“I’ve succeeded! I’ve really succeeded! Behold the proofs of Patty’s success!”
“Good for you, girlie!” cried her father. “You have succeeded, indeed! But don’t you ever dare cut up such a prank again!”
“No, don’t!” implored Nan. “I’ve had the most awful time the whole week! Every night Fred vowed he was going to bring you home, and I had to beg him not to. I wanted you to win,—and I felt sure you would this time,—but you owe it to me. For if I hadn’t worked so hard to prevent it your father would have gone after you long ago——”
“Good for you, Nan!” cried Patty. “You’ve been a trump! You’ve helped me through every time, in all my failures and in my one success. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you of my experiences! They were awfully funny.”
“They’ll keep till later,” said Nan. “You must run and dress now; Ken and the Farringtons are coming to dinner to help us celebrate your success.”
So Patty went dancing away to her own room, singing gaily in her delight at being once more at home.
“Oh, you booful room!” she cried, aloud, as she reached her own door. “All full of pretty homey things, and fresh flowers, and my own dear books and pictures, and—and everything!”
She threw herself on the couch and kissed the very sofa cushions in her joy at seeing them again.
Then she made her toilette, and put on one of her prettiest and most becoming frocks.
“Oh, daddy, dear,” she cried, meeting him in the hall on her way down, “it has done me lots of good to be homeless for a week! I appreciate my own dear home so much more.”