your book."

"Yes, I was,--I was. But I'll try to make amends. Come, let's go and have
some dinner."

Taking Patty's hand, Cousin Tom strode along the saloon, and down the
stairs, and Patty almost had to run to keep up with his long steps.

"Now," said he, as they seated themselves at a table and an obsequious
waiter began to put ice and then water into their glasses. "Now, what would
you like to eat?"

"Oh, anything at all," said Patty, gaily, "I'm hungry enough to eat,--I
don't know what."

"Yes, yes, of course you are,--poor child,--so sorry I forgot you,--quite
inexcusable of me."

Mr. Fleming was looking over the bill of fare as he talked, and then he
looked doubtfully at Patty, as if uncertain what he ought to order for her.

"What would you like for your dinner, child? Now don't say you don't care,
or that you'll leave it to me, for little girls always say that, and I
declare I don't know what you ought to have."

"All right," said Patty, who was quite equal to the occasion. "Let's have
some lobster mayonnaise, and some mushrooms under glass, and little tiny
clams, and tutti-frutti and a Dewey Punch."

Cousin Tom stared at her in amazement.