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Page 56
"Of course I don't mean all this," she said, suddenly speaking in
a matter-of-fact tone.
"But I do, and I shall hold you to it. You know I have your
blossom wreath; I've saved it as a souvenir of last night."
"That forlorn bit of drowned finery! Oh, Little Billee, I thought
you were poetical! No poet could keep such a tawdry old souvenir
as that!"
"It isn't tawdry. I dried it carefully, and picked the little
petals all out straight, and it's really lovely."
"Then if it's in such good shape, I wish you'd give it back to me
to wear. I was fond of that wreath."
"No, it's mine now. I claim right of salvage. But I'll give you
another in place of it,--if I may."
Patty didn't answer this, for Daisy, tired of being neglected,
leaned her head over between the two, and commenced chattering.
The two girls were well wrapped up in coats and veils Mona had
brought them, but they were both glad when they came in sight of
"Red Chimneys."
Patty went gaily off to her own rooms, saying she was going to
have a bath and a breakfast, and then she was going to sleep for
twenty-four hours.
"I'm not," announced Daisy. "I'm going to make a straight dive for
the breakfast room. Come with me, Bill, and see that I get enough
to eat."
Roger, Mona, and the Kenerleys were going for an ocean dip, and
Laurence Cromer, who was a late riser, had not yet put in an
appearance. Aunt Adelaide was with Patty, hearing all about the
adventure, so Bill was obliged to accept Daisy's rather peremptory
invitation.
"What's the matter with you, Bill?" asked the girl, as she threw
off her motor coat and sat at the table in her low-necked party
gown.
"Nothing. I say, Daisy, why don't you go and get into some togs
more suitable for 9 A.M.?"
"Because I'm hungry. Yes, James, omelet, and some of the fried
chicken. Bill, don't you like me any more?"
"Yes, of course I do. But you ought to act more,--more polite, you
know."
"Oh, fiddlesticks! You mean more finicky,--like that paragon,
Patty. You think she's perfect, because she never raises her voice
above a certain pitch, and she expects all you men to lie down and
let her walk over you."
"She MAY walk over me, if she likes; and I want you to stop
speaking of her in that slighting way, Daisy."
"Oh, you do, do you? And, pray, what right have you to say HOW I
shall speak of her?"
"The right that any man has, to take the part of one who is
absent."
"You'd like to have more rights than that, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe I would, but I'm not confiding in you."
"You don't have to. Yours is an open secret. Everybody can see
you're perfectly gone on that little pink and white thing!"
"That will do, Daisy; don't say another word of that sort!" and
Bill's voice was so stern and tense that Daisy stopped, a little
frightened at his demeanour.
What he might have said further, she never knew, for just then Guy
Martin and Lora Sayre came strolling into the room.
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