“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Allen, “must we wait for all this custom-house botheration? I’m so tired of waiting.”
“No, you needn’t,” said Mr. Fairfield, kindly. “You and Nan and Mr. Allen jump in a taxicab and go home. I’ll keep Patty with me, and any other of the young people who care to stay, and we’ll settle matters here in short order.”
The young people all cared to stay, and though they had to wait some time, when at last they did get a customs inspector he proved to be both courteous and expeditious.
“Oh, don’t spoil my best hat!” cried Patty, in dismay, as he laid thoughtless hands on a befeathered creation.
“That I won’t, ma’am,” was the hearty response, and the hat was laid back in its box as carefully as an infant in its cradle. “I have ladies in my own family, ma’am, and I know just how you feel about it.”
“I’m perfectly willing to declare all my dutiable goods,” went on Patty, “but I do hate to have my nice things all tumbled up.”
“Quite right, ma’am, quite right,” amiably agreed the inspector, who had fallen a victim to Patty’s pretty face and bright smiles.
“Well, you did get through easily, Patty,” said Elise, after it was over and the trunks despatched by express. “When we came home, mother was half a day fussing over customs.”
“It’s Patty’s winning ways as does it,” said Kenneth. “She hypnotised that fat inspector with a mere glance of her eye.”
“Nonsense!” said Patty, laughing; “it’s an easy trick. They’re always nice and kind if you jolly them a little bit.”