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"Did you see the Haldens on the train, Frad?" asked Patricia as she and David were talking aside by the studio window while Elinor was welcoming Tom Hughes and Griffin, Margaret Howes and Mr. Spicer, who had all arrived in a bunch, Tom having lagged behind to get a big sheaf of roses for Elinor, whom he admired immensely.
He stopped the car, and that fact awoke Duncan to a recollection of his surroundings. "What is it, Thompson?" he asked. "Why have you stopped?" Thompson was peering anxiously toward the jumbled mass of broken stone ahead of him, and there was an instant of silence before he replied. Then "There has been a wreck here, sir," he told his employer. Instantly, Duncan thought of Patricia.
"What I want to know is, how are we going to fix it up?" "Fix what up?" "Why, this business about collateral, and all that rot, with Patricia. How are we going to square ourselves? That's what I'd like to know! Maybe you can see a way out of it, but I'm darned if I can."
Patricia scrambled to her feet, and came slowly over to the edge of the lawn. Then, lifting her apron, she asked quietly: "Is my frock torn, Sarah, or isn't it?" "You knows it is, Miss P'tricia!" Patricia stretched out one slender leg. "Is my stocking torn, or isn't it?" Sarah groaned. Wheeling suddenly round, and still holding up her apron, Patricia demanded: "Is my frock dirty, or isn't it?"
Patricia shrugged her shoulders, and, again laughing softly, withdrew from Sally's embrace and began to ascend the steps.
Holding by the bank against which he had leaned, he dragged himself up and stood for an instant with eyes dark with pain; then, setting his lips, took a step forward. The bronze of his face paled, and beads of anguish stood upon his brow, but he took another step. Patricia, the tears running down her cheeks, came to him and put his arm around her shoulder.
A rap-a-tap-tap on the knocker sounded sharply and then, before either Judith or Elinor could move, the door was flung open and Patricia, followed by Bruce and Mrs. Spicer, rushed breathlessly in. "Oh, you darlings!" she cried, hugging them both at once. "Oh, how heavenly it is to be here, and how adorable you look!
But this heart that I found will take a long time to break. Proud anger will strengthen it at first; but one string will snap, and then another, and another, until, at last " she swept her arms abroad with a wild and desolate gesture. "What does she mean?" asked Sir Charles. "I do not know," answered Patricia. Margery rose and took up her leafy staff. "Come," she said.
"Oh, I am so excited!" said Patricia, as Maitland disappeared down the stairs. "I mean to dance with every one of the team. I know I am going to have a perfectly lovely time! But I would give them all up if I could have Captain Jack all the time." "Pig," said her sister, smiling at her. "Wretch," cried Vic, making a face. But Patricia was quite unabashed.
At most he vaguely understood that Patricia was having rather a hard time of it, and steadfastly drugged this knowledge by the performance of trivialities. He was eating a cucumber sandwich at the moment young Roger Musgrave came into the world, and by that action very nearly accomplished Patricia's death.
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