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CHAPTER XII
COASTING

Christmas morning was as white as the most picturesque imagination could desire. A heavy snow had fallen in the night and lay, sparkling, all over the fields and hills, so that now, in the sunshine, the whole earth seemed powdered with diamonds.

Patty came dancing downstairs, in a dainty little white morning frock.

“Merry Christmas, everybody!” she cried, as she found the group gathered round the fireplace in the hall. “Did you ever see such a beautiful day? Not for skating,” and she smiled at Hal, “but for snow-balling or coasting or any old kind of fun with snow.”

“All right,” cried Roger. “Who’s for a snow frolic? We can build a fort–”

“And make a snow-man,” put in Daisy, “with a pipe in his mouth and an old hat on his head. Why do snow-men always have to have those two things?”

“They don’t,” said Jim Kenerley. “That’s an exploded theory. Let’s make one this morning of a modern type, and let him have anything he wants except a pipe and a battered stove-pipe hat.”

“We’ll give him a cigarette and a Derby,” said Patty. “Oh, here comes the mail! Let’s have that before we go after our snow-man.”

The chauffeur came in from a trip to the post-office, with his hands and arms full of mail,—parcels, papers, and letters,—which he deposited on a table, and Jim Kenerley sorted them over.

“Heaps of things for everybody,” he said. “Belated gifts, magazines, letters, and post cards. Patty, this big parcel is for you; Daisy, here are two for you.”

“May take letters! Let baby May be postman!” cried the infant Kenerley.

“Let her, Jim,—she loves to be postman,” and Adèle put the baby down from her arms, and she toddled to her father.

“Great scheme!” said Hal. “Wait a minute, midget; I’ll make you a cap.”

With a few folds, a newspaper was transformed into a three-cornered cap and placed on the baby’s head.

“Now you’re a postman,” said her uncle. “Go and get the letters from the post-office.”

“Letters, p’ease,” said the baby, holding out her fat little hands to her father.

“All right, kiddums; these parcels are too big for you; you’re no parcel-post carrier. But here’s a bunch of letters; pass them around and let every one pick out his own.”

Obediently, the baby postman started off, and passing Daisy first, dumped the whole lot in her lap.

“Wait a minute, Toddles,” said Daisy. “I’ll pick out mine, then you take the rest on.”

Daisy selected half a dozen or more, and gave the rest of the lot back to the little one, who went on round the circle, letting each pick out his own letters.

Patty had about a dozen letters, and cards and greetings of various sorts. Some she tore open and read aloud, some she read to herself, and some she kept to open when she might be alone.

“Have you opened all your letters, Patty?” asked Jim, looking at her, quizzically.

“No; I saved father’s and Nan’s to read by myself, you people are so distracting.”

“Oho! Father’s and Nan’s! Oho! aha! And are those the only ones you saved to read by yourself, young lady?”

“I saved Elise’s, also,” said Patty, looking at him, a little surprised. “Aren’t you the inquisitive gentleman, anyway!”

“Elise’s! Oh, yes, Elise’s! And how about that big blue one,—what have you done with that?”

“I don’t see any big blue one,” said Patty, innocently. “What do you mean, Jim?”

“Oho! what do I mean? What, indeed!”

“Now, stop, Jim,” said his wife. “I don’t know what you’re teasing Patty about, but she shan’t be teased. If she wants to keep her big blue letter to herself, she’s going to keep it, that’s all.”

“Of course I shall,” said Patty, saucily. “That is, I should, if I had any big blue letter, but I haven’t.”

“Never mind big blue letters,” said Roger, “let’s all go out and play in the snow.”

So everybody put on wraps and caps and furs and out they went like a parcel of children to frolic in the snow. Snow-balling was a matter of course, but nobody minded a lump of soft snow, and soon they began to build the snow-man.

He turned out to be a marvel of art and architecture, and as his heroic proportions were far too great for anybody’s hat or coat, they draped an Indian blanket around him and stuck a Japanese parasol on the top of his head to protect him from the sun.

Roger insisted on the cigarette, and as the snow gentleman had been provided with a fine set of orange-peel teeth, he held his cigarette jauntily and firmly.

“I want to go coasting,” said Patty.

“And so you shall,” said Jim. “I sent for a lot of sleds from the village, and I think they’ve arrived.”

