Patty jumped up and ran to take the letters from Jane, who brought in a trayful.
“Quite a bunch for you, Nansome,” and Patty tossed a lot of letters in Nan’s lap. “And a whole lot of beautiful, fat envelopes for me. ’Most all invitations, as you can see at a glance. Two or three requests for charity,—they show on the outside, too. A few bills, a few circulars and advertisements, and all the rest invitations. Isn’t it gorgeous, Nan, to be invited to such heaps of things?”
“Don’t wear yourself out, Patty,” returned Nan, a little absent-mindedly, being absorbed in a letter from her mother.
Having weeded out the more interesting looking letters, Patty returned to her sofa, and curled up there with both feet under her, looking like a very pretty and very civilised little Turk. With a slender paper cutter she slashed all the envelopes, and then went through them one by one, making running comments of delight or indifference as she read the various contents.
But suddenly a more excited exclamation broke from her. “Oh, my goodness, gracious, sakes alive!” she cried. “Nan, will you listen to this!”
“Wait a minute, honey, till I finish this letter,” and Nan went on reading to herself.
Patty dashed through eight pages of sprawly penmanship, and as soon as she finished she read it all over again.
“Now, Miss Fairfield, what’s it all about?” and Nan folded her own letter and returned it to its envelope.
“Well, in a nutshell, it’s a Christmas Country House Party! Could anything be more delightfuller?”
“Who, where, what, when?” And Nan patiently awaited further enlightenment.