"
"Daddy!" Patricia made swift calculation on the tips of her fingers; it
was Monday night--twice four made eight--eight pitfalls to be avoided or
else--Not once since her coming had grandmother failed to take Patricia
somewhere on Saturday afternoon.
All of this was in Patricia's gray eyes, as she lifted them appealingly
to her father. "Daddy, if you _could_ make it something else?"
"Are you going to give up the fight beforehand, Pat?"
"But you see, Daddy," Patricia quoted gravely, "I 'know my limitations.'
And besides, it isn't just me--grandmother'll be so disappointed; you
know we always go somewhere together Saturday afternoon."
"Which means a double reason for coming up to the mark, Patricia," the
doctor answered; and Patricia, with a little sigh, turned away.
She and Custard were alone in the sitting-room a little later, when Mrs.
Cory came in. Grandmother glanced at the sober face. "Is anything wrong,
dear?" she asked.
"I'm positive I can't make it," Patricia said forlornly.
"Make what?"
And Patricia explained.
"Of course you can, dear," grandmother said cheerily; "and indeed you
must; I've got a very special reason for wanting you to--I'm not going
to tell you what it is, however, until Saturday morning at breakfast.
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