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Wells, Carolyn, 1862-1942

"Patty's Butterfly Days"


"Then we MUST try to get to that house," declared Patty. "I had no
idea it was so late. Come, people, no matter what the result, we
must TRY to reach shelter and civilisation."
"Right!" said Pennington. "It's the only thing to do. I remember
the house. There was no light in it, though."
"No; it's so late. But we can ring up the family, and they'll
surely take us in for the night."
"Not if they see us first!" exclaimed Bill. "Oh, Miss Fairfield,
you look like Ophelia with those flowers tumbling all over your
face!"
Patty laughed, and removing the apple-blossom wreath from her
head, was about to throw it away. But she felt it gently taken
from her hand in the darkness, and she somehow divined that
Farnsworth had put it in his pocket.
The combination of this sentimental act with the drenched
condition of the flower wreath--and, presumably, the pocket, was
too much for Patty, and she giggled outright.
"What ARE you laughing at?" snapped Daisy. "_I_ don't see anything
funny in this whole performance."
"Oh, DO think it's funny, Daisy," implored Patty, still laughing.
"Oh, DO! for it ISN'T funny at all, unless we MAKE it so by
thinking it IS so!"
"Stop talking nonsense," Daisy flung back.


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