“But they are cold. If you don’t believe it, I will wait while you try one. But, Patty, anyway, tell me this. If I stop teasing you now, will you give me an answer when I come back at New Year’s? You know, I must take that five-thirty train this afternoon, and I shan’t see you again till next week. Will you give me an answer then?”
“‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!’” sang Patty, with a saucy smile at him.
“No, I don’t want Daisy’s answer, I want yours. Now, you think it over through the week, and when I come up next Tuesday, you be ready to say, ‘Yes, Philip, you may hope, and some day I’ll make your hope come true.’”
“That’s an awful long speech to learn by heart,” said Patty, musingly.
“But you needn’t learn it word for word; just say something from your own heart that means the same.”
“Well,” said Patty, “next Tuesday I’ll look into my heart and see what’s there; and if there’s anything for you, I’ll tell you.”
Philip was forced to be content with this, for Patty suddenly changed the subject, and began to chatter merry nonsense that afforded no opportunity for romance. The roads were only a little broken, and the going was hard, because of occasional big drifts, but along some wind-swept stretches they made fairly good time.
“But I say,” said Philip; “we’ll have to cut out the butter and egg chapter! I simply must get that five-thirty, and I can’t do it if we go around by Hatton’s Corners.”
“All right,” returned Patty. “I’ll put it up to Adèle that we just couldn’t do it; and I’ll tell you what, Philip, we’ll go right to the station, and you take the train there without going to the Kenerleys’ at all. They’ll send your things down to-morrow.”
“That would be the safer way. But how will you get home from the station?”