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Celeste Arleson enjoyed the ride, but she was not so openly enthusiastic as Mrs. Greene.

“My!” exclaimed that worthy, as she bobbed up and down on the springy cushions; “to think it’s come at last! Why, I never expected to ride in one of these. I saved up once for a taxicab ride, but I had to use my savings for a case of grippe, so I never felt to try it again.”

“Did you have grippe?” said Patty, sympathetically; “that was too bad.”

“Well, no; it wasn’t my grippe. Leastways, I didn’t have it. It was a lady that lived in the same boardin’ house, along with me. But she’d had misfortune, and lost her money, so I couldn’t do no less than to help her. Poor thing! she was crossed in love and it made her queer. But that Rosy,—you know, that redhead boy, Miss Fairfield?”

“Yes, I do,” returned Patty, smiling.

“Well, he says she was queered in love, and it made her cross! She works in our place, you know. Well, cross she is; and, my land! if she wasn’t cross when she had the grippe! You know, it ain’t soothin’ on folks’ nerves.”

“No,” said Patty; “so I’ve understood. Well, Mrs. Greene, now you can see plenty of fashionable costumes. Do you enjoy it?”

“My! I’m just drinkin’ ’em in! Furs is worn a lot this year, ain’t they? Well, I don’t wonder. Why, I feel real regal in this fur of yours, Miss Galbraith. I don’t know when I’ve had such a pleasure as the wearin’ of this fur.”

“Now, we’ll go through the park and up Riverside Drive,” said Mona, as they neared Eighty-sixth Street. It was pleasant in the Park, and the fine motors, with their smartly-apparelled occupants, delighted Mrs. Greene’s very soul.

“Where would you like to go, Celeste?” asked Mona; “or do you like the Park and the River drive?”

“If I might, Miss Galbraith, I’d like to go to Grant’s Tomb. I’ve always wanted to go there, but I never can get a spare hour,—or if I do, I’m too tired for the trip.”

“Certainly, you shall. Would you like that, Mrs. Greene?”

“Oh, land, yes! I’ve never been there, either. Quite some few times I’ve thought to go, but something always interferes.”

So to Grant’s Tomb they went. The other car followed, and all went in to look at the impressive mausoleum.

“Makes you feel kind o’ solemn,” said Mrs. Greene, as they came out. “Think of lyin’ there in that eternal rock, as you might say, and the whole nation comin’ to weep over your bier.”

“They don’t all weep,” observed Celeste.

“Well, in a manner o’ speakin’, they do,” said Mrs. Greene, gently. “Not real tears, maybe; but, you know, to weep over a bier, is a figger of speech; and so far as its meanin’ goes, Grant’s got it. And, after all, it’s the meanin’ that counts.”

It was nearing sundown as they started down the Drive, and Mona proposed that they go to a tea room, and then take their guests to their several homes.

“Oh, how pretty!” said Mrs. Greene, as they all went into the Marie Jeannette Tea Room.

The younger girls chose chocolate, but Mrs. Greene said, “Give me a cup of tea. There’s nothing like it, to my mind. And to think of having tea in this beautiful place, all decked with posies. I’ll just throw this fur a little open, but keep it over my shoulders. It looks so luxuriant that way.”

Mona ordered dainty sandwiches and little fancy cakes—and after a pleasant half-hour they started homeward. They left Celeste at her home first, and then took Mrs. Greene to hers.

“I live way down on East Eleventh Street,” she said, apologetically; “and I oughtn’t to let you go clear down there with me. But,—oh, well, I might as well own up,—I’d just love to roll up to our door in this car!”

“And so you shall,” said Mona, appreciating this bit of feminine vanity. “And, Mrs. Greene, if you’ll accept them, I’d like to make you a present of those furs. I don’t need them, for I have several other sets, and you’re very welcome to them.”

“My land!” said Mrs. Greene, and then could say no more, for her voice choked, and two tears rolled down her cheeks.

