had thought they would take a house, and so have a home of their own. But
Mr. Fairfield concluded that if Nan had the duties of a housekeeper, her
trip would not be a holiday, so he declared they would live at a large
hotel, and thus have a chance to observe the gay life of London.

And so cosy and comfortable were their apartments at the Savoy, that they
soon began to feel quite at home there. And Patty, as we all know, was
one who could adapt herself to any mode of living.

Of a naturally happy and contented disposition, she accepted everything
as it came, and enjoyed everything with the enthusiasm so often seen in
American girls.

It greatly amused her to note the differences between herself and the
English girls.

To her mind, they seemed to have no enthusiasm, no enterprise, and little
capacity for enjoyment, while Patty enjoyed every experience that came to
her, whether a visit to Windsor Castle, a day at Stratford, or a simple
afternoon tea in their own rooms.

"I seem to have been set back two or three years," she said to Nan, one
day. "In New York I was almost a full-fledged young lady, but over here,
I'm treated as a little girl."

"It doesn't matter," said Nan, sensibly. "You are what you are, and if
the different countries choose to treat you differently, it doesn't
matter, does it?"

"Not a bit. I'm Patty Fairfield, and I'm almost eighteen, whether I'm in
California or the Fiji Islands. But it does amuse me, the way the
Londoners think we live at home. They really believe American ladies go
to market in the morning, loaded down with diamonds. You don't often see
that in New York, do you, Nan?"

"No, I don't think I ever saw a New York matron wearing elaborate jewelry
to market. But then I never go to market myself, and I don't know many
people who do. I think that bediamonded marketer story is an old
tradition, which is really pretty well worn out."

"And the London ladies needn't talk, anyway. If we did wear jewels to
market, it wouldn't be a bit more absurd than the way they dress to go
shopping in the morning. Long, trailing, frilly gowns of pink and blue
chiffon, with swishing lace-ruffled petticoats, that just drag through
the dirt of the streets."

"Now aren't you criticising them as unfairly as they describe us?"

"No, for what I say is true. I've seen them fluttering about. And,
anyway, I don't mean to be mean. I like them lots. I just love the London
ladies, they're so kind to me, and