Sure enough, there were half a dozen new sleds ready for them, and snatching the ropes, with glee, they dragged them to a nearby hill.

It was a long, easy slope, just right for coasting.

“Want to be pioneer?” asked Roger of Patty. And ever-ready Patty tucked herself on to a sled, grasped the rope, Roger gave her a push, and she was half-way down the hill before any one knew she had started. The rest followed, and soon the whole party stood laughing at the bottom of the long hill.

“The worst is walking up again,” said Patty, looking back up the hill.

“Do you say that because it’s what everybody says,—or because you’re lazy?” asked Philip.

“Because I’m lazy,” returned Patty, promptly.

“Then get on your sled, and I’ll pull you up.”

“No, I’m not lazy enough for that, I hope! But I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll race you up.”

“Huh! as if I couldn’t beat you up, and not half try!”

“Oh, I don’t know! Come on, now, do your best! One, two, three, go!”

Each pulling a sled, they started to run uphill; at least, Philip started to run, and at a good rate; but Patty walked,—briskly and evenly, knowing full well that Philip could not keep up his gait.

And she was right. Half-way up the hill, Philip was forced to slow down, and panting and puffing,—for he was a big man,—he turned to look for Patty. She came along, and swung past him with an easy stride, flinging back over her shoulder, “Take another sprint, and you may catch me yet!”

“I’ll catch you, no matter how much I have to sprint,” Philip called after her, but he walked slowly for a few paces. Then, having regained his breath, he strode after her, and rapidly gained upon her progress. Patty looked over her shoulder, saw him coming, and began to run. But running uphill is not an easy task, and Patty’s strength began to give out. Philip saw this, and fell back a bit on purpose to give her an advantage. Then as they were very near the top, Patty broke into a desperate run. Philip ran swiftly, overtook her, picked her up in his arms as he passed, and plumped her down into a soft snowbank at the very top of the hill.

“There!” he cried; “that’s the goal, and you reached it first!”

“With your help,” and Patty pouted a little.

“My help is always at your disposal, when you can’t get up a hill.”

“That would be a fine help, if I ever had hills to climb. But I never do. This is a great exception.”

“But there are other hills than snow hills.”

“Oh, I suppose now you’re talking in allegories. I never could understand those.”

“Some day, when I get a real good chance, I’ll explain them to you. May I?”

Philip’s face was laughing, but there was a touch of seriousness in his tone that made Patty look up quickly. She found his dark eyes looking straight into her own. She jumped up from her snowbank, saying: “I want to go down again. Where’s a sled?”

“Come on this one with me,” said Hal, who had a long, toboggan sort of an affair.

“This is great!” said Patty. “Where did you get this double-rigged thing?”

“It’s been here all the time, but you’ve been so wrapped up in that Van Reypen chap that you had no eyes for anybody else, or anybody else’s sled! I’m downright jealous of that man, and I’ll be glad when he goes home.”

“Ah, now, Chub,” said Patty, coaxingly, “don’t talk to me scoldy! Don’t now; will you, Chubsy?”

“Yes, I will, if you like him better than you do me.”

“Why, goodness, gracious, sakes alive! I’ve known him for years, and I’ve only known you a few days!”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ve only known you a few days, and I’m head over heels in love with you!”

“Wow!” exclaimed Patty, “but this is sudden! Do you know, it’s so awful swift, I don’t believe it can be the real thing!”

“Do you know what the Real Thing is?”

“Haven’t a notion.”

“Mayn’t I tell you?”

“No, sir-ee. You see, I don’t want to know for years yet! Why can’t people let me alone?”

“Who else has been bothering you?” demanded Hal, jealously.

“I don’t call it a bother! I supposed it was part of the game. Don’t all girls have nice compliments, and flattery kind of speeches from the young men they know?”

“I don’t know whether they do or not,” growled Hal.

“Well, I know; they do, and they don’t mean a thing; it’s part of the game, you know. Now, I’ll tell you something. I’ve known Philip Van Reypen ever so much longer than I have you, and yet I like you both exactly the same! And Roger just the same,—and Jim just the same!”

“And Martin, the chauffeur, just the same, I suppose; and Mike, the gardener, just the same!”

