“Why, I had supposed so,—but if you prefer a tree——”
“No; I mean a house or an apartment, or what?”
“Goodness, Agnes! I don’t know. Live wherever you like,—and I’ll live there too.”
“In Washington?”
“That I don’t know,” and Farnsworth looked suddenly serious. “It all depends on the war developments, Patty. I may have to go to France.”
“All right,—I’ll go along.”
“But perhaps you can’t,—it will be on a special mission——”
Tears came to Patty’s eyes. “Whatever your country calls you to do, you must do, of course,” she said, slowly, “but if you go to France and leave me here—I’ll go with you,—so there, now!”
“It may not come to that,” Farnsworth sighed a little wearily; “and we won’t cross the bridge until we come to it. You go ahead as fast as you can, embroidering your tidies and tablespreads, and——”
“Oh, I shan’t embroider them. I’ll have them done,—in the trousseau shops,—oh, they will be lovely!”