On reaching her own home, Patty related to her father and Nan the experience she had had.
“You did exactly right, Patty, girl,” said her father, “and I will send the man a cheque for the tube, and a letter of thanks for his kindness to my daughter, just as you told him I would do. I’m surprised that Mona should have acted as she did, for I supposed any young girl of the present day would know better than to speak familiarly to a stranger.”
“It wasn’t so much what she said, father, as her gay and easy manner, and the way she smiled at him. She showed no reserve or dignity.”
“Yes, I understand, and I am glad you reproved her. You may do her some good, Patty, by your influence and example.”
Patty sighed a little. “I’m willing to help her, but I don’t want to take the whole burden of her social education on my shoulders.”
“Patty,” laughed Nan, “don’t take it so seriously. You’re not employed as nursery governess at ‘Red Chimneys’ yet, and the few occasions when you have opportunity to drop a good seed on Mona Galbraith’s thorny soil, it won’t hurt you a bit to do it.”
“Hurray for Nan!” cried Patty; “she always hits the nail on the head and rings the bull’s-eye! Well, anyway, I didn’t tell Mona about my birthday, or that I expect company.”
“It wasn’t really necessary,” said Nan, drily; “she’ll probably be over here a good deal of the time, anyway.”
“Not if I see her first!” retorted Patty, though she knew in her heart, if Mona chose to come, she couldn’t help herself.
“Well,” said her father, “now that we’ve all denounced Mona sufficiently, I’ll express my opinion of Miss Patricia Fairfield. Any little girl who pretends to keep her motor accessories in order, and then blithely rides away with an old burst tube in her repair kit, is, to my mind, as I’ve had occasion to tell her before, a feather-headed butterfly!”