“You needn’t talk, Aunt Grace, you’re just the same yourself, and you know that if somebody came along this minute and wanted to borrow your house you’d let her have it if she coaxed hard enough.”
“I think very likely,” said Aunt Grace, placidly. “Now, how are you going to catch your father and Nan?”
“Why, they’ll have to drive past here on their way home,” said Patty, “and I mean to stop them and tell them about it. We can put the horse in your barn, I suppose.”
“Yes, of course. And now we’ll go out on the verandah, and then we can see the Fairfield turn-out when it comes along.”
The Fairfields were waylaid and stopped as they drove by the house, which was not astonishing, as Patty and Bumble and Mrs. Barlow watched from the piazza, while Bob was perched on the front gate post, and Uncle Ted was pacing up and down the walk.
“What’s the matter?” cried Mr. Fairfield, as he reined up his horse in response to their various salutations.
“The matter is,” said Patty, “that we haven’t any home of our own to-night, and so we’re visiting Aunt Grace.”
“Earthquake swallowed our house?” inquired Mr. Fairfield, as he turned to drive in.
“Not quite,” said Patty, “but one of the neighbours wanted to borrow it, so I lent it to her.”
“That Mrs. Roland, I suppose,” said Nan; “she probably mislaid her own house, she’s so careless and rattle-pated.”