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Page 39
The veranda presented a gay scene--afternoon tea was in progress,
and as some of the Spring Beach young people had dropped in, there
were several groups at small tables, or sitting on the veranda
steps and railings.
"I've saved a lovely seat for you," said Laurence Cromer,
advancing to Patty; "just to show you that I'm of a forgiving
nature."
"Why, what have I done to be forgiven for?" asked Patty, opening
her blue eyes wide in surprise.
"You've spoiled your good looks, for one thing. You HAD a little
head sunning over with curls, and now you have the effect of a
nice little girl who has washed her face and hands and neatly
brushed her hair."
"But one can't go around like Slovenly Peter," said Patty,
laughing, as she took the wicker chair he placed for her.
"Why not, if one is a Pretty Peter?"
"Oh, pshaw, I see you don't know me very well. I never talk to
people who talk about me."
"Good gracious, how can they help it?" "Well, you see, I'm
accustomed to my girl and boy friends, whom I've known for years.
But here, somehow, everybody seems more grown up and societyfied."
"How old are you?"
"It's my impression that that's a rude question, though I'm not
sure."
"It isn't, because you're not old enough to make it rude. Come,
how old?"
"Nineteen, please, sir."
"Well, that's quite old enough to drop boy and girl ways and
behave as a grown-up."
"But I don't want to," and Patty's adorable pout proved her words.
"That doesn't matter. Your 'reluctant feet' have to move on
whether they wish to or not. Are you bashful?"
"Sorta," and Patty put her finger in her mouth, with a shy simper.
"You're anything but bashful! You're a coquette!"
"Oh, no!" and Patty opened her eyes wide in horror. "Oh, kind sir,
DON'T say THAT!"
But Cromer paid no heed to her words; he was studying her face.
"I'm going to paint you," he announced, "and I shall call it
'Reluctant Feet.' Your head, with its aureole of curls; your wide
eyes, your baby chin--"
"Oh, Roger!" cried Patty, as young Farrington came toward her.
"What DO you think? Mr. Cromer is going to paint a picture of my
head and call it 'Reluctant Feet'! He says so."
"Yes," said Cromer, unconscious of any absurdity; "Miss Fairfield
is a fine subject."
"That's better than being called an object," said Roger, joining
them, "and you DID look an object, Patty, when I arrived! Your wig
was all awry,--and--"
"You haven't a soul for art?" said Cromer, looking solemnly at
Roger.
"No, I haven't an artful soul, I fear. How are you getting along,
Patty, down here without your fond but strict parents?"
"Getting along finely, Roger. Aunt Adelaide plays propriety, and
Mona and I keep house."
"H'm, I'm 'fraid I scared off our long-haired friend," said Roger,
as Cromer rose and drifted away. "Never mind, I want to talk to
you a little myself. I say, Patsy, don't you let these men flatter
you till you're all puffed up with pride and vanity."
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