“Chorus!” she cried. “Why, you must be crazy! I shall be a prima donna, one of the reserved, exclusive ones, that nobody ever knows much about. I’m not going to have my picture all over the signboards, I can tell you that?”
“Nor the ash barrels? Well, for this relief, much thanks. Patty, I could laugh at you till I cried, but I feel more like crying first. I’m so sorry you’ve got this whimsey, for I know you’ll hang on to it, like a puppy to a root; and I shan’t be here to look after you. But your father will do that.”
“Why, where are you going?”
“West again. I don’t know just when, but very soon. Now, it may be better for you to have this violently and get over it quicker, like mental measles. But unless you promise me faithfully to tell it all,—every word,—to your father and mother, I’ll write them myself, all about it. Do you want me to do that?”
“Chick thinks it would be great fun for me to have a try at the stage.”
“Did Channing say that?” Bill’s face grew dark. “Did he, really, Patty?”
“Yes, he did. He said I’d make a screaming hit.”
“Chick’s only joking; don’t let him fool you.”
“No, he wasn’t joking, and you know it. He thinks, as I do, that such an experience would broaden me——”
“Patty, stop! Do you want to be ‘broadened’ at the expense of all your refinement, your loveliness, your dainty girlhood, your fresh sweet youth,—oh, Patty, my little Patty, listen to me! If you never speak to me again, if you scorn me utterly, at least take my word for this, you must not, you shall not, think of this thing! Patty, come to me, instead. Come to me, dear, let me take care of you, and find pleasures for you that will make you forget this foolishness——”