“Of course, the chap’s all right, eh, Herron? Credentials, and that?”
“Must be or they wouldn’t have him in the Club.”
“There are spies everywhere,” said Patty, in a whisper.
“Oh, Pitty-Pat!” cried Helen, “is that what’s troubling you? Well, well! Those letters you get from Washington do sure go to your head! I see it, now, people! Bill tells Patty to look out for spies, and so,—she sees them everywhere!”
“Spies in the brooks, spies in the pastry-cooks!” exclaimed Herron, and Helen giggled.
“Yes, and I shouldn’t wonder if Patty suspects every one of us!”
“You needn’t laugh,” and Patty shook her curly head. “There is danger, isn’t there, Phil?”
“Of course, child. But even if this bad Mrs. Doremus was a spy,—she learned nothing from us, today.”
“She—he asked a heap of questions.”
“But nothing of any importance. It seems to me that,—Munson, is that his name?—only showed such curiosity as would become an elderly lady talking with two charming girls. You practically told her—him,—of your engagement, Patty, so you mustn’t wonder that he showed some interest.”