"
"But I think--" Mrs. Shaw began very soberly.
"Sometimes, I find it quite as well not to think things over," Mr.
Dayre suggested. "Why, dear me, I'd quite counted on Patience's being
here. You see, I'm not a regular member, either; and I want someone to
keep me in countenance."
So presently, Hilary felt a hand slipped eagerly into hers. "I'm
staying! I'm staying!" an excited little voice announced. "And oh, I
just love Mr. Dayre!"
Then Patience went back to her window seat to play the delightful game
of "making believe" she hadn't stayed. She imagined that instead, she
was sitting between father and mother in the gig, bubbling over with
the desire to "hi-yi" at Fanny, picking her slow way along.
The studio was empty, even the dogs were outside, speeding the parting
guests with more zeal than discretion. But after awhile Harry Oram
strolled in.
"I'm staying!" Patience announced. She approved of Harry. "You're an
artist, too, aren't you?" she remarked.
"So kind of you to say so," Harry murmured. "I have heard grave doubts
expressed on the subject by my too impartial friends."
"I mean to be one when I grow up," Patience told him, "so's I can have
a room like this--with just rugs on the floor; rugs slide so
nicely--and window seats and things all cluttery.
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