Patty admired Editha very much, she was so pretty and graceful and did not put on young ladyfied airs.
Adelaide was not pretty, but she had bright eyes and a humorous smile, and Patty soon discovered that to have fun was the principal end and aim of her existence.
Jeannette seemed to be a nice child, and Patty suddenly realised that it must be a jolly sort of thing to be one of three sisters.
“I quite envy you each other,” she said, “you must have such good times together.”
“Yes, we do,” said Adelaide; “haven’t you any brothers or sisters?”
“No,” said Patty, “not either. And I have no mother; she died when I was a baby. But I shall have, next spring,” she added, smiling, “for then my father is going to marry a lady I’m very fond of. She won’t be a bit like a mother, for she’s only six years older than I am, but she’ll be just like a sister, and I shall be so glad to have her with us. But I never get lonely; I have lots of things to amuse myself, and then there’s always papa and Grandma.”
“How do you like the Oliphant school?” asked Editha.
“Pretty well,” said Patty, smiling; “at least I shall like it when I get a little better acquainted. I’ve only been there a week yet.”
Adelaide said nothing about Lorraine, but somehow Patty felt sure that Clementine had spoken a good word for her; and now as she had a chance to justify herself to Adelaide, she was her own happy, merry little self, and the four girls got on famously.
It was not long before Patty reached the conclusion that the Harts were a thoroughly interesting family. Adelaide seemed really clever, and Patty was amazed to hear her tell of a fountain which she had herself constructed in the parlour of their apartment.