She danced about the room, scarce able to control her impatience for the necessary twenty minutes.
“How can I wait?” she frowned, “seems’s if I’d just perfectly fly!”
“Go and sing that favourite song of yours,” advised Nan. “That always keeps you contented.”
“I do like it, but I’m too happy to sing. I want to dance or fly!”
Patty executed some most intricate and marvellous dancing steps and like a fairy girl indeed, she looked, as with waving arms and graceful gestures, she pirouetted round the room.
“Daughter of the Regiment,” she announced, as she fell into martial step and to the accompaniment of the Soldier Boy song, she marched down stairs.
Helen followed.
“Nixy, Bumble, my pet,” Patty said; “sorry, but I’ve just got to see my own Little Billee all alone. So, you’ll forgive me if I drop a gentle hint that you’re not invited.”
“I know that, Patsy; but listen a minute. I just want to say this. If you think better to tell Bill about what I did, you tell him. I’d hate to have him know it, I admit, but if it’s right, why, tell him, and I’ll take the blame.”
“That’s a goody girl, Bumble, dear, but I don’t believe it will be necessary. Anyway, I’ll know that I have your permission to tell and I’ll see if I think it’s best to do so. Probably I’ll think it’s better not to tell him, for no real harm was done, you know,—and yet, it may be that I’ll think he ought to know all.”