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Updated: May 19, 2025
They conversed genially enough, for a time, until an unfortunate remark of Aunt Jane's which seemed to asperse her father's character aroused Patricia's ire. Then she loosened her tongue, and in her voluable Irish way berated her aunt until poor Phibbs stood aghast at such temerity, and even Mr. Watson, who arrived to enquire after his client and friend, was filled with amazement.
Elinor, who was waiting for her in the anteroom, saw her shining face before she spoke, and knew that all had gone well with her. "Dear Miss Pat," she said softly, slipping her arm into Patricia's as they went out of the wide front door. "So it has all come out well, and you are really going to be a singer some day! How glad I am that you have passed this first test."
Some of the swarm about the mirrors turned at Patricia's exclamation, and with generous admiration pressed back upon themselves so that for a moment the dark, serious beauty of the Princess of China flashed out at Elinor from the long oblong of the glass, filling her lovely eyes with a gratified light and flushing her tinted cheeks a deeper pink.
Something in the peaceful loveliness stirred Patricia she wished that the day were dark and grim. It seemed incongruous to take to the down path Patricia was not blinded by her lure while the whole world was flooded with gold and azure. Then Patricia's angel had a word to say. "Who would care, anyway?" the girl questioned her upstanding angel "in all the world, who would care?
The courtyard was light with torches and the entrance was ablaze with torches and the windows across the quadrangle she could see figures moving to and fro, shadows fell on the curtained oblongs and inside the open ones she saw girls who were late in dressing getting frantically ready, others who were putting on their gloves, and still others with their guests even making ready to go down to the ball-room, which was the transformed tea-room not to be seen from Patricia's point of vantage.
It was on the tip of Patricia's tongue to suggest that she give them some hints of the inner workings of Artemis Lodge, but at that moment Margaret Howes came in, and there was all the exclaiming and wondering over the coincidence of Doris' presence to be gone over again, until the arrival of a maid with a basket of hot buns put an end to their talk with the tea-mistress.
And then and there vanished forever from Patricia's heart that picture of a placid, wrinkled little old lady, knitting quietly at one corner of the fireplace. "There!" Patricia stepped back, with a sigh of satisfaction. "It's all ready for the presents.
In October, 1920, the Stadium in this park was formally opened. It was the gift of Percival Molson, B.A., who graduated in Arts in 1901, and who was killed in action in front of Avion, near Lens, on July 3rd, 1917, while serving as a Captain in the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry.
I suppose I should have confided in some one before, but until a few hours ago I did not feel that I had the privilege." Sally's golden brown eyes with the heavy upcurling lashes, which gave to her face the expression of unusual softness, were now gazing upward into Miss Patricia's. The latter's eyes were gallant also and steadfast, nor did Sally find them so distrustful as she had anticipated.
She had the comforting conviction that when Daddy knew all he would not be very displeased with her. More than once, during that recital, the doctor's mouth twitched under his mustache, and he turned rather suddenly to look out of the window. "But, Pat," he exclaimed, as she finished, "what made it so imperative for you to find that tramp dog a home?" Patricia's gray eyes were very earnest.
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