“And to think I thought you ladies were stuck up!” she said, in a voice of contrition. “Why, two angels straight from Heaven couldn’t be more kind or whole-soulder than you two are. But, Miss Galbraith, I can’t accept such a gift,—I—I ought not to.”

Mrs. Greene was caressing the fur as she spoke, and Mona patted her hand, saying laughingly:

“I couldn’t take it away from anybody who loves it as you do. Please keep it. I’m more glad to give it to you than you can possibly be to have it.”

So Mrs. Greene kept the furs,—and her beaming face proved the depth of thankfulness which she tried, all inadequately, to express.

CHAPTER VI
CONFIDENCES

Mona went home with Patty to dinner, as she often did when the girls had been together during the afternoon.

At the dinner table the elder Fairfields were greatly entertained by the account of the first Happy Saturday Afternoon.

“But aren’t you afraid,” Mr. Fairfield asked, “that such unaccustomed luxuries will make those people discontented with their own conditions?”

“Now, father Fairfield,” exclaimed Patty, “you ought to know better than that! you might as well say that a man in a prison ought never to see a ray of sunlight, because it would make him more discontented with his dark jail.”

“That’s true,” agreed Nan; “I think it’s lovely to give these people such a pleasure, and if I can help in any way, Patty, I’ll be glad to.”

“And then it’s the memory of it,” said Mona.

“You know yourself how pleasant it is to look back and remember any pleasure you may have had; and when it’s only one, and such a big one, the pleasure of remembrance is even greater.”

“That’s good philosophy, Mona,” said Mr. Fairfield, approvingly, “and I take back what I said. I think the plans you girls have made are excellent; and I, too, will be glad to help if I can.”

“Other people have offered to help us,” began Mona, but Patty interrupted her, saying: “We don’t want any help from people individually. I mean, father, if you will lend us the car, and things like that, we’ll be glad, of course. But we don’t want any personal assistance in our plans.”

“All right, chickadee; far be it from me to intrude. But I thought perhaps if you wanted to make a little excursion, say, to see the Statue of Liberty, or even to go to the circus, you might like a man along with you as a Courier General.”

“That’s just what Mr. Lansing said!” exclaimed Mona, which was the very remark Patty had been fearing.

“That’s just what we’re not going to do!” she declared. “We’re only going to places where we can go by ourselves, or if we need a chaperon, we’ll take Nan. But we don’t want any men in on this deal.”

“I don’t see why,” began Mona, but Patty promptly silenced her by saying, “You do see why. Now, Mona, don’t say anything more about it. There isn’t any circus now, and it’s time enough when it comes, to decide about going to it; and I don’t want to go, anyway. There are lots of things nicer than a circus.”

“Mr. Lansing said he’d send us a box for the Hippodrome, some Saturday afternoon,” said Mona, a little diffidently.

“That’s awfully kind of him,” said Nan. “I should think you girls would be delighted with that.”

“A box,” and Patty looked scornful. “Why, a box only holds six, so with us four, we could only invite two guests. I don’t think much of that scheme!”

“I’ll donate a box also,” said Mr. Fairfield. “You can get them adjoining, and with two of you girls in one and two in the other, you can invite eight guests.”

Patty hesitated. The plan sounded attractive, and she quickly thought that she could invite Rosy for one of the guests and give the boy a Happy Saturday Afternoon. But she didn’t want to accept anything from Mr. Lansing, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to say so, frankly.

“What’s the matter, Patty?” asked Nan. “You don’t like the idea of the Hippodrome, though I don’t see why.”

“I do like it,” said Patty, “but we can’t decide these things in a minute. We ought to have a meeting of the club and talk it over.”

“Nonsense,” said Mona. “You know very well, Patty, it isn’t a formal club. I’m going to accept these two Hippodrome boxes, and tell the girls that we can each invite two guests. The Hippodrome show is lovely this year, and anybody would like it, whether children or grown-ups. And we’re much obliged to you, Mr. Fairfield.”

“You’re taking a great deal upon yourself, Mona,” said Patty. “You’re not president of the club.”

“Neither are you.”

“Well, I’m not dictating how things shall be run.”

