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CHAPTER V

AT RED CHIMNEYS

When Patty entered the dining-room, she found the rest already at breakfast.

"'Scuse me for being late," she said, as she took her place, "but I was up late last night."

She smiled gaily at Philip, whose somewhat frowning face relaxed into an answering smile.

"Never mind that, Patty," said Mona, "listen to what we're planning.

Philip thinks it would be a good idea to buy Red Chimneys for the Kiddies' Home, and we're going to motor over to Spring Beach today to look at it."

"Fine! but why go to look at it? We all know exactly what it looks like–"

"Yes, Patty," said Philip, "but there are several matters to see about. I know the house, generally speaking, but I want to look it over with the idea of a Home in mind. Count up the rooms, get measurements and so forth, to present in my report to the Board of Managers."

"All right, I'd like to go. I think it would be fun. Lunch at the hotel, I suppose."

"Yes, or take something with us and picnic at the house."

"Oh, that's lots nicer, don't you think so, Elise?"

"Well, you see, Patty, it doesn't matter to me which you do, as I'm not going. I'm sorry, but I've some engagements today that I must keep, so, if you don't mind, I'm going to ask to be left at home."

"All right, then it's up to us. What say, Mona? Picnic sandwiches?"

"Yes, and some Thermos stuff,—soup and chocolate. That will give us more time to look over the house. There are some things I want to see about, if it's to leave my possession forever."

"Why don't you keep it, Mona? Why wouldn't you and Roger like it for a summer home?"

"We talked it over, and I'm rather tired of the place. And Roger prefers going to different places each year. Father told me I could have the house, and do what I liked with it, sell it or keep it. But if they want it for this Home arrangement, I think I'll be rather glad to let it go."

The quartet started off in high spirits at the prospect of a jolly day. The big limousine was most comfortable and well equipped. An ample luncheon was stowed away in hampers, and a skilful and careful chauffeur drove them at a speedy gait. It was a glorious, clear, cold, sunshiny day, and the open windows gave them plenty of fresh air.

Patty, enveloped in furs, nestled in one corner of the wide back seat, and Mona was in the other. The two men faced them. Not a word had passed between Patty and Philip about the night before, and Patty wondered if he intended to let the matter go by without further reference.

"You see it's this way," Philip began, addressing Patty; "I haven't really had an opportunity of telling you about it yet. We don't want to do anything much in the matter of the Home before Spring. But as Mona's house is in the market, and as it seems like an ideal place to have for the children, I thought we'd better look into it, and, if advisable, buy it and then wait a few months before doing anything further."

"I think so, too, Phil," Patty agreed. "I counted up the rooms and it will easily accommodate twenty or twenty-five kiddies, and that's as many as we can take care of, isn't it?"

"I think so; for the present, anyway. And you know, Patty, all you have to do is to approve or disapprove of the purchase, and what you say, goes."

"What an important personage you are, Patty," said Roger. "Your lightest word is law."

"It won't be a light word," and Patty looked serious. "I shall consider the matter carefully, and with all the wisdom and forethought I can find in my brain. This matter was left to me as a trust, and I'm not taking it lightly, I can tell you. This purchase of a house is a permanent move, not a trifling, temporary question. And unless the place is the very right place,—righter than any other place,—why, we don't want it, that's all."

"Bravo, Patty!" and Philip looked at her, admiringly. "You've got a lot of good sense and judgment under that fur headpiece of yours."

"Fur headpiece!" cried Patty; "my new chinchilla toque! This is my dearest possession, if you please."

"It looks dear," observed Roger. "I believe that chinchilla animal is quite expensive."

"It is indeed," declared Mona, "my travelling suit is trimmed with it."

"Travelling suit?" asked Patty, innocently, "are you going away?"

"She says so," Roger answered for her. "She says she's going to–"

"Hush!" cried Mona, "isn't that just like a man! Why, you mustn't tell where you're going on your wedding trip! It isn't done."

"No, of course not," chimed in Patty; "but, all the same, after you reach Palm Beach, let us know, won't you?"

