“Don’t you care for him, specially, Patty?” went on Flo, determined to learn Patty’s sentiment toward him.
“’Deed I don’t! I like him a lot; he’s one of the kindest and cleverest men I know. But as to ‘liking him specially,’ as you call it, I truly don’t.”
“Do you like any one specially?” persisted Flo.
“For goodness’ gracious’ sake, Flo! What is the matter with you? If you mean am I in love with anybody, I certainly am not, and don’t expect to be for several hundred years yet! So there, now!”
“You’re a funny girl, Patty. I expect to be married before I’m twenty.”
“Well, I don’t! And I don’t want to. I may get married sometime in the distant future, if I find anybody I can ‘pine’ for. But I’m only eighteen now, and I can’t be bothering with such matters.”
“You’ll be nineteen next spring.”
“So I will! Well, come ’round then, and I’ll talk to you about it. Have some tea?”
Flo and Patty had grown to be devoted friends, and both were really sorry that their parting was so near. A week’s stay in Rome, and then the Fairfields would leave for Naples, and so home, by way of the Mediterranean, while Flo and Snippy would return at once to England.