And how delightful to know that one was the object of both
envy and interest to the other girls; to be able to show the tiniest of
enameled watches, straight from Paris; to have a grandmother who had
actually been in Egypt, and had seen the king and queen of England.
Patricia held her head very high in these days.
Yet at times there was an odd, barely defined feeling of something like
regret at the bottom of Patricia's heart.
This new grandmother was the best of chums and companions, but somehow
it was hard to realize that she was really a _grandmother_. And
before Patricia's inward gaze would pass the picture of a little
white-capped old lady, quietly knitting at one corner of the fireplace;
an old lady whose big Dutch pocket held an unfailing supply of ginger
nuts and peppermint drops, whose stories were all of those far-off days
when "I was a little girl."
But only at times; as a rule these days were too full for Patricia to
find time for inner visions.
"You're the luckiest girl, Patricia Kirby," Patricia's particular chum,
Nell Hardy, declared one morning on the way to school. "I think Mrs.
Cory's perfectly lovely; she always acts as if she was ever so glad to
see you.
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