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 “Pat and Patty.” They were so called by relatives and friends during their engagement, and now that they had been married ten whole days, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Patterson wondered they had ever been known otherwise. Patty was wont to say she was “just Pat and a little more.” Pat and Patty were seated in the parlour car, ostensibly reading, but behind Patty’s novel an affair of the toilet was being carried on; she was furtively rubbing the “shine” off her dainty nose with “papier poudre,” while Pat, watching her unbeknownst, wondered if any other woman could have looked as fascinating under like circumstances. These innocent occupations were interrupted by the advent of the conductor and his companion. Patty, laying down “papier” and novel, smiled at the small boy, who brightened visibly.

“Poor little chap. Is he all alone?” she Rh