"I see that you are a feather-headed kitten," said Elinor, not at all mollified. "Miss Jinny will do very well as she is without your romantic nonsense to mortify her. I I'm ashamed of you, indeed I am, Patricia. I thought you had more delicacy."
Patricia lifted her brows, perplexed and inquiring, and then dropped them with a shrug that seemed to indicate that the matter no longer interested her.
"What are you going to do with that lovely old shawl she brought you, Elinor?" she asked, tossing the end of her long braid over her shoulder and yawning luxuriantly. "I'd like to make a party dress of that heavenly silk cloak I got, but it seems like cutting up one's own grandmother."
Elinor gave a start. "Well, I declare, if I didn't forget all about it!" she exclaimed. "We were so excited with the presents and all, that I never told you! It's going to be perfectly gorgeous. I know you'll be crazy over it."
Patricia flung herself on her sister, overwhelming her in a flurry of pink kimono and white arms. "Tell me!" she cried. "Tell me this minute, you aggravating thing! You're getting to be a regular miser of your news—you won't give up till it's dragged out of you. Speak, or I'll have your life!"
Elinor held her close, laughing with enjoyment at her ardor.
"It isn't anything to kill for, Miss Pat," she rippled. "It's merely the Academy ball that takes place next week——"
Patricia flung off the encircling arms, and was on her feet in an instant.
"And we are going?" she demanded breathlessly. "Oh, say that we are going, Elinor!"
"Of course we're going," said Elinor, evenly. "What else should we do? And I want you to persuade Miss Jinny to stay over for it, Miss Pat."