In merry nonsense and chaff the time slipped away, and everyone was surprised when Clifford Morse came for his sister, and said it was after five o’clock. The boy was invited in, and Patty begged of him that Clementine might stay a few moments longer.
Although Clifford Morse was only eighteen, he was a young giant. More than six feet tall, he was broad-shouldered and strong-limbed. His good-looking boyish face was framed in a thick close-cut crop of brown hair, and his athletic carriage and bearing was marked by the usual athlete’s grace.
The courteous respect he showed to Grandma Elliott, and his frank pleasant manner toward the girls, proved him a well-born and well-bred young American citizen, and, though meeting for the first time, he and Kenneth Harper instinctively felt a mutual friendliness.
“This is right down jolly,” he exclaimed, as he took the cup of tea Patty offered him. “I have attended affairs that were called afternoon teas, but there must have been a mistake somewhere; they were oppressive and awe-inspiring functions, but this is the real thing. Is it of frequent occurrence, Miss Fairfield, or must I wait a long and weary while before I may come again—to take my sister home?”
“You must ask Grandma,” said Patty, laughing; “she is the captain and the cook and the crew of this Nancy Bell. I am only the midshipmite.”
Young Morse turned to Grandma Elliott with his merry smile. “May I hope to come again,” he said, “if I promise to be very good and not drink up all the tea?”
“You may come any Saturday afternoon when we are at home,” said Grandma, smiling; “but it’s only fair to warn you that we’re very rarely home on Saturdays.”
“I shall come,” said Clifford, “and I’ll come early, and I’ll make myself so charming that you’ll quite forget all other engagements.”
“You may try it,” said Grandma, looking kindly at the merry boy.
The click of the key was heard in the front door and in a few moments Mr. Fairfield joined the party.