“Well, we have to stand you!” grumbled Kenneth, “and you’re that all the time, now. What foolishness are you going to fly at next, trying to earn a dishonest penny?”
“I’m thinking of going out as a cook,” said Patty, her eyes twinkling. “Cooking is the only thing I really know how to do. But I can do that.”
“You’ll be fine as cook,” said Roger. “May I come round Thursday afternoons and take you out?”
“I s’pose I’ll only have every other Thursday,” said Patty, demurely.
“And the other Thursday you won’t be there! But what about this club we’re organising?”
“Make it musical,” said Kenneth, “and then while one of us is playing or singing some classical selection, the others can indulge in merry conversation.”
“You may as well make it the Patty Club,” said Elise, “as I suppose it will always meet here.”
Though not really jealous of her friend’s popularity, Elise always resented the fact that the young people would rather be at Patty’s than at her own home.
The reason was, that the Fairfield house, though handsomely appointed, was not so formally grand as the Farringtons’, and there was always an atmosphere of cordiality and hospitality at Patty’s, while at Elise’s it was oppressively formal and dignified.
“Oh, pshaw,” said Patty, ignoring Elise’s unkind intent; “I won’t have you always here. We’ll take turns, of course.”