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"I begs!" said Battersea, candidly. "And when I can't get nuffin I steals." Patricia curled up cozily while Miss Jinny read the two Sunday chapters in a full, melodious voice, beginning with the ineffable words, "In my Father's house are many mansions." "How mean!" cried Patricia spiritedly. "Bruce hasn't even seen that study. What did he say about it?".

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The feast was half over when Patricia, who sat between Margaret Howes and Griffin and opposite to the adorable Doris Leighton, got a distinct shock. "When will the prizes be announced?" she asked breathlessly, as the door clicked in its lock. "Shall we have to wait long?" "Just as you say, Miss Solomon," rippled Patricia, too happy to be depressed by anything. "I'll be as frigid as you like, and if any of these frivolous young things try to scrape an acquaintance with me, I'll snub them good and hard." As she went out of the gate the postman came in, and at the sight of another letter my heart slunk off into my slippers, and my brain seemed about to back up in a corner and refuse to work. In a flash it came to me that men oughtn't to write letters to women very much—they really don't plough deep enough, they just irritate the top soil. I took this missive from Alfred, counted all the fifteen pages, put it out of sight under a book, looked out of the window and saw Mr. Johnson shooed off down the street by Mrs. Johnson; saw the doctor's car go chugging hurriedly in the garage, and then my spirit turned itself to the wall and refused to be comforted. I tried my best, but failed to respond to my own remonstrances with myself, and tears were slowly gathering in a cloud of gloom when a blue gingham, romper-clad sunbeam burst into the room..