“Oh, come now! If you’re going to talk like that!”
“I can only sing of Greenland’s Icy Mountains,” Helen declared, and just then they came in sight of the Club house.
A huge structure it was, in a large park, and surrounded by trees and gardens. In summer it was a beautiful spot, but in winter some thought it even more so. The Golf Links showed great stretches of white and the bare black limbs of the tall trees made a picturesque foreground. The house itself, with glassed-in veranda and storm doors, looked like a haven of refuge.
The girls ran inside, and were greeted by the sound of crackling flames in a great fireplace.
“I do think a Club is the nicest place!” exclaimed Helen, as she sat down on a fireside settle. “And this one has such a cheery, hospitable atmosphere.”
“Yes,” agreed Patty, “but I don’t see many people around. Aren’t there very few, Phil?”
“Rather so. But it’s an uncertain quantity, you know. Some days the place is crowded, and again nearly empty. It’s always so in a Club.”
“Where’s Mona?”
“She’ll come soon. I told you she’d be late. Don’t fuss, Patty.”
“No; I won’t,” and Patty smiled at him.