“Pooh!” said Patty, “I don’t want a picture of myself, anyway. I’d rather have one of you.”
“I’ll send you one,” said Peter, quietly.
“Not being members of the picture exchange, the other guests turned their attention to tea and muffins,” said Floyd, in a resigned way, as he appropriated more muffins, and begged Snippy to pour him another cup of tea.
“It doesn’t seem possible,” said Flo, “that we’ve been here over a month; does it, Patty?”
“No, indeed, seems more like a week. Oh, I know I shan’t like Florence as well as Rome, and then, too, all you boys won’t be there. I do love boys,” said Patty, contemplatively, as she broke a bit of frosting off her cake and gazed at the two young men before her.
“Thank you, old lady,” said Floyd. “And do you class this stalwart gentleman and myself among your beloved ‘boys’?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose you are too old to be called boys; but anyway, you’re the ones I meant. You and Lank and Caddy. Why, I’m so used to having you all bothering around, I’ll be awfully lonesome in Florence, I know I shall.”
“You’ll have me,” said Flo. “I’m nice.”
“Yes, you are. And perhaps we’ll have more fun without the boys. ‘They do tease so,’ as Alice said about the elephants.”
Patty’s roguish smile contradicted her speech, and both men knew it.