At last, he said: “It was a prank, and I cannot say I think it was an admirable performance. But young folks will be young folks, and I trust I’m not so old and grouty as to frown on innocent fun. To my mind, this came perilously near not being entirely innocent, but I’m not going to split hairs about it. I don’t care for such jokes myself, but I must admit, Cameron, you played it pretty cleverly. And you certainly did your share toward lessening any anxieties that might have been caused to other people. So there’s my hand on it, boy, but if you’ll take an older man’s advice, put away these childish pranks as you take on the dignity of years.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fairfield,” said Cameron, “you make me feel almost ashamed of myself; but, truly, sir, I am addicted to jokes. I can’t seem to help it!”
The handsome face was so waggish and full of sheer, joyous fun, that they all laughed and the matter was amicably settled.
“But I want my picture,” Cameron said, as he rose to go.
“And you shall have it,” said Patty, running out of the room.
She returned with a cabinet photograph, wrapped in a bit of tissue paper.
“Please appreciate it,” she said, demurely, “for never before have I given my photograph to a young man. They say it is an excellent likeness of me.”
Cameron removed the paper, and saw a picture of Patty taken at the age of two years.
It was a lovely baby picture, with merry eyes and smiling lips.
The quick-witted young man betrayed none of the disappointment he felt, and only said, “It is indeed a striking likeness! I never saw a better photograph! Thank you, a thousand times.”
Then, amid the general laughter that ensued, Cameron went away.
The Fairfields discussed the whole matter, and Patty finally summed up the consensus of opinion, by saying: “Well, I don’t care! It was an awfully good joke, and he’s an awfully nice boy!”
One afternoon Patty and Marie Homer were coming home from a concert.
Patty had grown very fond of Marie. They were congenial in many ways, and especially so in their love of music, and often went together to concerts or recitals.
It was late in March, but as spring had come early the afternoon was warm and Marie proposed, as the two girls got into the Homer limousine, that they go for a ride through the park.
“A short one, then,” said Patty, “for I must be home fairly early!”
“Then don’t let’s go in the park,” said Marie, “let’s go to my house, instead. For I want you to meet Bee. She’s just home for her Easter vacation.”
“I can only stay a minute; but I will go. I do want to see Bee. How long will she be at home?”
“More than a fortnight. She has quite a holiday. Oh, there’ll be gay doings while Bee’s at home. She keeps the house lively with her pranks, and if she and Kit get started they’re sure to raise mischief.”