"I will," declared Roger, "but, do you know, it seems as if the time would never come!"

"Nice boy," said Mona, approvingly; "doesn't he make pretty speeches, Patty?"

"Lovely. You'll have a beautiful time on your trip. I 'most wish I was going with you?"

"Come on, Patty," said Philip, "let's make it a double affair. How about it?"

"No, thank you. I haven't any suit trimmed with chinchilla."

"You've a whole chinchilla coat on now," said Mona. "You could wear that."

"What! get married in old clothes! No-sir-ee! The best part of a wedding is the trousseau. That's the only thing that would ever persuade me to take the fatal step."

"It is fun," agreed Mona. "Oh, Patty, my green velvet came home yesterday! It's simply wonderful! The tunic, you know–"

"Help! help!" cried Roger. "You girls have got us penned in here where we can't get away, but if you're going to talk about bias ruffling and side gores, I shall jump out the window! I warn you."

"You can't stop 'em, old man," said Van Reypen, gravely, "they've got to go through with that green velvet, now they've begun on it. Proceed, Mona. The tunic was trimmed with peplum, wasn't it? and the bodice was cut en train——"

"You don't deserve to know," Mona told him, "and as for Roger, he'll see enough of that green velvet, poor man! It's so beautiful, I expect to wear it on every possible occasion."

"All right, dear," said Roger, rolling his eyes in mock devotion.

"Whatever you say, goes, my queen, my—y que—ee—n!"

"Even if I wear a rig like Alla Blaney wore last night?" asked Mona, laughing.

"Well, I must draw the line somewhere, and I should say that was the very place! If you elect to appear in a scarecrow costume of that type, I shall send you back to your father."

"No danger," and Mona shook her head. "Why do people want to make themselves such frights?"

"Their dress interprets their souls," said Van Reypen, sarcastically, "and their souls are frights."

"Nothing of the sort, Phil," flared out Patty; "I'd like you to remember those people are my friends."

"Well, my dear, if you choose to have friends with souls like frights, it is, of course, your privilege; but you must allow me to express my opinion of them."

"And so you may,—but not to me."

"Very well; consider I was talking to Mona,—which I really was."

"Then continue to talk to her, for I don't want to talk to you."

"All right, pretty Patty,—pretty little sunny-faced Patty,—all right."

Philip's voice was teasing and his smile was irritating, and Patty was angry at him anyway, yet she couldn't help laughing at his speech, for she looked as cross as a thunder cloud, and she knew it. That is, as near to the crossness of a thunder cloud as Patty Fairfield could manage. Her cheeks were reddened by the cold wind and her blue eyes always looked bluer in a frosty atmosphere. And now, as an uncontrollable smile parted her scarlet lips, and her white teeth gleamed, and her dimples came into view, Patty justified Philip's term of "pretty Patty," but she quickly concealed her smile by sinking her chin deep into the great fur collar of her coat.

"Wasn't it a crazy party?" Mona went on, not realising she was on a dangerous subject. "They all took themselves so seriously."

"Why shouldn't they?" said Patty, coming up out of her fur cave; "it might be better if we all took ourselves more seriously,—such a lot of triflers and sillyheads as we are!"

"And such a lot of piffle-peddlers and hard-boiled eggs as they are!" said Philip, fairly snorting in disgust.

"Oh, very well!" and Patty sank again into the chinchilla cavern.

Roger touched Mona's foot with his own, and gave her an urgent, significant glance, as he said, with a determination to change the subject, "We'll just about get to Red Chimneys in time for luncheon. Shall we have our picnic before we explore the house? I'm as hungry as three bears and a hunter."

"So'm I," agreed Van Reypen, taking the cue. "What's in the hampers?

Unless something pretty substantial, I vote we go to a hotel to feast."

"No," said Mona, "that wouldn't be half as much fun. It's the picnicking that's so jolly. If you agree, Patty," she added, for if Patty had any intention of sulking, there would be little fun in a picnic.

