The family separated, and Patty ran singing away to make her preparations for the campaign.
“What are you doing?” asked Nan, as she went rummaging in the linen closet.
“Nothing naughty,” replied Patty, giggling. “Curb your curiosity, stepmothery, for it won’t be gratified.”
Nan laughed and went away, and Patty proceeded to select certain very pretty embroidered doilies and centrepieces,—two of each.
These she laid carefully in a flat box, which she tied up into a neat parcel. Then she put on her plainest cloth suit, and a small, dark hat, and was ready to start.
“Nan,” she said, looking in at the library door, “what time do you want the motor?”
“Oh, about eleven or twelve. Keep it as long as you like.”
“It’s only ten now. I’ll be back in less than an hour, I’m sure. Good-by.”
“Good-by,” returned Nan. “Good luck to you!”
She thought Patty’s scheme ridiculous, but harmless, for she knew the girl well enough to know she wouldn’t do anything that might lead her into an unpleasant position; but she feared that her boundless enthusiasm would urge her on beyond the bounds of her nervous strength.