Patricia did not eat much that evening, but she gave the impression that she was doing so.
The girls always disposed of the dishes, after dinner, in a wizard-like manner. They disappeared until morning—and no questions were asked!
Then, when the meal was over this night, Patricia flung herself on the couch, clasped Cuff in her arms, and asked Joan to sing her to sleep.
"You are tired, Pat. Was it a hard day?"
Joan came wistfully to the couch.
"No, not hard, only bracing. They're going to raise me in the summer, Joan. We'll be fat and lazy next winter—and just think: the summer in The Gap lies between!" For that was what Joan's deferred visit had resolved itself into.
"Pat, your cheeks are—red!"
"Joan, don't be silly. I touched them up. I never could see the difference between rouge and dyes and powder and false teeth! They're all aimed at the same thing—and it isn't mastication, either. It's how you handle the aids to beauty."
"Dear, funny, pretty old Pat!"
"Joan, go and sing!"