"
"Yes, but how? I think I'd better telephone the dinner guests not
to come."
"I'd hate to do that. They're Adele's friends, and she's so
anxious to have them come here."
"I know it, but what can we do? I won't let you cook again."
"No, I don't want to cook dinner. Luncheon seems different,
somehow. But I do believe if I take Camilla, and scour all the
plains around Spring Beach, I can catch something that can cook."
"I'd hate to have a poor cook."
"Yes, I know; I mean a first-class cook, though, perhaps not a
chef."
"Well, go ahead, Patty, but you'll have to start at once. Your
cook ought to be here by four, and it's almost three now."
"'I slip, I slide, I gleam, I glance,'--what comes next? Never
mind, I'll just scoot."
Throwing on a white pongee dust cloak over her pretty frock, Patty
declared herself ready to start, and Mona ordered an electric
runabout brought from the garage.
But Miss Patricia Fairfield had no intention of going alone upon
her quest. Walking up to a group of men talking on the veranda,
she paused in front of Farnsworth.
"I want you," she said, calmly.
"I am yours," he responded with equal calm, and throwing away his
cigar, turned to go with her.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231