Patty Blossom. Wells Carolyn

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      "It's this way," said Roger, at last, when they had talked over the whole thing thoroughly, "Mona and I are considering our future,—yes, even our old age! And, so, there are some points that we want to discuss alone. Therefore, and wherefore, my friends,—my future wife and I will, if you please, go apart by ourselves for a bit of confidential chat."

      "Good gracious, Roger," said Patty, "anybody would think you two were married already!"

      "Same as," Roger retorted; "especially in matters of real estate, and future dwelling-houses and such things. But, really, what I'm going to do, is, to try to persuade, cajole, or coerce Mona into selling the place; for I know she doesn't really want it, only today, in the glamour of this firelight glow, it seems attractive to her. So, I must needs convince her of my superior judgment."

      The two went off, laughing, and Philip sat down again beside Patty.

      "How happy they are together," he said, musingly.

      "Yes; I'm thoroughly glad for them. I never saw a pair better suited to one another. Roger adores the ground Mona walks on, yet he knows just how to manage her–"

      "Do you think a man ought to 'manage' the woman he loves?"

      "If necessary, yes. At least he should know how to."

      "And do you think I know how to manage you?"

      "I don't want to be managed,—I can manage myself," Patty smiled, roguishly. "But since you ask me, Phil, no, I don't think you do know how to manage me,—not the least little mite!"

      "Teach me then, dear. I'll do just what you say."

      "All right. First, you must not scold me if I like people whom you don't like."

      "Oh, hang! I had forgotten all about those bumptious lumps! Why remind me?"

      "Because it's a case in point. If you care for me, you must care for the things or people that I care for."

      "But, Patty,—since you've brought up the subject, let's have it out. You can't like those humbugs,—those fake brainsters,—those sap-head pharisees–"

      "Phil, suppose you stop calling them names, which mean nothing, and tell me just what it is you have against them."

      "There's everything against them, Patty, and nothing for them. They pretend to wisdom, knowledge, and genius that they don't possess. They fake up a lot of patter talk and pass it off for philosophy, or psychology, or lord knows what! And there isn't an ounce of brains in the whole fool bunch of them! That's what makes me mad! They fool you into believing their drivel is wisdom, and it isn't!"

      "How do you know? You haven't such a lot of that sort of knowledge yourself."

      "What sort of knowledge?"

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