“See you when you get back to town,” were his last words to Patricia, after taking leave of the rest of the party.
“Very likely,” she replied carelessly.
Had she been wise in inviting the boy to her house? She wondered, closing the door. He was inclined to be a bit possessive and might think she was more interested in him than she really was. But the end of the college year was fast approaching, and with it a breaking off of many Granard associations. Her face was very sober as she rejoined the group in front of the fire; for the fear of not being able to go back next fall was a very poignant one.
“What’s the matter, Pat?” inquired Katharine bluntly. “You look as if you’d just buried your last friend.”
“Haven’t,” replied the girl, perching on the arm of her father’s chair, and twisting his hair into a Kewpie knot.
“Pat always looks like that when it’s time to leave home,” commented Mrs. Randall, after a searching glance at her daughter.
“I don’t mean to appear inhospitable—” began Mr. Randall.
“But you think we should be on our way,” finished Patricia, “so as not to be on the road long after dark.”
“Well, you know it always takes longer than you expect.”
“Yes, darling; we’ll get started. Come, girls, get your things together.”