"No, I haven't an artful soul, I fear. How are you getting along,
Patty, down here without your fond but strict parents?"
"Getting along finely, Roger. Aunt Adelaide plays propriety, and Mona and I keep house."
"H'm, I'm 'fraid I scared off our long-haired friend," said Roger, as Cromer rose and drifted away. "Never mind, I want to talk to you a little myself. I say, Patsy, don't you let these men flatter you till you're all puffed up with pride and vanity."
"Now, Roger, AM I that kind of a goose?"
"Well, you're blossoming out so, and getting so growny-uppy looking,
I'm 'fraid you won't be my little Patty-friend much longer."
"'Deed I shall! Don't you worry about that. How do you think Mona is looking?"
"Fine! Lots better than when I saw her in May. She dresses better, don't you think?"
"Yes, I guess she does," said Patty, demurely, with no hint as to WHY
Mona's appearance had improved. "She's an awfully nice girl, Roger."
"Yes, I always said so. And you and she help each other. Sort of reaction, you know. What do we do down here?"
"Oh, there are oceans of things planned. Parties of all sorts, and picnics, and dances, and motor trips, and every old thing. How long can you stay?"