"Ouch!" she cried reproachfully. "That's not fair. You bit."
"Not hard," Patricia reassured her gravely. "Just enough to turn you loose. 'Twas not so deep as a grave nor so wide as a church door, but it did answer. Go on, Elinor, love, it's getting late."
Judith had picked up the envelope and was examining the seal.
"Isn't the frat paper lovely?" she sighed. "I do hope I shall go to college—or else have a husband who belongs to a lot of——"
"Silence!" thumped Patricia.
Elinor, who had been quietly going on with her breakfast, laid down her fork.
"Read it for yourselves," she smiled, tossing the sheet across the table. "My time's about up. It's criticism morning in the portrait class, and I want to get a lot more done before Mr. Benton comes."
Patricia grabbed the sheet before Judith could set down her glass, and she read it aloud, with great enjoyment.
"'Dear Elinor'—begins well, doesn't it, Judy? I couldn't have done much better myself—'Tom Hughes and I are coming to town next Saturday, and we are going to blow ourselves, for his birthday.' Not very enlightening as to Tom Hughes—never heard of him before; but that's neither here nor there, of course."
"Do get on, Miss Pat," urged Judith, folding her napkin. "I've got to get to school sometime this morning, you know."