Patty flew across the room and greeted her stepmother with an affectionate squeeze, and then flew back and dropped comfortably on the couch, tucking one foot under her, and thereby dropping off a little blue silk boudoir slipper as she did so.
“Oh, Nan!” she began, “it was the most exciting party ever! What do you think? Christine and Mr. Hepworth are engaged!”
“Christine! and Gilbert Hepworth!” and Nan was quite as surprised at the news as Patty could desire.
“Yes, isn’t it great! and oh, Nan, what do you think? Christine was all broken up,—crying in fact,—because,—did you ever know anything so ridiculous?—because she thought she was taking him away from me!”
Nan looked at Patty a little curiously. “Well; you must know, Patty, he certainly thought a great deal of you.”
“Of course he did! And of course he does!—You speak as if he were dead!—and I think a great deal of him, and I think a heap of Christine, and I think they are perfectly suited to each other, and I think it’s all just lovely! Don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Nan, slowly. “Then, you didn’t care for him especially, Patty?”
“Good gracious, Nan, if you mean was I in love with him, I sure was not! Little girls like me don’t fall in love with elderly gentlemen; and this particular little girl isn’t falling in love anyway. Why, Nan, I’m only just out, and I do perfectly adore being out! I want three or four years of good, solid outness before I even think of falling in love with anybody. Of course I shall marry eventually, and be a beautiful, lovely housekeeper, just exactly like you. But, if you remember, my lady, you were some few years older than nineteen when you married my revered father.”
“That’s true enough, Patty, and I can tell you I’m glad I didn’t accept any of the young men who asked me before Fred did.”
“I’m jolly glad, too; and father was in luck when he got you. But you’re not going to be rid of me yet for a long time, I can tell you that much. Well, more things happened last night. Philip and I made up our quarrel,—which wasn’t much of a quarrel anyway,—and Roger and Mona are pretty much at peace again; though, if Mona keeps on with that Lansing idiot, Roger won’t stand it much longer. And I’m going to the opera to-night in the Van Reypen box, and I’m going skating to-morrow,—oh, there’s the mail!”