“Oh, well, if you don’t get it, there’s always room for you in the big car. What time do you want to go to Christine’s?”
“About four. She won’t be home till then. Does that suit your plans?”
“Perfectly, my child.”
So, at four o’clock, Nan left Patty at Christine’s new home.
It was not a typical boarding-house, but an apartment occupied by two elderly people, who had a room to spare, which seemed just right for the young art student.
Even in the short time she had been there, Christine had done much to make the plain room more attractive. And Patty had helped, for many of the comforts that had been added had been her gifts. A growing palm, and a smaller bowl of ferns looked thrifty and well-kept; and a large jar of exquisite pink roses gave the place a gala air.
“What lovely roses!” exclaimed Patty, sniffing daintily at one of them.
“Yes, aren’t they?” said Christine. “Mr. Hepworth sent them. He sends them every week. Isn’t he kind?”
“Yes, but no kinder than he ought to be. Everybody ought to be good to you, Christine.”
“Why?”