“A streak of lightning, I guess, if need be,” said Miss Winthrop, nodding her head at Philip, as if she appreciated his capabilities.
“I’m quick at some things,” said Philip, modestly. “But, jiminy crickets! I don’t believe we’re going to be very quick getting away from here! Just look at the storm, now!”
The fury of the elements had increased. The wind was a raging northern blast, and the snow was already piled in drifts. It was, in fact, a blizzard in a small way, and was rapidly growing.
“But never mind the weather, so long as we’re together,” sang Patty with a little trill, as she danced about the room. Then she seated herself at the old, square piano, and began to sing snatches of gay songs.
“My land! How pretty you do sing,” said Miss Winthrop, who was leaning on the end of the piano, listening delightedly. “Oh, sing more, won’t you? I don’t know when I’ve had such a treat.”
So Patty sang several of her prettiest songs, and the two old ladies were enchanted. Moreover, Eliza, the maid-of-all-work, and ’Kiah, the hired man, appeared in the doorway of the sitting-room and listened too.
“Come on, Philip; let’s give them a duet,” and Patty broke into some rollicking college songs, in which Philip joined.
Glad to be able to please their kind entertainers, they kept on singing for an hour or more.
“Well, that was great!” exclaimed Mrs. Fay, as Patty rose at last from the piano stool. “I used to sing some, and he used to sing bass. My, but we had nice times singing together there at that same piano. You two just made me think of it all over again. I think it’s awful nice for two to sing together.”
“Yes, we’re awfully fond of singing together,” said Philip, with a glance at Patty, half mischievous, half tender, whereat Patty blushed.