But Patty Fairfield was no spoilsport. She was annoyed at Philip, but that was no reason for her to make the others uncomfortable, and she responded gaily, "Oh, yes, the picnic is lots more fun. But will the house be warm enough?"

"Yes," Mona answered, "we telephoned down last night for Mr. Bates, the caretaker, to make some fires, and we can pile logs in the big hall fireplace till we roast alive. We can have the feast in the hall, if the dining-room is chilly."

But they found the whole house fairly warm and distinctly cheery and homey-looking. Bates had aired and dusted it, and had built fires and altogether the beautiful rooms looked so attractive, that Mona declared she was half inclined not to give it up, after all.

"We could rent it some years, Roger," she said, "and live in it some years, if we wanted to."

"Just as you say, Mona," he replied; "it's your house. Wait until spring to decide, if you prefer."

"All right," said Van Reypen, "but I fear we must decide on the house we buy before that. For we want to get the place we're to have in order as soon as Spring pokes her nose in."

"We'll have luncheon first," Mona decided, "and then discuss the matter."

The men opened the hampers, and the girls set the table in the great hall, near the roaring wood fire that filled the enormous fireplace. Salads and sandwiches, carefully packed, were in faultless condition, and the numerous Thermos bottles held hot soup, coffee, and chocolate. A small freezer of ice cream appeared from somewhere, and a box of confectionery contented the girls while the men smoked after the repast.

"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?"

"Soul lore–"

"Patty! Don't you ever use the word soul in the silly way they do! You have a soul, of course,—an immortal soul. But they don't mean that. By soul, they mean a puffball of hifalutin ideas, of nonsense about the occult and psychic, and all that balderdash. Oh, Patty, my little girl, don't let those idiot people carry away your common sense and your plain everyday sanity! Don't, I beg of you!"

"Look here, Phil," and Patty stared at him, thoughtfully; "I'm to give you an answer to a certain question in about a fortnight, I believe."

"You are, my Blessed Darling! To be exact, on the fifteenth of December, this present month, you are to admit,—blushingly, if you like, but unequivocally,—that I'm the one man in the world for you."

"Don't be too sure. Do you suppose I can love a man who differs so in opinion on this matter of—of psychology–"

"Yes, you blessed goose! You sure can! For, you see, this poppycock,—I beg your pardon,—this poppychology is but a flash in the pan, a rift in the lute, a fly in the ointment. Ahem, I'm getting poetical now! Well, in a short space of period, you will have forgotten all this rubbish,—er,—soul-rubbish, you know,—and you'll be thinking only of how glad you are that you love me and I love you,—just as Mona and Roger are, in these blissful days before their marriage. Oh, Patty, you are going to marry me, aren't you, dear? I can't stand it, if you say no."

Patty looked at him, and a troubled expression filled her blue eyes.

"I don't know, Philip. Honestly, I don't know. But it seems to me if I am going to love you such a lot two weeks from now, I ought to care more than I do now."

"Oh, that's all right, darling. It'll come all at once. Why, some day, you'll suddenly discover you love me with every bit and corner of your dear little blessed heart, and you'll wonder that you only just realised it."

"I don't know, Philip. I hope it will be like that—but I don't know."

"Don't worry about it, dear, it will be all right," and Van Reypen smiled into the anxious eyes upraised to his.

CHAPTER VI

A SOCIETY CIRCUS

"Of course I could do it," Patty agreed, "and I will, if you say so, Elise. I don't care a lot about it, but if everybody is going in for the game, I am, too."

"Yes, do, Patty; it's just in your line, and you can do it a whole lot better than that girl did last year,—you know whom I mean, Ethel."

"Yes, Ray Rose–"

"Ray Rose," said Patty, "what a pretty name!"

"Pretty girl, too," said Ethel Merritt, who was calling at Pine Laurel. "Also, she isn't going to like it any too well to have Miss Fairfield take her part."

"Oh, is it her part?" asked Patty; "then I won't take it."

"Yes, you will. It's all right. Nobody wants her and everybody wants you."

The subject under discussion was a "Society Circus" to be performed by the young people of Lakewood, and of great interest to all concerned.

