Patty had worn a little silk house gown under her motor coat, so after a brief adjustment of her tumbled curls she was ready to go down.
The Perrys' was a modern house of an elaborate type. There were many rooms, on varying levels, so that one was continually going up or down a few broad steps. Often the rooms were separated only by columns or by railings, which made the whole interior diversified and picturesque.
"Such a gem of a house!" exclaimed Patty, as she entered the tea-room.
"So many cosy, snuggly places,—and so warm and balmy."
She dropped into a lot of silken cushions that were piled in the corner of an inglenook, and placed her feet daintily on a footstool in front of the blazing fire.
"Awful dinky!" said Kit, as he pushed aside some cushions and sat down beside Patty, "but a jolly good house to visit in."
"Yes, it is," said Marie, who was nestled in an easy-chair the other side of the great fireplace. "And it's so light and pleasant. We never get any sunlight, home."
"Nonsense, Marie," said Kit, "our apartments are unusually light ones."
"Well, it's a different kind of light," protested Marie. "It only comes from across the street, and here the light comes clear from the horizon."
"It does," agreed Mrs. Perry, "but we're getting the very last rays now. Ring for lights, Kit."
"No, sister, let's just have the firelight. It's more becoming, anyway."