And then Patty heard herself say: “I could so! I think you’re real mean!”
Her bewildered look changed to admiration at his wonderful imitation of her voice, and the natural, petulant tone of the remark.
“It’s too wonderful!” she said. “Some other time, Mr. Collins, after dinner, maybe, will you teach me just a little about it?”
“I’ll try,” he said, kindly; “but I warn you, Miss Fairfield, it isn’t easy to learn, unless one has a natural gift for it, and a peculiar throat formation.”
“Don’t teach her,” begged Daisy Dow. “She’ll be keeping us awake all night with her practising.”
It was like Daisy to say something unpleasant; but Patty only smiled at her, and said, “I’ll practise being an angel, and sing you to sleep, Daisy.”
“You sing like an angel without any practice,” said Mona, who was always irritated when Daisy was what Patty called snippy.
“Oh, do you sing, Miss Fairfield?” said Mr. Hoyt, from across the table. “You must join our Christmas choir, then. We’re going to have a glorious old carolling time to-morrow night.”
“I’ll be glad to,” replied Patty, “if I know your music.”
But after dinner, when they tried some of the music, they discovered that Patty could sing readily at sight, and she was gladly welcomed to the musical circle of Fern Falls.