“Well, I am! So all you’ll have to do, is to run along with me.”

Mona was so laughingly good-natured that Patty’s serious face broke into a smile, too. She was annoyed at the idea of being under obligation to Mr. Lansing, but, after all, it was hardly fair to stand in the way of eight people’s pleasure. So she surrendered gracefully.

“All right, Mona,” she said; “we’ll have the Hippodrome party. I know one guest I shall invite, who’s sure to enjoy it. He’s a boy about fourteen, and the funniest thing you ever saw.”

“I’d like to take children, too,” said Mona; “but I don’t know many. I think I’ll ask Celeste’s two little sisters.”

It was characteristic of Patty not to dwell on anything unpleasant, so having made up her mind to accept Mr. Lansing’s favour, she entered heartily into the plan for the next party.

But after dinner, when the girls were alone in Patty’s boudoir, she said to Mona, seriously, “You know I didn’t want to take that box from Mr. Lansing.”

“Of course I know it, Patty,” and Mona smiled, complacently. “But I made you do it, didn’t I? I knew I should in the end, but your father helped me unexpectedly, by offering a second box. Now, Pattikins, you may as well stop disliking Mr. Lansing. He’s my friend, and he’s going to stay my friend. He may have some faults, but everybody has.”

“But, Mona, he isn’t our sort at all. I don’t see why you like him.”

“He mayn’t be your sort, but he’s mine; and I like him because I like him! That’s the only reason that anybody likes anybody. You think nobody’s any good unless they have all sorts of aristocratic ancestry! Like that Van Reypen man who’s always dangling after you.”

“He isn’t dangling now,” said Patty. “I haven’t seen him since my party.”

“You haven’t! Is he mad at you?”

“Yes; he and Roger are both mad at me; and all on account of your old Mr. Lansing!”

“Yes, Roger’s mad at me, too, on account of that same poor, misunderstood young gentleman. But they’ll get over it. Don’t worry, Patty.”

“Mona, I’d like to shake you! I might just as well reason with the Rock of Gibraltar as to try to influence you. Don’t you know that your father asked me to try to persuade you to drop that Lansing man?”

Patty had not intended to divulge this confidence of Mr. Galbraith, but she was at her wit’s end to find some argument that would carry any weight with her headstrong friend.

“Oh, daddy!” said Mona, carelessly. “He talks to me by the hour, and I just laugh at him and drum tunes on his dear old bald head. He hasn’t anything, really, against Mr. Lansing, you know; it’s nothing but prejudice.”

“A very well-founded prejudice, then! Why, Mona, that man isn’t fit to—to–”

“To worship the ground I walk on,” suggested Mona, calmly. “Well, he does, Patty, so you may as well stop interfering.”

“Oh, if you look upon it as interfering!”

“Well, I don’t know what you call it, if not that. But I don’t mind. Go ahead, if it amuses you. But I’m sorry if my affairs make trouble between you and your friends. However, I don’t believe Mr. Van Reypen will stay angry at you very long. And as for Roger,—well, I wouldn’t worry about him. Of course, you’re going to Elise’s dance on Tuesday night?”

“Yes, of course. And I’ve no doubt I’ll make up with Roger, then; but I don’t know about Philip. I doubt if he’ll be there.”

“I haven’t the least doubt. Where you are, there will Mr. Van Reypen be, also,—if he can possibly get an invitation.”

Mona was right in her opinion. At Elise’s dance on Tuesday night, almost the first man Patty saw, as she entered the drawing-room, was Philip Van Reypen. He greeted her pleasantly, but with a certain reserve quite different from his usual eager cordiality.

“May I have a dance, Miss Fairfield?” he said, holding out his hand for her card.

Quick-witted Patty chose just the tone that she knew would irritate him. “Certainly, Mr. Van Reypen,” she said, carelessly, and as she handed him her card, she turned to smile at another man who was just coming to speak to her. When Philip handed back her card, she took it without looking at it, or at him, and handed it to Mr. Drayton, seemingly greatly interested in what dances he might select.

