Patricia by Emilia [pseud.] Elliott
page 5 of 83 (06%)
page 5 of 83 (06%)
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"If Aunt Julia could see you _now_! Why didn't I do all this first?
But--well, Aunt Julia's made up her mind; and she isn't exactly the changey kind. I wonder if you'd like it at the Millers'? They've got a lot of children, but they're ever so nice children! They've three dogs now, so one more oughtn't to count--and you'd have plenty of company." The dog, whose only present anxiety was to feel dry once more, merely rolled over on his back by way of answer. "Oh, but you mustn't!" Patricia protested. "You'll get all dirty again. I know it's horrid to feel too clean, but, you see, it's so necessary to make a good first impression! I reckon it was the first impression that made all the trouble with Aunt Julia this morning. Come on, we'll start right off; it's a pretty long walk to the Millers'." They went 'cross-lots, stopping for more than one romp by the way, one quite as light-hearted and irresponsible as the other; though behind Patricia lay more than one neglected task, and before her companion stretched a possibly homeless future. It was a nearly perfect June day, the blue sky overhead just flecked with soft, fleecy white clouds, and with enough breeze stirring to lift Patricia's short brown curls and fan her sunburned cheeks. Out on the highroad the wild roses were in bloom, and the air was full of soft summer sounds; the very birds hopping lightly about from fence to fence had a holiday air--and to Patricia there was something very friendly in the inquisitive cock of their pert little heads, as they stopped now and then to inspect her. |
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