"Indeed, Patty, there is an impudent romp of quality you would act to perfection."
"I love a romp," cried Patty, clapping her hands. "Give me a pinafore and a pair of scarlet shoes, and I am on fire with genius. I hope David will bring out your dad's play, and that 'twill run a month."
"If it did he would give me a silk gown, and I might see Ranelagh."
"He is not a bad father, is he, Tonia?"
"Bad! There was never a kinder father."
"But he lets you work hard."
"I love the work next best to him that sets me to it."
"And he has been your only schoolmaster, and you are clever enough to frighten a simpleton like me."
"Nay, Patty, you are the cleverest, for you can do things—act, sing, dance. Mine is only book-learning; but such as it is, I owe it all to my father."
"I hate books. 'Twas as much as I could do to learn to read. But there's one matter in which your father has been unkind to you."