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"Oh, then," said Etwald, turning toward Jen, "I am not to be accused of the murder." It was a brisk, sunny day, and they were waiting for Elinor on the steps of the Academy. Judith was looking very happy, and Patricia, while she had a perturbed air, was no less triumphant in her manner. "I'm getting too old to be treated like such a baby, Miss Pat," said Judith with great dignity. "I wish you wouldn't be so silly! How could I marry an old person like Mr. Hilton, anyway?".
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"I can't undertake to answer all that at once, Miss Pat," he said. "Let's go find what Elinor thinks about it." "I guess what you mean--Miss Dallas." Patricia laughed at Judith's expression, as she watched François whisk away to the dumb-waiter in the far corner of the little apartment, and roar stentorian commands in indistinguishable French to an unseen source of supply below. A heavy-shouldered dark man, whose workmanlike appearance was heightened by the torn and spotted linen apron he wore, came quietly over to Patricia, and, taking the wire from Miss Griffin's thin, nervous hands, silently and swiftly finished the work she had begun, while she, with a nod of acquiescence, went to her own stand and began to thump lumps of clay into shape about her own iron head-piece..
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