“Oh, Nan, it’s too gorgeous!” And Patty’s eyes ran through the letter again. “You know Adèle Kenerley, who was down at Mona’s last summer,—well, she and Jim have bought a place at Fern Falls,—wherever that may be,—somewhere up in Connecticut,—in the Berkshires, you know. Heavenly in summer, dunno what it’ll be in winter. But all the same that’s where the house party is, Christmas,—stay two or three weeks,—all our crowd,—oh, Nan! isn’t it beatific!”
Patty bounded to her feet, and gathering up the sides of her accordion-pleated gown, she executed a triumphant dance about the room, winding up by kicking her little blue silk slipper straight over Nan’s head.
“Moderate your transports, my love,” Nan said, calmly. “I don’t want concussion of the brain, from being hit by a French heel.”
“Not much of a compliment to my skilful ballet dancing,” and Patty flung herself into the cushions again. “But, Nan, you don’t understand; everybody’s going! Elise and Mona and the boys, and oh, gracious, do show some enthusiasm!”
“Don’t have to,” said Nan, smiling, “when you show enough for a dozen.”
“Well, I’ll call up Mona, she’ll have something to say.”
Patty reached for the telephone, and in a few moments both girls were talking at once, and the conversation ran something like this:
“Yes, I did, and, Patty——”
“Of course I am! Oh, I don’t know about that! If I——”
“But of course if Daisy is there——”