“You’re a great comfort, Nan,” and Patty smiled at her stepmother. “Dunno what I’d do without you, when the Governor tries to take a rise out of me.”
“Oh, I’ll buy your flowers, little girl,” and Nan smiled back, for there was great friendship and chumminess between these two. “Are you tired, Pats? You look—well,—interestingly pale.”
“Washed out, you mean,” and Patty grinned. “No, I’m not exactly tired, but I’ve been thinking——”
“Oh, then of course you’re exhausted! You oughtn’t to think, Patty!”
“Huh! But listen here. This is Monday, and between now and Saturday night I’ve got to go to fourteen different functions, of more or less grandeur and gaiety. Fourteen! And not one can I escape without making the other thirteen mad at me!”
“But, Patty,” said Mr. Fairfield, “that’s ridiculous. Of course, you can refuse such invitations as you choose.”
“Of course I can’t, Lord Chesterfield. I’ve got to show up at every blessed one,—or not at any. I’d like to cut the whole caboodle!”
“Why don’t you?” asked Nan. “Just retire into solitude, and I’ll say you’re suffering from—from——”
“Temporary mental aberration!” laughed Patty. “No, that wouldn’t suit me at all. Why, this afternoon, I’m going to a Garden Tea that I wouldn’t miss for a farm. There’s to be a new man there!”
“Well, just about the last thing you need on this earth is a new man!” declared her father. “You’ve a man for every day in the week now, with two thrown in for Sunday.”