And
I know you girls have lots of gossip to talk over--so, I'll see
you later."
Jim Kenerley set off for the Galbraith bathing pavilion, easily
discernible by its ornate red chimneys, and Mona turned to have a
good old-fashioned chat with Adele.
"Why, where is she?" she exclaimed, and Aunt Adelaide petulantly
explained that Patty and Adele had gone to look after the baby.
"Pretty poor manners, I call it, to leave me here all alone. It
never occurred to them that I'd like to see the baby, too!"
"Never mind, Aunt Adelaide, you'll have lots of time to see that
baby. And, of course, Adele wants to go to her rooms and get
things arranged. You and I will wait here for the next arrivals.
Laurence Cromer is due about now. He's an artist, you know, and
he'll think you're a picture in that exquisite gown." Much
mollified at these remarks, Aunt Adelaide rearranged her
draperies, called for another cushion, had a screen lowered, and
sat slowly waving a small fan, in expectance of the artist's
admiration. And perhaps the artist might have given an admiring
glance to the picturesque lady in lavender had it not happened
that just as he came up the veranda steps Patty appeared in the
doorway. Her pink cheeks were a little flushed from a romp with
the baby, a few stray curls had been pulled from their ribbon by
baby's chubby hands, and the laughing face was so fair and winsome
that Laurence Cromer stood stock-still and gazed at her.
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