“You’ll see me carried out if you make me work so hard,” said Flo. “Tell her so, Patty.”
“Can’t Miss Carrington have a holiday, occasionally?” asked Patty, in her most wheedlesome way, but the stern Englishwoman shut her lips together with a snap, and then opened them to say, “No, Miss Fairfield; I have my orders.”
“Wow!” thought Patty, after she had returned to her own room, “I’m glad I don’t have to travel with a duenna, or whatever they call those snippy people.”
CHAPTER IX
A ROMAN TEA
PATTY had decided to have her tea in the garden of the hotel, and a good-sized portion had been set aside for her use.
Light tables and chairs nestled cosily among the great palms and tropical plants, and growing flowers made masses of bloom here and there.
The orchestra, just far enough away to be pleasant, had been engaged to play at intervals, including some American airs with their other selections. The collation had been carefully chosen, and after an inspection of the place to see that everything was satisfactory, Patty went to dress for the event.
“Do you remember Smarty’s party?” she said, pausing in Nan’s room.
“Whose?”