CHAPTER II
ANNE
Swinging her chair sharply about to face the aisle, she met the amused gaze of a red-haired girl of about her own age.
“Tell me,” begged Patricia impulsively, leaning forward, “was I—doing anything—unusual while I was asleep?”
“I’ll say you were,” responded the girl, smiling broadly.
“What?”
“You—you were—stroking the ankles of that young man back of you as if your life depended on it,” choked the stranger.
“No!” cried Patricia, in great distress.
“Yes! Then suddenly you pinched the poor fellow, and I thought I’d just die!”
At that moment the man in question rose and hurried down the aisle toward the smoker. With crimson face, Patricia watched the slight boyish figure, with its crown of smooth yellow hair, disappear before she again addressed her neighbor.
“I’m embarrassed to death! What must he think of me? I can’t apologize for something I didn’t know I was doing; and if I try to explain, it will look as if we were trying to scrape up an acquaintance. What would you do?”