Patty nodded a good-bye, and went on, rapidly turning over in her mind a new plan that would include Rosy in some future happy Saturday afternoon. But this plan must wait for development, as the coming Saturday was enough to occupy her thoughts for the present.
“Home, Miller,” she said, as she took her seat. Miller gave a relieved sigh, for he was always more or less afraid of Patty’s escapades; and he didn’t like to have her go alone into these strange buildings.
They whizzed homeward, and at luncheon time Patty gave Nan a graphic account of her interview with Mrs. Greene.
“I think that’s the funniest of all,” said Nan, “that she should want you to wear your elaborate clothes.”
“So do I,” said Patty. “We girls had planned to wear our plainest dresses, thinking to make our guests feel more at ease. And when Madame Greene spoke of her black mohair, I thought I’d even rip the trimming off my brown waist! But not so,—far otherwise. So I shall get me into that new American Beauty satin, and I hope to goodness it will suit her taste. I expect she’s fearfully critical.”
“Perhaps the other girls’ guests won’t feel as Mrs. Greene does about this matter. What then?”
“Now, Nan, don’t stir up trouble! I have only my own guest to look after, and I shall dress my part. The others will have to do as seemeth unto them best. Oh, Nan, it’s going to be heaps of fun!”
“Yes, if it turns out right,—without any awkwardness or embarrassment.”
“Oh, you old wet blanket! Now, you know perfectly well, we’re doing our best. And if we’re awkward, we can’t help it. We’re going this afternoon to get the favours. What do you think of little pins,—silver gilt, or enamel?”
“They’d be all right, or hatpins, either.”