“We can play house just the same,” said Violet. “I’ll live in the temple of Saturn; it’s roomy and well ventilated. What do you choose, Mr. Homer?”
“I’ll live under the arch of Septimius Severus. It’s not so large, but it’s roofed in case of rain.”
“The Temple of Vespasian, for mine,” said Lank. “It isn’t in very good repair, but perhaps the landlord will fix it up; and anyway, I’ll be near sister, if she wants me.”
And so these four ridiculous young people went to their chosen abodes.
Patty surveyed the wide expanse of her house with satisfaction, and then taking a pack of postcards from her bag, proceeded to identify the different monuments.
Soon Violet came flying over. “How do you do, Madame Julia?” she said. “Is the Honorable Cæsar at home?”
“No,” said Patty, rising with great dignity, and bowing to her guest. “He had to go to market,—to the Forum, I mean. It’s his day to make a speech to the Senate or something.”
“I’ve brought my cards,” said Violet, dropping back into a modern American mood. “Don’t you get the columns mixed up?”
“Yes, I do,” said Patty. “But I don’t care much. You can wonder better, if you’re not sure of your facts.”