“It’s lots more interesting than if you had just bought a car and given it to me.”
“And lots less expensive, too,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling. “Why, Patty, girl, that whole affair, as it stands, is worth nearly three thousand dollars.”
“Goodness gracious! Is it really? I had no idea they were so expensive! Why, your big car didn’t cost much more than that, did it?”
“But, you see, this Stanhope of yours is a special car, in every way, and all its fittings and accessories are of the most up-to-date and extravagant type. You must do all you can for the company, by praising it to your friends. I don’t think you can do any more than that to further their interests.”
“Oh, I don’t feel under any obligation to the company. It was a business enterprise on their part. They offered a prize and I won it. Now we’re quits. Of course, I shall praise the car to my friends, but only because it’s such a beauty, and not because I feel that I owe anything to the company.”
“You are rather a logical young woman, after all, Patty. Sometimes you seem a feather-headed butterfly, and then again you appear to have sound sense.”
“A ‘feather-headed butterfly’ sounds pretty, I think. I guess I’ll be that, mostly.”
“You won’t have to try very hard,” remarked her father.
“But sometimes I have spells of being very serious: for instance, wasn’t I serious when I tried so hard to earn fifteen dollars in one week?”
“Yes, serious enough; but it was largely your stubborn determination to succeed.”