with embarrassment. Presently Anne hid her face in her hands and began to quiver.
“What is the matter?” whispered Patricia.
Anne only shook her head, and Patricia realized that the girl was in a paroxysm of laughter. It was contagious, and before long Pat and Katharine were in the same state.
“Stop that!” ordered Jane. “Think of something sad, and do it quick.”
With much effort and several relapses they finally succeeded in pulling themselves together, and fixed their eyes determinedly on the screen, not daring to glance at one another.
“That was just terrible!” exclaimed Jane in mock anger, when they were out upon the street again. “I’ll never go to a movie with you again, Patricia Randall!”
“I’m—awfully—sorry,” gasped Pat.
“You certainly act as if you were, quite overcome with grief,” said Anne.
“Did you ever in your life hear anything so funny as the way that man hollered—he fairly bellowed!” said Katharine.
“You do get into more scrapes, Pat,” commented Anne, “than anyone I ever met.”
“Don’t I?”
“Never mind,” said Jane soothingly, as they entered a confectionery store, “you mean well.”
“I think,” said Katharine, “that is about the worst thing one can say. ‘Oh, he means well.’ It seems like sort of damning with faint praise. Not that Jane meant it that way.”
Everybody laughed. Katharine was so unconscious of her inconsistency.
While they were waiting for their order, Patricia’s eyes, which were roving about the room in search of possible acquaintances, came to rest on the back of a tall figure two tables beyond theirs. As if compelled by her questioning gaze, the individual turned around, immediately jumped up, and crossed the room in two strides.
CHAPTER XVIII
A WEEK END
“Craig!” exclaimed Patricia, smiling up at the lanky youth. “Fancy seeing you here! And what are you doing?”
“Here on business,” was the brief response, as he shook Patricia’s hand enthusiastically.
“These are my friends—Anne Ford, Jane Temple, and Katharine Weldon,” continued Patricia, “who are spending the week end with me.”
Acknowledging the introduction, Craig looked inquiringly at Patricia. “May I sit down here and have my sweet with the Sweets.”
“We couldn’t possibly refuse after such a ‘sweet’ compliment as that,” laughed Patricia. “How long are you going to be in town?”
“Well, that depends. If I find what I’m looking for, I’ll go back almost immediately; if I don’t, I’ll go Sunday afternoon, anyhow.”
“How interesting and mysterious you sound!” remarked Katharine.
“Reporting’s a great game. Now tell me about yourselves,” leaning both elbows on the table and looking from one girl to another. With flattering attention the boy listened to the story of their drive home; gave a couple of short barks of amusement at their movie experience, then inquired what they intended to do on the morrow.
“Shop in the morning,” replied Patricia. “I always do the Sunday marketing when I’m home. I just love to poke around the stores and buy things. In the afternoon—I really don’t know yet.”
“How would it be if you all went to the ball game with me?” proposed Craig, carefully rubbing a drop of chocolate sauce off of his tie.
“Grand! But you’d be embarrassed to death escorting four females,” laughed Patricia.
“Don’t you believe it. I’d be the proudest fellow in the stand, and the most envied. That’s settled then,” as all the girls manifested their pleasure in the plan. “I’ll call for you at two o’clock,” he added, as they rose to go. “I’d offer to see you home, but I suppose you have your car?”
“Yes; it’s in a parking station. Why don’t we meet you at the Park tomorrow afternoon instead of your going way out to our house?”
“Not a bad idea, especially as I haven’t the least idea where you live.” Everybody laughed.
“97 Minton Road, in case you ever need to know,” said Patricia, smiling frankly up into the brown eyes and serious face above her.
“Thanks,” he said, making a note of the address. “Wait a minute,” he added, taking hold of her arm and steering her toward a candy counter. “Make up five pounds of the kinds selected,” he directed the prim clerk who came to take his order. Then, waving off the girls’ thanks, he was gone.
“Shall we each choose our favorites, to make up one-quarter of the box?” asked Patricia, turning to the other girls.
“Fine; and in quarter-or half-pound lots, so as to get variety,” said Katharine; and they all assented.
It was rather late when the girls finally reached home, but they settled down before the living room fireplace with the box of candy, and regaled Mr. and Mrs. Randall with chocolates and the story of their adventures. Mr. Randall finally drove them off to bed shortly after midnight.
“I’m going to stay in the car,” announced Katharine the next morning, when Patricia drew up in front of a large department store in the grocery department of which she intended to make several purchases. “I don’t care for marketing, and I do love to watch people hurrying along the streets.”
“As you like it,” replied Patricia, getting out, followed by Anne and Jane.
“Can you park here?” inquired Jane in surprise, as Patricia slammed the door.
“Not really supposed to, but I won’t be long; and I hardly think there’ll be any trouble.”
“I’ll entertain the cop,” offered Katharine magnanimously, “if he shows up.”
She had been watching the crowd for about ten minutes, when she noticed a big, red-faced policeman approaching, his eyes fixed indignantly upon the car in which she was sitting.
“Now I’m in for it!” she thought. “Why in time doesn’t Patricia come? She’s been gone an age.”
“You can’t park here, lady,” said the officer sternly. “Can’t you read?” pointing to the No Parking sign.
“No, sir,” replied Katharine demurely.
“You can’t!” exclaimed the man in surprise
“Not a word!” was the reply, and Katharine looked innocently at him.
“What nationality are you?”
“American, sir.”
The officer pushed back his hat
