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"Upon my word, you're a classy young 'un," she grinned. "Come again soon and give us some more." "Do you mean Elizabeth March, who got the Tassel prize this year?" asked Patricia in surprise. "Why, I saw her last week at the exhibition and she was awfully prim looking." "Out of your smoking-room, I presume," said Lady Meg, "But I have not questioned him, as I thought it best that you should examine him yourself.".

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"Good old Norn!" she cried, with a mighty hug. "I told you that you were the real stuff! Ju and I are mighty proud of our big sister, aren't we, Ju?" And when that conflagration was lighted in me about my début, Tom did it. I was sitting peaceably in my own summer-house, dressed in the summer-before-last that Jane washes and irons every day while I am deciding how to hand out the first sip of my trousseau to the neighbours, when Tom, in a dangerous blue-striped shirt, with a tie that melted into it in tone, jumped over my fence and landed at my side. He kissed the lace ruffle on my sleeve while I reproved him severely and settled down to enjoy him. But I didn't have such a good time as I generally do with him. He was too full of another woman, and even a first cousin can be an exasperation in that condition. "Dying!" cried Patricia, aghast. "Why they said she was better this morning." "Now, Mrs. Molly, truly did you ever see such a flower as she is?" he demanded after I had expressed more than a dozen delighted opinions of Miss Clinton. His use of the word "flower" riled me, and before I stopped to think, I said, "She reminds me more of a scarlet runner.".