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"That is no matter," replied her mother, coldly. "You must marry him." "I'll go on with it when I'm rested and Judy is fresh," she said contentedly. "If it goes on as rapidly as it has tonight, it will be ready to turn in at the end of the week. We have until Saturday night to put in our stuff, you know. You have to get yours in by noon, don't you?" "To shield the assassin?" gasped Jen, thunderstruck. "And who is the assassin?".

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Elinor was already half asleep when Patricia suddenly sat up with a mirthful gurgle. As she went out of the gate the postman came in, and at the sight of another letter my heart slunk off into my slippers, and my brain seemed about to back up in a corner and refuse to work. In a flash it came to me that men oughtn't to write letters to women very much—they really don't plough deep enough, they just irritate the top soil. I took this missive from Alfred, counted all the fifteen pages, put it out of sight under a book, looked out of the window and saw Mr. Johnson shooed off down the street by Mrs. Johnson; saw the doctor's car go chugging hurriedly in the garage, and then my spirit turned itself to the wall and refused to be comforted. I tried my best, but failed to respond to my own remonstrances with myself, and tears were slowly gathering in a cloud of gloom when a blue gingham, romper-clad sunbeam burst into the room. "We intend doing so." Patricia felt sorry for Elinor and Bruce that they should be marooned among the elder and more serious members of the party, but, as David pointed out to her in an answering whisper, they seemed uncommonly satisfied where they were and not at all in need of sympathy..