No one knows where the next one might carry us--to Timbuktu or Yucatan, probably.
Let's stick to California and settle the question before your hothouse brain grows any more weeds." "Yucatan," remarked Mr.Merrick, composedly, his voice muffled by the handkerchief, "isn't a bad suggestion." "I knew it!" wailed the Major.

"How would Ethiopia or Hindustan strike you ?" Patsy laughed at him.

She knew something good was in store for her and like all girls was enraptured at the thought of visiting new and interesting scenes.
"Don't bother Uncle John, Daddy," she said.

"You know very well he will carry out any whim that seizes him; especially if you oppose the plan, which you usually do." "He's the most erratic and irresponsible man that ever lived," announced her father, staring moodily at the spread handkerchief which covered Uncle John's cherub-like features.

"New York is good enough for anybody, even in winter; and now that you're in society, Patsy--" "Oh, bother society! I hate it." "True," he agreed; "it's a regular treadmill when it has enslaved one, and keeps you going on and on without progressing a bit.