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Wells, Carolyn, 1862-1942

"Patty's Butterfly Days"

But if we're going to fit into the picture soon
to assemble in Mona's dining-room, we must make a start in that
direction. Mr. Farnsworth--"
"Call me Bill, oh, DO call me Bill!"
"Why should I?"
"Because I want you to; and because I think you might make that
much concession to my Western primitiveness and
unceremoniousness."
"But I don't like the name of Bill. It's so,--so--"
"So uncouth? Yes, it is. But I'm not the sort to be called
William. Well, DO call me something pleasant and amiable."
"I'll call you Little Billee. That's Thackeray's, and therefore,
it's all right. Now, can you slip me back into my own apartments
as quietly as you took me away?"
"Of course I can, as it's nearly dark now. Here we go!"
He aided her up the stairs, and along the balcony to her own
windows. Patty sprang lightly over the low sill, and waved her
hand gaily as she pulled down her blinds and flashed on the
electric lights. Then she rang for Janet, and found that a hurried
toilette was necessary if she would be prompt at dinner.
One of Patty's prettiest evening frocks was a dainty French thing
of white chiffon, decked with pale green ribbons and exquisite
artificial apple blossoms made of satin.


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