It was a few days after the Spring Beach trip. Mona had gone back home and Philip also, and Roger was in New York. Elise was greatly enthusiastic over the circus plan, and was managing committees, and arranging details in her usual capable fashion. The affair was a charity benefit under the auspices of a philanthropic society that gave some such entertainment every winter. Patty, always ready for any gaiety, was preparing to take part, though the scheme was a new one to her. She had never been in a society circus, and wanted the matter thoroughly explained.

"It isn't much to explain, Miss Fairfield," Ethel said; "you see, everybody is an animal or a clown or a bareback rider, or something that belongs to a circus. Bob Riggs is ringmaster, and they all obey him. He's awfully funny, and whatever he has to do with, is sure to be a success."

"Tell me more about my part," said Patty; "how do I dress?"

"Well, you see, you're Mlle. Hooperino, and you do fancy dancing and jump through paper hoops–"

"What! Oh, I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can; Bob will show you how. Why, anybody who dances as you do, can do anything of that sort. And your costume is anything you like, in the way of tulle skirts, lots of 'em, and a satin bodice, laced up, you know, and a dinky little cap, and,—oh, anything you think fetching and attractive."

"It sounds fun," Patty agreed, "but what about Miss Rose? I don't want to disappoint her; will she feel annoyed?"

"She sure will! But never mind that. As soon as Bob saw you dance the other night, he said you were the one for the part. You must do it."

"And Ray Rose hasn't been asked this year," put in Elise. "She can't resent your taking what she never had."

"She will, though," declared Ethel. "She looks upon that part as hers, and she won't like Miss Fairfield's having it one bit. But that doesn't matter. What Bob says, goes; and that's all there is about that!"

They talked over the costumes and dances until every question was settled, and Ethel went away with Patty's promise to do what was requested of her.

"But I don't like it," Patty demurred, "on account of that Rose girl.

What is she like, Elise?"

"Oh, she's the jolliest thing in the world. She won't get mad at you,—she isn't that sort. But I know what she will do. She'll try to 'get even,' you know,—do something to pay you out for stealing her glory."

"What'll she do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some practical joke, like as not. She's a sort of kid, although she's nineteen years old."

"All right, if she's that sort, I'm not afraid of her. I thought she was haughty and sarcastic."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. She's full of mischief and awfully good-natured. But she'll resent Bob's putting you in her place. Don't think of it, Patty. It's all a trifle. She'll have some other part, just as good."

"Very well, I'll turn me thinks toward me frock. What say to pale blue tulle, with silver lace by way of trimmin's?"

"Fine! And after you get yours all planned will you help me with mine?"

"Will I! I live but for that! You, my Elise, must wear corn colour, or, say, maize colour, and poppies."

"Yes, now that you speak of it, that's just what I want. Shall us ask Philip down, Patty?"

"No; I'd like to have one time of my life without his revered presence."

"Look here, Patty, between you and me and the circus, aren't you expecting to be the eventual Mrs. Philip?"

"Oh, Elise, don't bother me about such far-away eventualities."

"All right, I won't, 'cause I know all about that. You're trying him out, and if he passes his exams, you're going to say yes, pretty soon, now."

"Good gracious! I believe my loving friends know more about my affairs than I do myself!"

"If we didn't we wouldn't know much! You are the most wabbly-hearted person I ever knew! Say, Pats, what did you do to big Bill Farnsworth to send him flying off out West again?"

"I?" and Patty opened her blue eyes wide at Elise.

"Yes, you, you saucer-eyed doll! One day, he was shining brightly all over the place, and the next, he was like a thunder cloud, and departed straightway for the wild and woolly."

"Oh, well, Elise, I can't feel sure that it's precisely your affair; but, as you show a polite interest, I don't mind telling you that we quarrelled."

"About Philip Van Reypen."

"Clairvoyant! Well, if you will have it so,—yes."

"Oh, Patty, then you do like Phil better than Mr. Farnsworth!"

"Do I?"

