CONFIDENCES
Mona went home with Patty to dinner, as she often did when the girls had been together during the afternoon.
At the dinner table the elder Fairfields were greatly entertained by the account of the first Happy Saturday Afternoon.
“But aren’t you afraid,” Mr. Fairfield asked, “that such unaccustomed luxuries will make those people discontented with their own conditions?”
“Now, father Fairfield,” exclaimed Patty, “you ought to know better than that! you might as well say that a man in a prison ought never to see a ray of sunlight, because it would make him more discontented with his dark jail.”
“That’s true,” agreed Nan; “I think it’s lovely to give these people such a pleasure, and if I can help in any way, Patty, I’ll be glad to.”
“And then it’s the memory of it,” said Mona.
“You know yourself how pleasant it is to look back and remember any pleasure you may have had; and when it’s only one, and such a big one, the pleasure of remembrance is even greater.”
“That’s good philosophy, Mona,” said Mr. Fairfield, approvingly, “and I take back what I said. I think the plans you girls have made are excellent; and I, too, will be glad to help if I can.”
“Other people have offered to help us,” began Mona, but Patty interrupted her, saying: “We don’t want any help from people individually. I mean, father, if you will lend us the car, and things like that, we’ll be glad, of course. But we don’t want any personal assistance in our plans.”