Patty had inherited a good deal of the Fairfield pluck, and she caught the spirit of her father’s advice.
“I’ll do it,” she said, determinedly; “I’ll try as hard as I can to win, but I don’t see much hope.”
“Never mind the hope; just go ahead with your efforts and let the results take care of themselves. And now let us go down and have an especially nice dinner, to restore us after this heart-rending scene.”
When they entered the dining-room Patty was surprised to see Adelaide Hart at one of the tables. Patty bowed cordially as she passed her, but Adelaide returned it without enthusiasm.
Fortified by her talk with her father, Patty determined not to mind this, and passed on with a heightened colour. She did not tell her father about Adelaide, for she had resolved to fight her own battles through the week.
The dinner was very pleasant. Mr. Fairfield was merry and entertaining, Grandma was very sweet and comforting, and Patty began to feel as if life were worth living, after all.
After dinner they joined the Hamiltons in the parlour, and Patty and Lorraine talked over the events of the day.
“I thought you wouldn’t like the girls,” said Lorraine; “I don’t like them either, and they don’t like me.”
“I saw Adelaide Hart in the dining-room to-night,” said Patty; “does she live here?”
“Yes, they’re on the fourth floor. That was her father and mother at the table with her, and her two sisters. They’re awfully disagreeable girls; I don’t speak to them.”