“I don’t quite see how,” said Nan, thoughtfully. “She’s that impossible sort. Oblivious to manner, impervious to hints. Patty, she’s dreadful!”
“Of course she is, Sweet Nancy. She isn’t our sort. But I’ll attend to her. I don’t know how, just yet, but I’ll find out. She’s a problem to be coped with, a difficulty to be overcome. But did you ever see such a gown? There was just enough embroidery on it for three self-respecting frocks. And her hair! Looked like the wax ladies’ coiffures in the hair-store windows!”
“Don’t make rude personal remarks, Patty, girl.”
“Oh, father, as if one could be rude to an object like that! Well, people dear, let’s put her out of our minds and hearts for the rest of to-day, anyway. I won’t have the birthday of ‘The Pebbles’ spoiled by a slight incident like that. Forget it!”
And so the impossible Miss Galbraith was voluntarily ignored.
CHAPTER VIII
SWIFT CAMILLA
At last the car came. Patty was in a flutter of joyous expectation, and, as Miller came whirring up the drive in it, the whole family assembled on the veranda to admire it.
“Isn’t it a beauty, Nan! Oh, isn’t it?” Patty exclaimed, as the sunlight flashed gold sparkles on the shining paint.
“It is, indeed, Patty. I never saw such a pretty one. Are you sure you can run it?”