"
"She certainly has. Only, not too many details, Pauline. Patience is
of such a confiding disposition."
"Patience," Pauline called, "suppose we go see if there aren't some
strawberries ripe?"
Patience ran off for a basket. Strawberries! As if she didn't know
they were only a pretext. Grown people were assuredly very queer--but
sometimes, it was necessary to humor, their little whims and ways.
"I don't believe they are ripe yet," she said, skipping along beside
her sister. "O Paul, is it--nice?"
"Mother thinks so!"
"Don't you?"
"Maybe I will--after a while. Hilary isn't to go away."
"Is that what you wrote and asked Uncle Paul? And didn't you ask for
us all to go?"
"Certainly not--we're not sick," said Pauline, laughing.
"Miranda says what Hilary needs is a good herb tonic!"
"Miranda doesn't know everything."
"What is Uncle Paul going to do then?"
"Send some money every month--to have good times with at home."
"One of those blue paper things?"
"I suppose so," Pauline laughed.
"And _you_ don't call that _nice_! Well of all the ungratefullest
girls! Is it for us _all_ to have good times with? Or just Hilary?"
"All of us.
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