Van Reypen looked at her a moment in amazement. He had intended to be cool toward her, but the tables were turned, and she was decidedly cool toward him.

However, his look of surprise was not lost upon Miss Patricia Fairfield, who saw him out of the corner of her eye, even though she was apparently engrossed with Mr. Drayton.

And then, as usual, Patty was besieged by several men at once, all begging for dances, and her card was quickly filled.

“What can I do with so many suitors?” she cried, raising her hands in pretty bewilderment, as her card was passed from one to another. “Don’t take all the dances, please; I want to save some for my special favourites.”

“Meaning me?” said Kenneth Harper, who had just joined the group in time to hear Patty’s remark.

“You, for one,” said Patty, smiling on him, “but there are seventeen others.”

“I’m two or three of the seventeen,” said Roger, gaining possession of the card. “May I have three, Patty?”

One look flashed from Roger’s dark eyes to Patty’s blue ones, and in that glance their foolish little quarrel was forgiven and forgotten.

Roger had a big, generous nature, and so had Patty, and with a smile they were good friends again.

Patty’s mind worked quickly. She had no intention of giving Roger three dances, but she saw that he and Mona were not yet on speaking terms. So she nodded assent, as he scribbled his initials in three places, thinking to herself that before the evening was over, two of them should be transferred to Mona’s card.

Patty was looking lovely in pale blue chiffon with tiny French rosebuds of pink satin adorning it here and there. Her golden hair was clustered in becoming puffs and curls, tucked into a little net of gold mesh, with coquettish bunches of rosebuds above each ear.

But, though Patty was pretty and wore lovely clothes, her chief charm was her happy, smiling face and her gay, good-natured friendliness. She smiled on everybody, not with a set smile of society, but in a frank, happy enjoyment of the good time she was having, and appreciation of the good time that everybody else helped her to have.

“You are all so kind to me,” she was saying to Robert Kenton, who had just come in; “and I want to thank you, Mr. Kenton, for the beautiful flowers you sent. I do love valley lilies, they’re so—so–”

“They’re so sentimental,” suggested Rob Kenton, smiling.

“Well, yes,—if you mean them to be,” said Patty, dimpling at him. “Any flower is sentimental, if the sender means it so.”

“Or if the receiver wants it to be. Did you?” and Kenton smiled back at her.

“Oh, yes, of course I do!” And Patty put on an exaggeratedly soulful look. “I’m that sentimental you wouldn’t believe! But I forget the language of flowers. What do lilies of the valley mean,—especially with orchids in the middle of the bunch?”

“Undying affection,” responded Kenton, promptly. “Do you accept it?”

“I’d be glad to, but I suppose that means it lasts for ever and ever,—so you needn’t ever send me any more flowers!”

“Oh, it isn’t as undying as all that! It needs to be revived sometimes with fresh flowers.”

“It’s a little too complicated for me to think it out now,” and Patty smiled at him, roguishly. “Besides, here are more suitors approaching; so if you’ll please give me back my card, Mr. Kenton,—though I don’t believe there’s room for another one.”

“Not one?” said the man who took it, disappointedly; for sure enough, every space was filled. “But there’ll be an extra or two. May I have one of those?”

“Oh, I never arrange those in advance,” said Patty. “My partners take their chances on those. But I’ll give you half of this dance,” and she calmly cut in two the one dance against which Philip Van Reypen had set his aristocratic initials.

Then the dancing began, and what with the fine music, the perfect floor, and usually good partners, Patty enjoyed herself thoroughly. She loved dancing, and being accomplished in all sorts of fancy dances, could learn any new or intricate steps in a moment.

After a few dances she found herself whirling about the room with Roger, and she determined to carry out her plan of reconciling him and Mona. Mr. Lansing was not at the dance, for Elise had positively declined to invite him; and so, though Mona was there, she was rather cool to Elise, and favoured Roger only with a distant bow as a greeting.

“You and Mona are acting like two silly idiots,” was Patty’s somewhat definite manner of beginning her conversation.

