And then Mr. Fairfield, who had been somewhat enlightened by Nan as to how matters stood, chatted gaily of other things, and Patty forgot her troublesome work, and was quite her own gay, saucy self again.
Kenneth dropped in in the evening, to bring a song which he had promised Patty. They tried it over together, and then Patty said:
“Would you mind, Ken, if I ask you not to stay any longer, to-night? I’ve something I want to do, and——”
“Mind? Of course not. I rather fancy we’re good enough friends not to misunderstand each other. If you’ll let me come and make up my time some other night, I’ll skip out now, so quick you can’t see me fly!”
“All right,” said Patty, smiling at his hearty, chummy manner. “I do wish you would. I’m not often busy, as you know.”
“’Course I know it. Good-night, lady, I’m going to leave you now,” and with a hearty handshake and a merry smile, Kenneth went away, and Patty went to her own room.
“I can work on that bow-knot part, to-night,” she said to herself; “and then to-morrow, I’ll get up early and do the rest of the flowers before breakfast.”
Her task had begun to look hopeless, but she was not yet ready to admit it, and she assured herself that, of course, the others would go much more rapidly than the first.
She took down her hair and braided it into a long pigtail; then she put on a comfortable kimono and sat down to work.
She stitched, and she stitched, and she stitched, at the monotonous over and over bow-knots. Doggedly she kept on, though her shoulders ached, her eyes smarted, and her fingers trembled.