"You must! or you never would have sent one away because of the other. And, Patty, you did just right. Phil Van Reypen is worth a dozen of that Western giant. He's nice, Mr. Farnsworth is, but Philip is so much more—oh,—aristocratic and—and smart-looking, you know."

"Bill is smart enough," said Patty, thoughtfully.

"I don't mean smart in the sense of clever, but–"

"I know; you mean well-dressed and fashionable."

"Yes, and correct-mannered, and generally all round a gentleman."

"Bill Farnsworth is a gentleman."

"Of course. But not the polished type Philip is. He's an aristocrat."

"Oh, fiddlestrings. I'm sick and tired of hearing that Phil Van Reypen is an aristocrat! If I were an aristocrat, I'd try to hide it! Anyway, I wouldn't advertise it all the time!"

"Patty! you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Phil doesn't advertise it!"

"Well, he doesn't employ you to do it for him, either, so you may as well stop it. I know all about Phil's aristocracy. And it's all right. I never said it wasn't. But a man has got to be something more than an aristocrat before I can fall desperately in love with him. And I must be desperately in love with the man I promise to marry."

Patty spoke seriously, and her blue eyes took on a violet light as she looked out of the window and far away to the sky beyond the pine trees.

"Of course, you must, Patty. Every girl feels that way. But when Phil adores you so, how can you resist him?"

"Now, now, Elise, don't ask leading questions. And, also, let's turn the tables. When a certain nice young man that I wot of, so adores you, how can you resist him?"

"I don't know that I shall," replied Elise, blushing.

"Oho! Bad as that, eh? Now I see why you're so interested in my affairs of the heart. Misery loves company."

"But I'm not miserable."

"No, of course not. Howsumever, if you insist on asking Philip Van down to the circus, I shall advise asking one Mr. Kit Cameron."

"You're a day behind the fair! I've asked him and he can't come."

"Too bad. But, just for that, I won't have Phil, either. Then we can both be heart-whole and fancy free."

"All right. Bob Riggs has taken a large and elegant notion to you, and I am engaged in the pleasant pastime of subjugating Hal Merritt, so we shan't want for rustic swains."

"As if we ever had! But as for me, this circus business seems a piece of work, and I must apply myself to it, or rejoice in a failure at the eventful moment."

"You're right. Let's go over to Mme. Beauvais' and see about her making our costumes."

"Come on, we'll go now."

The next few days the girls devoted all their time to their costumes and to rehearsals for the circus. It was a more elaborate affair than Patty had anticipated, and the men who were to represent animals had marvellous suits of fur that closely imitated the real thing in wild beasts.

A bear, who was ordinarily Jack Fenn, captivated Patty from the first, and when she proposed to dance with him, Bob Riggs caught at the idea.

"Capital!" he cried, "just the thing, Miss Fairfield. Hit of the evening, I assure you. Come, begin your rehearsal at once."

It was not easy, for the bear costume made its wearer clumsy and he awkwardly tripped and nearly upset Patty. But she good-naturedly tried the steps over and over until they began to do better.

"It'll right itself after a few more rehearsals," she said, encouragingly. "Come over to the Farringtons' mornings, and we'll get a little extra practice."

Fenn did so, and, as they perfected the dance, all who saw it prophesied it would be the hit of the whole affair.

And everybody was pleased save and except Ray Rose. She had taken quietly enough the substitution of Patty for herself as première danseuse, and had even said she preferred the part that had been assigned her. But when the Bear dance began to be talked about with such enthusiasm, she commenced to find fault.

"How did you happen to worm yourself into my place, Miss Fairfield?" she said at a rehearsal. "Did you make up this Bear foolery?"

"I'm afraid I did, Miss Rose," returned Patty, smiling. "You've no criticism to make, have you?"

"None, except that I wanted that part that Mr. Riggs saw fit to give you, and I'm madder'n hops 'cause I haven't got it."

"Why, I'll give it to you," and Patty smiled at the pouting girl.

"Oh, you can't do that now, it's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner that you wanted it?"

"Never s'posed you'd give it up, or I would have. But I'll get even with you!"