“You think so?” said Roger, as he guided her skilfully round another couple who were madly dashing toward them.

“Yes, I do. And, Roger, I want you to take my advice and make up with her.”

“I’ve nothing to make up.”

“Yes, you have, too. You and Mona are good friends, or have been, and there’s no reason why you should act as you do.”

“There’s a very good reason; and he has most objectionable manners,” declared Roger, looking sulky.

“I don’t like his manners, either; but I tell you honestly, Roger, you’re going about it the wrong way. I know Mona awfully well,—better than you do. And she’s proud-spirited, and even a little contrary, and if you act as you do toward her, you simply throw her into the arms of that objectionable-mannered man!”

“Good Heavens, Patty, what a speech!”

“Well, of course, I don’t mean literally, but if you won’t speak to her at all, on account of Mr. Lansing, why of course she’s going to feel just piqued enough to smile on him all the more. Can’t you understand that?”

“Let her!” growled Roger.

“No, we won’t let her,—any such thing! I don’t like that man a bit better than you do, but do you suppose I’m going to show it by being unkind and mean to Mona? That’s not tactful.”

“I don’t want to be tactful. I want him to let her alone.”

“Well, you can’t make him do that, unless you shoot him; and that means a lot of bother all round.”

“It might be worth the bother.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, I’m in earnest. You’re seriously fond of Mona, aren’t you, Roger?”

“Yes, I am; or rather, I was until that cad came between us.”

“He isn’t exactly a cad,” said Patty, judicially. “I do believe in being fair, and while the man hasn’t all the culture in the world, he is kind-hearted and–”

“And awfully good to his mother, let us hope,” and Roger smiled, a little sourly. “Now, Patty girl, you’d better keep your pretty little fingers out of this pie. It isn’t like you to interfere in other people’s affairs, and I’d rather you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, fiddle-de-fudge, Roger! I’m not interfering, and it is my affair. Mona is my affair, and so are you; and now your Aunt Patty is going to bring about a reconciliation.”

“Not on my part,” declared Roger, stoutly;

CHAPTER VII
MORE MAKING UP

After the sixth dance was over, Patty asked her partner to bring Mr. Everson to her, and then she awaited his coming on a little sofa in an alcove.

If Eugene Everson was surprised at the summons, he did not show it, but advanced courteously, and took a seat by Patty’s side. He had a dance engaged with her much later in the evening, so Patty said, pleasantly:

“Mr. Everson, don’t think my request strange, but won’t you exchange our later dance for this number seven?”

“I would gladly, Miss Fairfield, but I’m engaged for this.”

“Yes, I know,” and Patty favoured him with one of her most bewitching smiles; “but the lady is Miss Galbraith, as I happen to know, and Miss Galbraith is a very dear friend of mine, and,—oh, well, it’s a matter of ‘first aid to the injured.’ I don’t want to tell you all about it, Mr. Everson, but the truth is, I want Miss Galbraith to dance this number with another man,—because,—because–”

It was not quite so easy as Patty had anticipated. She didn’t want to go so far as to explain the real situation, and she became suddenly aware that she was somewhat embarrassed. Her face flushed rosy pink, and she cast an appealing glance from her violet-blue eyes into the amused face of the man beside her.

“I haven’t an idea of what it is all about, Miss Fairfield, but please consider me entirely at the orders of yourself and Miss Galbraith. A man at a party is at best but a puppet to dance at the bidding of any fair lady. And what better fortune could I ask than to be allowed to obey your decree?”

Patty was greatly relieved when he took the matter thus lightly. In whimsical conversation she was on her own ground, and she responded gaily: “Let it remain a mystery, then; and obey as a noble knight a lady’s decree. Dance with me, and trust it to me that Miss Galbraith is also obeying a decree of mine.”

“For a small person, you seem to issue decrees of surprising number and rapidity,” and Everson, who was a large man, looked down at Patty with an air of amusement.

“Yes, sir,” said Patty, demurely, “I’m accustomed to it. Decrees are my strong point. I issue them ’most all the time.”

“And are they always obeyed?”

