"What boys? and what _is_ a scrap? Patty, now that you're out, you mustn't use those slang words you're so fond of." "Nan," and Patty shook her spoon solemnly at her stepmother, "I've come to realise that there is slang and slang. Now, the few little innocent bits I use, don't count at all, because I just say them for fun and to help make my meaning clear. But that man last night,--that Lansing man,--why, Nan, his slang is altogether a different matter." "Well, Patty, he, himself, seems to be an altogether different matter from the people we know." "Yes, doesn't he? And yet, Nan, he isn't so bad. Well, anyway, let me tell you what Mr. Galbraith says." "That's just it!" declared Nan, after Patty had finished her story. "That man _is_ a fortune-hunter, and he means to try to marry Mona for the sake of her father's money!" "Oh, my!" exclaimed Patty, laughing; "isn't it grand to be grown up! I see I'm mixed up in a matrimonial tangle already!" "Nothing of the sort, you foolish child! There won't be any matrimonial tangle. Mr. Galbraith is quite right; this man must be discouraged, and Mona must be made to see him in his true light." "But, Nan, he isn't so awful. You know, sometimes he was quite fascinating." "Yes, you think that, because he has big dark eyes and rolled them at you." "Goodness! it sounds like a game of bowls. No, I don't mean that; but--well, I'll tell you what I do mean. He said we weren't fair to him, to judge him adversely, not knowing anything about him. And I think so, too, Nan; it doesn't seem fair or right to say a man is a bounder,--that's what Roger called him,--when we don't know anything about him, really." "Patty, you're a goose! Don't you suppose we'll find out about him? Of course, _we_ can't, but your father and Mr. Galbraith,--yes, and Roger Farrington, will soon find out his standing." "Well," said Patty, with a relieved sigh, "then I needn't bother about _him_ any more. But, Nan, I have troubles of my own. Philip and Roger are both mad at me!" "Goodness! Patty, how awful! Do you suppose they'll stay mad all day?" "Oh, it isn't just a momentary tiff; they are up and down angry! Why, neither of them danced with me or even spoke to me after supper last night!" "Well, it was probably your own fault." "My own fault, indeed! It was all because of that horrid Lansing man. Well, if they want to stay mad, they may! _I_ shan't make any advances." "Don't worry, my child. Into each life some little squabbles must fall,--and though you're fairly good-natured, as a rule, you can't expect it always to be smooth sailing."