"Now, don't talk like that, for it wasn't my fault that Mr. Riggs selected me for the part."

"Well, it was your fault that you took it, and it will be my fault if I don't make you pay for it!"

"Is this a threat?"

"It most certainly is. What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing at all,—unless it is carried out. Then I shall defend myself to the best of my ability. I'm good-natured,—and I am told you are,—but I've no intention of being annoyed unjustly, and you'll find that out, Miss Ray Rose! By the way, what a pretty name you have."

"Do you like it? It's really Ramona, but I've always been called Ray. I like you a lot, Miss Fairfield, and I'd be sorry to annoy you, but,—well, perhaps because I do like you so much,—I warn you, I'm going to get ahead of you on this circus program, if I can."

"You're a little goose," said Patty, laughing outright at the determined face and snapping black eyes of Ray Rose. "I do believe you want to cut up some trick on me, because I stole your part, or it seems to you I did, and yet, you rather like me, and hate to do it, after all."

"How did you know?" cried Ray Rose, astonished. "That's exactly what was in my mind! Well, honest, if I can conquer my desire to get even with you, I'll let you alone. But I feel pretty sure I shall do your act myself."

"You are the queerest girl I ever saw!" and Patty looked her astonishment. "Your frankness and your slyness together are the funniest combination! Just for your queer cleverness, I give you permission to get my place from me if you can! But don't forget I offered it to you."

"That's nothing. Bob Riggs wouldn't let me take it. But if I get it in some way that he can't help himself, remember that you told me I might."

Patty was greatly amused at this conversation, but as other and more important matters quickly demanded her attention, she promptly forgot the whole matter.

The circus proper was to be an evening entertainment, but in the afternoon of the same day, the entire cast of characters marched up and down the streets as an advertisement, hoping to attract attention and rouse curiosity to such an extent that the attendance at the evening performance would be large.

The animals presented a fearsome sight. Lions, bears, tigers, monkeys, a giraffe and a donkey, were followed by clowns, acrobats, trapeze performers, and jugglers.

Patty, as première danseuse, rode in a gilded chariot drawn by four gaily caparisoned white horses. She sat enthroned on a high seat, and waved smiling greetings as she passed.

Ray Rose, in Pierrette costume, was gay and good-natured, and chummed up with Patty, in evident forgetfulness of any ill-feeling.

"She's all right," Patty said to Elise, as they went home after the parade, and prepared to rest up a little before the evening performance.

Patty had no sooner reached her room than she was called to the telephone. The speaker was Ray Rose.

"Excuse me, Miss Fairfield, but I do want to speak to you a minute. I think my Pierrette act would be a whole lot prettier, if I had a few Highland Fling steps in it, don't you?"

"I do," Patty replied, after a moment's consideration. "Put them in after the one-step movement."

"Yes, that's what I meant. May I run over to your house a minute, and will you show me about the Fling? It won't take a jiffy."

"Yes, of course. Will you come right away?"

"I will. But, oh, pshaw,—I'm all dressed in my Pierrette rig; wouldn't you,—couldn't you come here instead? I'll send the car, it won't take any time at all."

"Why, yes, I can come over, and I will, if you want me to so much." Patty ran to tell Elise she was going, but Elise was not in her room, so Patty went downstairs to look for her. Before she saw Elise, or indeed any one else, the Rose car came, a little runabout, with only the chauffeur.

Flinging a motor coat from the hall-rack around her, Patty ran out the door and jumped into the car.

In a moment she was at Ray Rose's house, and the girl herself stood smiling in the doorway.

"Good for you!" she cried, "you're a duck! Come right up to my room."

Patty followed Ray, who ran lightly up stairs, and threw open the door of her bedroom.

"What a lovely room!" Patty exclaimed, as she entered a dainty nest all pink and white.

"Yes, isn't it?" agreed Ray, and they stepped inside. "Sit down a minute," she went on, "I want to get another scarf. I'll be right back."

Patty threw herself into a low wicker chair, and, gently closing the door behind her, Ray disappeared.