“I was coming to the school with a note,” said Pattie; “Father told me to leave it. I did not think I’d meet one of you. I am surprised to see you.”
“Well, you need not be. You were not at school this morning, or you would know why I am here.”
“No, I had a cold, and Father thought I had best not go. He is so awfully particular, for fear of my giving anything to the rest of the girls. I am better now, but I must not be out long; my throat is rather sore.”
“You look quite well,” said Harriet.
“It’s only my throat that’s a little bad. Please, do tell me about this morning.”
“And the great triumph for me,” said Harriet. “Ralph, don’t go out of sight!”
She shrieked these words to Ralph, who immediately paused, turned, and looked at her, then came in her direction, holding Curly Pate’s hand.
“Do you see that child?” said Harriet.
“Yes—the little darling!” cried Pattie. “Little Ralph Durrant. Father raves about him; he says that he will be the richest man in England some day.”
“Oh, well,” said Harriet; “he is a very troublesome little boy now. But, nevertheless, I am pleased. His father has made a most ridiculous proposal. He said that Ralph was to choose one of us to be his school-mother—I can tell you it was thought a great honour—and he chose me.”