“Alas, noble sir, not always. Though I’m not sure that your question is as flattering as the remarks most young men make to me.”

“Perhaps not. But when you know me better, Miss Fairfield, you’ll find out that I’m very different from the common herd.”

“Really? How interesting! I hope I shall know you better very soon, for I adore unusual people.”

“And do unusual people adore you?”

“I can’t tell; I’ve never met one before,” and after the briefest of saucy glances, Patty dropped her eyes demurely.

“Aren’t you one yourself?”

“Oh, no!” And Patty looked up with an air of greatest surprise; “I’m just a plain little every-day girl.”

“You’re a plain little coquette, that’s what you are!”

“You are indeed unusual, sir, to call me plain!” and Patty looked about as indignant as an angry kitten.

“Perhaps, when I know you better, I may change my opinion of your plainness. Will you dance now?”

The music had been playing for some moments, and signifying her assent, Patty rose, and they joined the dancers who were circling the floor. Mr. Everson was a fine dancer, but he was all unprepared for Patty’s exquisite perfection in the art.

“Why, Miss Fairfield,” he said, unable to suppress his admiration, “I didn’t know anybody danced like you, except professionals.”

“Oh, yes, I’m a good dancer,” said Patty, carelessly; “and so are you, for that matter. Do you think they’ve made up?”

“Who?”

“Miss Galbraith and Mr. Farrington. See, we’re just passing them. Oh, I’m afraid they haven’t!”

It was difficult to judge by the glance they obtained in passing, but Patty declared that both Mona’s and Roger’s faces looked like thunder clouds.

“Give them a little longer,” said Mr. Everson, who began to see how matters stood.

“Perhaps another round, and we will find them smiling into each other’s eyes.”

But when they next circled the long room, Mona and Roger were nowhere to be seen.

“Aha,” said Everson, “the conservatory for theirs! It must be all right! Shall we trail ’em?”

“Yes,” said Patty. “I don’t care if they see us. Let’s walk through the conservatory.”

They did so, and spied Mona and Roger sitting under a group of palms, engaged in earnest conversation. They were not smiling, but they were talking very seriously, with no indication of quarrelling.

“I guess it’s all right,” said Patty, with a little sigh. “It’s awfully nice to have friends, Mr. Everson, but sometimes they’re a great care; aren’t they?”

“If you’ll let me be your friend, Miss Fairfield, I’ll promise never to be a care, and I’ll help you to care for your other cares.”

“Goodness, what a complicated offer! If I could straighten all those cares you speak of, I might decide to take you as a friend. I think I will, anyway,—you were so nice about giving me this dance.”

“I was only too delighted to do so, Miss Fairfield.”

“Thank you. You know it is in place of our other one, number sixteen.”

“Oh, we must have that also.”

“No, it was a fair exchange. You can get another partner for sixteen.”

“But I don’t want to. If you throw me over, I shall sit in a corner and mope.”

“Oh, don’t do that! Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you half of sixteen, and you can mope the other half.”

And then Patty’s next partner claimed her, and Mr. Everson went away.

Having done all she could in the matter of conciliating Mona and Roger, Patty bethought herself of her own little tiff with Philip Van Reypen. It did not bother her much, for she had little doubt that she could soon cajole him back to friendship, and she assured herself that if she couldn’t, she didn’t care.

And so, when he came to claim his dance, which was the last before supper, Patty met him with an air of cool politeness, which greatly irritated the Van Reypen pride.

He had thought, had even hoped, Patty would be humble and repentant, but she showed no such attitude, and the young man was slightly at a loss as to what manner to assume, himself.

But he followed her lead, and with punctilious courtesy asked her to dance, and they stepped out on to the floor.

For a few rounds they danced in silence, and then Philip said, in a perfunctory way: “You’re enjoying this party?”

“I have been, up to this dance,” and Patty smiled pleasantly, as she spoke.

“And you’re not enjoying yourself now?” Philip said, suppressing his desire to shake her.

“Oh, no, sir!” and Patty looked at him with big, round eyes.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like to dance with a man who doesn’t like me.”

