"I'm here," she said demurely, and trying to speak calmly.
"Oh, so you are," he said. "I thought a white cashmere whirlwind had
struck me. I _hope_ you didn't hurry yourself."
"Oh, no!" said Patty, meeting his merry smile with another. "I just
dawdled through my dressing to kill time."
"Yes, you look so," said her father, and just then the doorbell rang.
"Oh, papa," cried Patty, her eyes dancing with excitement, "_isn't_ it
just grand! That's the first ring at our own doorbell, our _own_
doorbell, you know; and hasn't it a musical ring? And now it will be
answered by our own Pansy."
Without a trace of the hurry and fluster that had so affected her young
mistress, Pansy Potts, in neat white cap and apron, opened the door to
the guests.
Patty nudged her father's arm in glee, as they noted the correct
demeanour of their own waitress, and then all such considerations were
drowned in the outburst of enthusiasm that accompanied the entrance of
the Elliotts. The younger members of the family announced themselves with
wild war-whoops of delight, and the older ones, though less noisy, were
no less enthusiastic.
"I like Cousin Patty's house," announced Gilbert, sitting down in the
middle of the floor. "I will stay here always. Where is the Pudgy
kitty-cat?"
"I'll get her for you, right away," said Patty. "She is fatter than ever;
but, first, let me make grandma comfortable."
Taking Mrs. Elliott's bonnet and wraps, Patty led the old lady to a large
easy-chair, and announced that she must sit there for a few moments and
rest, before she made a tour of inspection around the house.
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