"But we'll see about that
later. Skip to bed now, Apple Blossom, and don't appear below
decks before noon to-morrow."
"No, I won't. I'm awful tired. Good-night, Little Billee."
"Good-night, Apple Blossom Girl," and Farnsworth held aside the
curtain as Patty stepped through the window.
A shower of flowers flew after her, for Bill had picked up his
remaining posies, and Patty laughed softly, as the curtain fell
and she stood in her room, surrounded by a scattered heap of
roses.
"Just like a theatrical lady," she said, smiling and bowing to an
imaginary audience, for Patty loved to "make-believe."
And then she took off her silver wreath and put it carefully away.
"Little Billee is SUCH a nice boy," she said, reflectively, as she
closed the box.
CHAPTER XVIII
A COQUETTISH COOK
"Hello, Pattypet," said Mona, appearing at Patty's bedside next
morning. "How's your chocolate? Does it suit you?"
"Delicious," said Patty, who was luxuriously nestling among her
pillows while she ate her breakfast.
"Well, make the most of it, for you'll never get anything more fit
to eat or drink in this happy home."
"What DO you mean?"
"Listen to my tale of woe. The chef and his wife have both left.
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