Channing. "We're ignoramuses, Mona and I, and we want to talk about
less highbrow subjects."

"Count me on your side," said a smiling girl, whose big gray eyes took
on a look of awe at the turn the conversation had taken. "I don't know
if Ike Walton is a book or a steamboat!"

The speaker was Beatrice Gale, a neighbour of the Farnsworths. She was
pretty and saucy looking,--a graceful sprite, with a dimpled chin, and
soft brown hair, worn in moppy bunches over her ears. She was called
Betty by her friends, and Patty and Bill had already acquired that
privilege.

"Now, Betty," and Patty shook her head at her, "you are a college
graduate as well as a débutante,--you _must_ know old Ike!"

"But I don't! You see, my début meant so much more to me than my
commencement, that all I ever learned at college flew out of my head
to make room for all I'm going to learn in society."

"Have you much left to learn?" asked Elise, looking at the piquant face
that seemed to show its owner decidedly conversant with the ways of the
world,--at least, her own part in it.

"Oh, indeed, yes! I only know how to smile and dance. I'm going to learn
flirting, coquetry and getting engaged!"

"You're ambitious, little one," remarked Van Reypen. "Have you chosen
your instructors?"