"Don't talk as if I were an invalid, Patty. I'm sensitive to the
heat, I admit, and this weather is excessive. But I'm not ill, and
once I get a whiff of mountain air I'll be all right."
"I know it, Nancy; and so fly away and get it. And don't waste a
thought on poor, worthless me, for I shall be as happy as a clam.
I just love broiling, sizzling weather, and I'm sure my
experiences at Mona's will be novel--if nothing else,--and novelty
is always interesting."
"I hope you will have a good time, Patty, but it all seems so
queer. To go off and leave you with that girl, and an aunt whom we
have never even seen!"
"Well, I'll see her this afternoon, and if she won't give me a
photograph of herself for you, I'll draw you a pen portrait of the
Dragon Lady."
"I hope she will be a Dragon, for you need some one to keep you
steady. You mean to do right, but you're so thoughtless and
impulsive of late. I'm afraid it's growing on you, Patty."
"And I'm afraid you're a dear old goose! The heat has gone to your
head. Now, forget me and my vagaries, and devote all your time and
attention to the consideration of Mrs. Frederick Fairfield."
"Ready, Nan?" called her husband from the doorway, and then there
was a flurry of leave-takings, and final advices, and last words,
and good-bye embraces; and then the motor-car rolled down the
drive carrying the travellers away, and Patty dropped into a
veranda chair to realise that she was her own mistress.
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