"So you shall! Begin just as soon as you like and spoil me all you can," said Patty, still in gay fooling, when she suddenly remembered Daisy's prohibition of this sort of fun.
"Of course I don't mean all this," she said, suddenly speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.
"But I do, and I shall hold you to it. You know I have your blossom wreath; I've saved it as a souvenir of last night."
"That forlorn bit of drowned finery! Oh, Little Billee, I thought you were poetical! No poet could keep such a tawdry old souvenir as that!"
"It isn't tawdry. I dried it carefully, and picked the little petals all out straight, and it's really lovely."
"Then if it's in such good shape, I wish you'd give it back to me to wear. I was fond of that wreath."
"No, it's mine now. I claim right of salvage. But I'll give you another in place of it,—if I may."
Patty didn't answer this, for Daisy, tired of being neglected, leaned her head over between the two, and commenced chattering.
The two girls were well wrapped up in coats and veils Mona had brought them, but they were both glad when they came in sight of "Red Chimneys."
Patty went gaily off to her own rooms, saying she was going to have a bath and a breakfast, and then she was going to sleep for twenty-four hours.