“I do like you, you silly child.”

“Oh, no, you don’t, either! and I’m not a silly child.”

“And you’re not enjoying this dance with me?”

“Not a bit!”

“Then there’s no use going on with it,” and releasing her, Philip tucked one of her hands through his arm, and calmly marched her into the conservatory. The seat under the palms was vacant, and as she took her place in one corner of it, he poked one or two cushions deftly behind her back and made her entirely comfortable. Then he sat down beside her.

“Now,” he commanded, “say you’re sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you carried on with that horrid man and spoiled our friendship.”

“Didn’t carry on, and he isn’t a horrid man, and our friendship isn’t spoiled, and I’m not sorry.”

“Not sorry that our friendship isn’t spoiled?”

“No; ’course I’m not! You don’t s’pose I want it to be spoiled, do you?”

“Well, you certainly did all in your power to spoil it.”

“Now, look here, Philip Van Reypen, I’ve already exhausted myself this evening patching up one spoiled friendship, and it’s just about worn me out! Now if ours needs any patching up, you’ll have to do it yourself. I shan’t raise a finger toward it!”

Patty leaned back among her pillows, looking lovely and provoking. She tried to scowl at him, but her dimples broke through the scowl and turned it into a smile. Whereupon, she dropped her eyes, and tried to assume a look of bored indifference.

Van Reypen looked at her. “So she won’t raise a finger, won’t she? And I’ve got to do it myself, have I? Well, then, I suppose I’ll have to raise her finger for her.” Patty’s hand was lying idly in her lap, and he picked up her slender pink forefinger slowly, and with an abstracted air. “I don’t know how raising a finger helps to patch up a spoiled friendship,” he went on, as if to himself, “but she seems to think it does, and so, of course, it does! Well, now, mademoiselle, your finger is raised,—is our quarrel all patched up?”

Philip held her finger in one hand, and clasped her whole hand with the other, as he smiled into her eyes, awaiting an answer to his question.

Patty looked up suddenly, and quickly drew her hand away.

“Unhand me, villain!” she laughed, “and don’t bother about our friendship! I’m not worrying over it.”

“You needn’t, little girl,” and Philip’s voice rang true. “Nothing can ever shake it! And I apologise for my foolish anger. If you want to affect the society of men I don’t like,—of course I’ve no right to say a word, and I won’t. At any rate, not now, for I don’t want to spoil this blessed making-up with even a thought of anything unpleasant.”

“Now, that’s real nice of you, Philip,” and Patty fairly beamed at him. “It’s so nice to be friends again, after being near-not-friends!”

“Yes, milady, and you made up just in time. Aunty Van is having an opera party to-morrow night, and she wants you to go.”

“Are you going?” and Patty put her fingertip in her mouth, and looked babyishly at him.

“Oh, don’t let that influence you. Decide for yourself.”

“Well, since you don’t care whether I go or not, I believe I won’t go.”

“Foolish child! Of course you’ll go. And then, as you know very well, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

“How do wild horses keep people away? They must be trained to do it. And then, they’re not wild horses any more.”

“What foolishness you do talk! Well, will you go to the opera with us?”

“Yes, and thank you kindly, sir. Or, rather, I thank your august aunt for the invitation.”

“No, thank me. As a matter of fact, I made up the party. So it’s really mine, though I accept Aunty Van’s box for the occasion.”

“’Tis well, fair sir. I thank thee greatly. What may I do for thee in return?”

Patty clasped her hands and looked a pretty suppliant, begging a favour.

“Give me half a dozen more dances,” replied Philip, taking her card to look at.

“Not one left,” said Patty, calmly.

“And most of them halves!” exclaimed Philip. “What a belle you are, Patty!”

“All the girls are,” she returned, carelessly, which, however, was not quite true. “But I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll give you half of number sixteen. That’s Mr. Everson’s, but I’ll divide it. I told him I should.”

“You little witch! Did you save it for me?”

“M—m–,” and Patty slowly wagged her head up and down.