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 FLAMING

YOUTH

17

that his wife had been taken to the hospital after a mild attack, more for rest than anything else; that no member of the family was to come over, and that she would be in condition to return home in a few days. This latter was true, for Mona’s recuperative powers were great. None of the family came. But to Osterhout’s surprise, he ran upon Patricia while walking down Broad Street on Sunday. She was with a pretty and smartly dressed girl a little older than herself. “What are you doing here, Pat?” he demanded.

amusing in one so young she indicated her companion. “She’s my b.f. at school. Cissie, this is Dr. Bobs. You know about him.” “Yes, indeed.
 * Week-ending with Cissie Parmenter.” With an aplomb

How d’you do, Dr. Osterhout.”

“And what manner of creature is a b.f.?” asked he quizzically, taking the extended hand which was ornamented with a valuable ruby. “Best friend, of course, stupid Bobs,” returned Pat. “What kind of a bat are you on down here?” “Your mother’s been ill. She’s in hospital here,” he answered and immediately wondered whether he had not spoken unwisely. “Hospital?” Pat opened wide eyes. “Is it dangerous?” “No. She’s coming along very well.” “Take me to see her.” She turned to Cissie. “I’m plunged, Ciss, but the luncheon’s off for me. ‘Tell the boys. You may have my c.t. See you this afternoon.” “J don’t know that you ought—” began Osterhout, but was cut short by a quick: “Then she’s worse than you pretend.” “No; but I don’t want her excited. However, you may see her,” he decided. He took her to the hospital and left her there with her mother. On his return for his evening’s visit he asked: