“Ah, that would be a help,” cried Sinclair, also assuming a gayer tone. “If you’ll help us to do that, I’ll set up a memorial tablet to your cleverness.”
“Where will you set it? Between the fir trees and the oak?”
“Yes, if you find the fortune there.”
“But if I find it behind the headboard, that’s no sort of a place for a tablet!”
“You can choose your own spot for your Roll of Fame, and I’ll see to it that the memorial is a worthy one.”
“And will you put fresh flowers on it every day?”
“Yes, indeed; for if—I mean when, you find the fortune for us, the gardens will have immediate attention.”
“Then I must set to work at once,” said Patty, with pretended gravity, but in her heart she registered a mental vow to try in earnest to fulfil the promise given in jest.