“I do not!” and Patty shook her head with great emphasis.
“Then I have a fair show, anyway.” And Philip drew the curtain that shut out the moonlight, and switched on the electric light.
“Exit Romance!” he said, “and enter Comedy! Now, Patty, you’re my little playmate; we’re just two kiddies in the pantry, stealing jam,—that is, if we can find any jam.”
“The pantry’s the place,” said Patty; “there’s nothing in the sideboard but biscuit and raisins.”
“They don’t sound very good to me. To the pantry!”
Into the pantries they went, and there, in cupboards and iceboxes, found all sorts of good things.
Cold turkey, game pâté, jellies, custards, cakes, and all varieties of food.
“This is ever so much more fun than moonlight,” said Patty, as she perched herself on a table, there being no chair, and held a partridge wing in one hand and a macaroon in the other. “Could you find me a glass of milk, Philip?”
“Yes, indeed; anything you want, my Princess.”
“I thought you said Jim was about,” Patty remarked.