why, so are we; how very nice. Will you come and see us?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Lorraine; “I’d like to ever so much. We’re very lonely; my father is in the Navy, and is away on a three years’ cruise. So mother and I are all alone.”
“I’m glad you’re here; Grandma and your mother can be company for each other, and I’m sure you and I will be friends. Where do you go to school?”
“To the Oliphant.”