"I know what you mean, now, Miss Pat," she declared loftily. "I've read it in Stevenson's verses, about 'those who … sow gladness in the peopled lands,' Isn't that it, Bruce? I didn't quite understand the way Patricia put it, but I think it's perfectly lovely, really I do."
Bruce pinched her cheek, with a tolerant laugh.
"It's all right, so long as it's in a book, eh?" he asked. "What a perfect little chameleon you are, Judy Kendall. I don't know whether to take you into the grand surprise that I'm going to spring on these two young ladies, or leave you at the nearest library while I disclose my dark projects. What do you say, Elinor?"
Elinor slipped Judith's nervous hand into her muff within her own.
"I think we might let her share with us this time," she said gently, and Judith's relief was beautiful to behold.
"Bruce says we're going to a French restaurant," she announced proudly. "I hope I can remember enough French to talk politely. Mademoiselle makes us say so many fine sentences when we have our 'calling days' in the French class that I get awfully twisted and never know whether I'm masculine or feminine."
"You won't need to think about it here," said Bruce. "The waiters are both Belgians and they speak English pretty well. You know that English is taught in the public schools in Belgium, and even the little children can say a few words to you. It's the old folks that don't understand."
Judith flew back to his side, pushing Patricia ahead to Elinor.
"Oh, do tell me all about it," she pleaded, and Bruce, with his customary good nature, launched into a very diverting account of the habits and customs of the Flemings and the year spent among them in his student days.
The first breath of spring was in the air, softening the chill of the crowded streets with warming sunshine and a hint of the coming miracle of the yearly resurrection. The shops were filled with the crisp, fresh-tinted goods of the nearing season, and here and there among the smartly dressed women was a modish straw hat brightening the winter furs and velvets. Patricia's cup was full and running over. She had no need for speech with Elinor, but she kept giving her hands quick little squeezes in her muff, while now and again they exchanged swift telegraphic glances of appreciation.