"I'm already out." Patty glanced toward the mirror. "And I'm not freckled and I'm not squint-eyed."
"What do you mean?" Rosalie stared; she had for the moment forgotten the dread nature of the oath.
"I've told Uncle Bobby."
"Oh, Patty! How could you?"
"I—I—that is—" Patty appeared momentarily confused. "You see," she confessed, "I thought myself that it would be sort of interesting to practice on somebody, so I—I—just tried—"
"And did he—"
Patty shook her head.
"It was awfully uphill work. He never helped a bit. And then he noticed my bracelet and wanted to know what S. A. S. meant. And before I knew it, I was telling him!"
"What did he say?"
"First he roared; then he got awfully sober, and he gave me a long lecture—it was really very impressive—sort of like Sunday School, you know. And he took the bracelet away from me and put it in his pocket. He told me he'd send me something nicer."