"
Miss Kirby sat down, surveying her niece in silence for a moment.
Patricia had frankly stated a quite undeniable fact; and she had no
desire to put the matter to the test. "Very well," she said, presently,
"we will wait until to-morrow morning."
"But that would be ever so much worse," Patricia pleaded. "I do so hate
waiting for things. I thought--maybe--if I went straight to bed--you'd
skip the--talk part, this time. I'm very tired; finding a home for a dog
takes it out of you a lot. People 'round here don't seem very anxious to
have dogs. And--I went considerably beyond bounds--so I've got Daddy to
settle with yet. All the same, I did find him a home, Aunt Julia--I
haven't got that on my mind."
Miss Kirby rose, and going over to the bed bent and kissed the tired,
wistful face. Patricia had a fashion of exciting sympathy at the wrong
time, in a way that was perilous to discipline. "For this time, then,
Patricia," she said. "Now I must go downstairs."
Left to herself, Patricia suddenly remembered that there was to be
strawberry shortcake for supper. Oh, dear, if only Custard had chosen
any other day to drift across her path! A sent-to-bed bed-supper meant
simply bread and milk.
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