“If we are, we’ll tag after you,” said Nan. “Patty, I think that I’ll introduce ourselves to those people over there. They’re the Van Winkles from Philadelphia, and I met Mrs. Van Winkle some years ago, though she may not remember me. But I think she does, for she has smiled pleasantly two or three times.”
“All right, Nan. I’ll go with you. Let’s go right after luncheon, if they stop in the winter-garden, as they probably will. Daddy can make himself invisible behind a newspaper until we call him into the game.”
So, as they rose from the table and passed through the winter-garden, which was also a favourite lounging-place at all seasons of the year, they found the Van Winkles had paused there, and were having their coffee at a small table.
Nan soon discovered that Mrs. Van Winkle did indeed remember her, and that they were all glad to become better acquainted. Mr. Fairfield was summoned to join the group, and a pleasant hour followed. The Van Winkle family consisted of the father and mother, also a son and daughter. Patty liked the young people, and was much amused to learn that the young man, whom his sister called Lank, was really named Lancaster. The girl’s name was Violet, and she explained that she chose it herself because it went so well with Van Winkle.
“I really had no name until I was about ten,” she said. “They always called me Birdie or Tottie, or some foolish pet name. But I liked Violet, so I just took it.”
“It’s a pretty name,” said Patty, with amiable intent, “and Lancaster is a pretty name, too.”
“Yes,” said Violet, “but we call him Lank, because he’s so fat and stuffy.”
He was a stout young man, and of a very good-natured countenance. He seemed to admire Patty, and soon they all fell into easy conversation.
“Have you been here long?” asked Patty.