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"Dat so; but I not see dat debble-stick." "Is your laurel wreath on good and tight, Judy?" asked Bruce with a twinkle. "I'm going to beg Elinor to have hers tied on with nice little blue ribbons. Miss Pat is on the rampage for fame, and it isn't safe to take chances." "Yes," said Jen to himself that night, as he retired to bed, "to-day I have learned sufficient to implicate Etwald; to-morrow I shall be able to convict him. Dido must confess or go to prison.".
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"Why, it's dandy, Elinor Kendall!" she cried. "It'll be perfectly lovely if you can put it through even as well as you've managed it here. Judy was drawing it mild!" Patricia had known Geraldine Leighton in a very slight and casual way, but with the word "dying," she became the heroic center of her hurrying thoughts. She saw her in the dim room with Doris and the nurse and doctor, each agonizingly intent on the slow, faltering heart-beats and the fitful, irregular breathing. As her swift mind galloped on to the end, and the subdued sounds of grief caught her inner ear, another face began to print itself rapidly on that quick-moving scene—Doris, white and haggard, looked into her eyes, and she felt her whole heart go out to her. "Lots of time for it," said Patricia, yawning and flinging herself down on the wide couch. "The men aren't through in there for more than an hour yet." "Griffin says not to wait—she's got to finish stretching a canvas," Margaret Howes told them, but Patricia and Judith would not hear to beginning the little feast without the staunch and genial Griffin..
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