Elise was a little ashamed of her unjust speech, and only too glad to turn it off by joining in Patty’s laughter. So she only said, “Oh, Christine’s all right!” and dropped the subject.
By the first of May, everything was ready for occupancy at “The Pebbles.” The lawn and grounds were in fine condition, and the house in perfect order.
But Patty begged that they shouldn’t start until she had received word about her prize car.
“Why, Puss, all the mail will be forwarded,” said her father. “You’ll get your precious missive there just as well as here.”
“I know that, daddy dear,—but, well,—I can’t seem to feel like going, until I know that car is my very own. Just wait until the third of May, can’t you?”
She was so persuasive that Nan went over to her side, and then, of course, Mr. Fairfield had to give his consent to wait. Not that he cared, particularly, but he was a little afraid that Patty would not get the prize, and thought she might bear her disappointment better if away from her young friends.
But they waited, and again the group of those most interested gathered in the Fairfield library to await the letter.
Christine and Mr. Hepworth were there, too, this time; also Philip Van Reypen.
Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield, though outwardly calm and even gay, were perhaps the most anxious of all, for they knew how keenly a disappointment would affect Patty.
The whistle sounded. The postman’s step was heard. Instead of rushing to the door, Patty felt a strange inertia, and sank back in her chair.