most of all anxious to get this strange intruder off the premises.

"Go away, little girl, and take that horrid dog with you," Miss Jane
commanded, shaking a stick she had picked up.

Patricia's eyes flashed. "I'm not '_little girl_.' I'm _Patricia Kirby_!"

"Pa-tri-cia Kir-by! Upon my word!"

Patricia's bare curls were blown and tangled; her face, hot and dusty;
her blue gingham frock, fresh that morning, between water and dust was a
sight to behold. She bore very little resemblance to the Patricia Kirby
Miss Jane was accustomed to see in church on Sunday, or sometimes
driving about with Dr. Kirby.

"Whatever are you doing alone so far from home, Patricia?" Miss Susan
asked, coming up. The cat had retired to the shelter of a tall tree,
from a branch of which she glared down on her pursuer, who lay hot and
panting on the ground below.

Patricia pointed to the dog. "Why, I came on purpose to bring you
him--for a present, you know."

Miss Jane gasped.

"He's a very nice dog," Patricia went on. "I'd love to keep him for
myself; only Aunt Julia--Aunt Julia seemed to think one dog was enough.
I don't think Aunt Julia is particularly--enthusiastic, about dogs. You
would like him, wouldn't you?"