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Harley grinned.

“I'd hate to meet Mrs. Percival Quesne Langham at the bottom of the gully, or anywhere else, for the matter of that. I detest the woman.”

“So do I” replied Patricia viciously. “She’s poisonous! It’s one of the burdens I must bear for my sins that I have to be nice to the spiteful, gossiping snob. But there, business is business.”

“Is she a good customer?”

“Her husband must think so, if he judges by the bills I send him. I think she’s one of our worst. The figure of a draught-horse, and the taste of one! Presumes on her status in this small-town society to play the grand dame when she comes into the shop; and of course, we charge her accordingly.”

“She seems to spend a lot of her time lately in quizzing our place. I've suspected her of examining me through binoculars, as though I were an animal at the zoo.”

The fact did not seem to concern him vitally. He spoke with tolerant amusement, but Patricia saw nothing amusing in Mrs. Langham.

“I have an idea that the fitting of the evening gown was merely an excuse to get me alone so that she might pump me about you and—and Grace,” she said. “But she got nothing but a few jabs with pins for it if she did. Oh, I hate that woman! I’d dearly love the opportunity to topple her from her society perch. Good earth-dust is the only thing which will stop her mouth and blind her eyes!”

“Patricia! Temper!” chided Harley, possessing himself of her elbow and chuckling. “Tell me, what has she been saying about us to so upset you?”

“Lot’s of things,” exploded Patricia, and then became obstinately deaf to all his further questioning on the subject.

“Let us talk of something else, Jimmy,” she begged at last, turning her most radiant smile upon him and completely subjugating him. “The day is too wonderful to waste on unpleasant subjects.”