"I knew he would be nice," said Nan, "from what you had already told me about him. Is he good-looking, Patty?"
"Yes,—no,—I don't know," returned Patty; "I don't believe I thought about it. He has an awfully nice face, and he's tall and big, and yet he's young-looking. At least, his eyes are. He has dark eyes, and they're just brimming over with mischief and fun, except when he's playing his violin."
"Then I suppose he has the regulation 'far away' look," commented Nan.
"Well, he doesn't look like a dying goat, if that's what you mean! but he looks like a real musician, and he is one."
"And a woman-hater, I believe?"
"Oh, it's rubbish to call him that! He's not crazy over girls, but it's because he thinks most of them are silly. He likes his two cousins,—and, Nan, don't breathe it, but I have a faint inkling of a suspicion of a premonition that he's going to like me!"
"Patty, you're a conceited little goose!"
"Nay, nay, my ducky stepmother, but I'd be a poor stick if I couldn't fascinate that youth after our romantic introduction."
"That's so; and I think you'll not have much trouble bringing him to your feet."
"Oh, I don't want him at my feet. And I don't want him to fall in love with me. I hate that sort of thing! I want him for a nice, chummy, comrade friend, and if I can't have him that way, I don't want him at all. There's Philip and Kenneth now; they've always been so nice. But lately they've taken to making sheep's eyes at me and flinging out bits of foolishness here and there that make me tired! A debutante's life is not a happy one!"