“And you mustn’t begin it yet, anyway. It’s too cold. Wait until June, and then we’ll see about it.”
“All right, I’ll agree to that. Why, somebody’s coming up the front walk! Nan, here comes our first caller. Wow! She’s a dasher!”
In a few moments, Jane, the new parlour maid, admitted the visitor, and she came in with a self-important flutter.
“How do you do?” she said, cordially. “I’m Miss Galbraith,—Mona Galbraith, your next-door neighbour. At least, we live in the house with red chimneys, two blocks down, but there’s no house between us.”
“How do you do, Miss Galbraith,” said Nan, rising to greet the guest, and followed by the others.
“You see,” went on the young woman, volubly, after she had accepted the seat offered by Mr. Fairfield, “I thought I’d just run right in, informally, for you might feel a bit lonesome or homesick this first day. So many people do.”
“No,” said Patty, smiling, “we’re not lonesome or homesick, but it was nice of you to come to see us in this neighbourly fashion. Have a muffin, won’t you?”
“Indeed, I will; what delicious muffins! Did you bring your servants with you?”
“Some of them,” said Nan. “We’re simple people, and haven’t a large retinue.”
“Well, we have,” said Miss Galbraith. “And I’m at the head of the whole bunch. Just father and I; we live alone, you know. Will you come to see us? Come to dinner, soon, won’t you?”