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Wells, Carolyn, 1862-1942

"Patty's Butterfly Days"

Jack had
acquiesced, and had done as he was told, but Bill had been the
moving spirit. What good sense he had shown! And with what
forgetfulness of self he had accepted his own hard part of the
performance. Of course the boys wouldn't have to walk all the way
to Spring Beach. Of course they would manage somehow to get a
conveyance, but Bill had not bothered about such details; he had
seen his way, and had walked straight out into it. Surely he was a
splendid man,--a big, fine man,--and--he had taken her apple-
blossom wreath,--and he had put it in his pocket,--because--
because--
And even as she thought of Bill's confiscation of her flowers,
Patty's golden head drooped a little, the long lashes fell over
her blue eyes, and in the sheltering depths of the soft-cushioned
chair, she fell sound asleep.
A few hours later she awoke. At first she couldn't realise where
she was, then, like a flash, the truth came to her. Greatly
refreshed by her nap, she jumped up, smiling.
The fire was out, so she rekindled it, and proceeded to don her
dried but sadly wilted looking party dress. She hesitated a
moment, and then concluded to wake Daisy, as a rescuing party
might arrive at any minute.
Daisy sat up on her couch, and rubbed her eyes.


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