All were delighted with the place. Aside from the picturesque ruined buildings and the eerie mysterious-looking old mill, there was a novel interest in the strange silent air of desertion that seemed to invest the place with an almost palpable loneliness. "I don't like it," said Patty. "Come on, let's go home." But to Marian's more romantic imagination it all seemed most attractive, so different was her temperament from that of her sunshiny, merry-hearted cousin. At last they did go home, and Patty chattered gaily all the way in order, as she said, to drive away the musty recollections of that forlorn old place. "How did you like it, Nan?" she asked, when they were all back at the hotel. "I thought it beautiful," said Nan, smiling. That evening there was a small informal dance in the parlours. Not a large hop, like the one given the week before, but Patty declared the small affair was just as much fun as the other. "I always have all the fun I can possibly hold, anyway," she said; "and what more can anybody have?" Toward the close of the evening Mr. Fairfield came up to Patty, who was sitting, with a crowd of merry young people, in a cosey corner of the veranda. "Patty," he said, "don't you want to come for a little stroll on the board walk?" "Yes, of course I do," said Patty, wondering a little, but always ready to go with her father. "Is Nan going?" "No, I just want you," said Mr. Fairfield. "All right," said Patty, "I'm glad to go." They joined the crowd of promenaders on the board walk, and as they passed Patty's favourite bit of beach she said: "That's where we girls sit and talk about our ambitions." "Yes, so I've heard," said Mr. Fairfield. "And what are your ambitions, baby?" "Oh, mine aren't half so grand and gorgeous as the other girls'. They want to do great things, like singing in grand opera and writing immortal books and things like that." "And your modest ambition is to be a good housekeeper, isn't it?" "Well, yes, papa; but not only that. I was thinking about it afterward by myself, and I think that the housekeeping is the practical part of it--and that's a good big part too--but what I really want to be is a lovely, good, _womanly_ woman, like Aunt Alice, you know. I don't believe she ever wanted to write books or paint pictures." "No she never did," said Mr. Fairfield, "and I quite agree with you that her ambitions are just as high and noble as those others you mentioned." "Well, I'm glad you think so, papa, for I was afraid I might seem to you very small and petty to have all my ambitions bounded by the four walls of my own home."