“Yep,” agreed Patty. “Everybody just the same! I think that’s the way to do in this world, love your neighbour as yourself, and look upon all men as free and equal.”

“Well, I don’t think all girls are equal,—not by a long shot. To my mind they’re divided into two classes.”

“What two?” said Patty, with some curiosity.

“One class is Patty Fairfield, and the other class is everybody else.”

They had reached the bottom of the hill before this, and were sitting on the sled, talking. Patty jumped up and clapped her hands. “That’s about the prettiest speech I ever had made to me! It’s a beautiful speech! I’m going right straight up the hill and tell it to everybody!”

“Patty, don’t!” cried Hal, his honest, boyish face turning crimson.

“Oh, then you didn’t mean it!” and Patty was the picture of disappointment.

“I did! Of course I did! But girls don’t run and tell everything everybody says to them!”

“Don’t they? Well, then, I won’t. You see, I haven’t had as much experience in these matters as you have! Mustn’t I ever tell anything nice that anybody says to me?”

“Not what I say to you, anyhow! You see, they’re confidences.”

“Well, I don’t want any more of them just now. I came out here for coasting, not for confidences.”

“I fear, my dear little girl, you’re destined all through life to get confidences, whatever you may go for.”

“Oh, what a horrible outlook! Well, then, let me gather my coasting while I may! Come on, Chubsy, let’s go up the hill.” And putting her hand in Hal’s, Patty started the upward journey.

At the top she declared she was going for one more ride downhill, and this time with Jim. “For,” she said to herself, “I would like one ride without ‘confidences.’”

“Off we go!” said Jim, as he arranged her snugly on the toboggan sled, and took his place in front of her. They had a fine ride down, and Jim insisted on pulling Patty up again. She rode part way, and then decided it was too hard work for him, and jumped off.

“I guess I’m good for some walk,” she said, as she tucked her arm through his, and they climbed the hill slowly.

“I guess you are, Patty. You’re strong enough, only you’re not as hardy as Daisy and Adèle. I believe our Western girls are heartier than you New Yorkers. By the way, Patty, speaking of the West at large, what made you tell a naughty story this morning?”

“I didn’t!” and Patty looked at him with wide-open eyes. “I have a few faults, Jim, a very few, and very small ones! but truly, storytelling isn’t among them.”

“But you said you didn’t get a big blue letter,” pursued Jim.

“And neither I did,” protested Patty. “What do you mean, Jim, by that big blue letter? I didn’t see any.”

“Patty, it’s none of my business, but you seem to be in earnest in what you say, so I’ll tell you that there certainly was in the mail a big blue letter for you, addressed in Bill Farnsworth’s handwriting. I wasn’t curious, but I couldn’t help seeing it; and I know the dear old boy’s fist so well, that I was moved to tease you about it.”

“It didn’t tease me, Jim, for I didn’t get any such letter.”

“Well, then, where is it?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure. Perhaps baby May kept it.”

“Perhaps some of the boys got it and kept it to tease you.”

“I don’t believe they’d do that. Perhaps Adèle saved it for me. Well, we’ll look around when we get home, but don’t say anything about it.”

But when they reached the house, neither Jim nor Patty could find the blue letter. Adèle said she had not seen it, and Patty insisted that no one else should be questioned. Privately, she thought that Hal Ferris had received it by mistake from baby May, and had kept it, because he, too, knew Bill’s handwriting, and because,—well, of course, it was foolish, she knew,—but Hal had said he was jealous of any other man, and he might have suppressed or destroyed Bill’s card for that reason. She felt sure it was not a letter, but merely a Christmas card. However, she wanted it, but she wanted to ask Hal for it herself, instead of letting the Kenerleys ask him.

“Dinner will be at two o’clock,” Adèle made announcement. “It’s considered the proper thing to eat in the middle of the day on a holiday, though why, I never could quite understand.”

“Why, of course, the reason is, so the children can eat once in a while,” suggested her brother.

“Baby can’t come to the table. She’s too little, and her table manners are informal, to say the least. However, the tradition still holds, so dinner’s at two o’clock, and you may as well all go and get dressed, for it’s after one, now. There’ll be a few extra guests, so you girls will have somebody to dress up for.”

“I like that,” said Roger; “as if we boys weren’t enough for any girls to dress up for!”

“But you’ve seen all our pretty frocks,” laughed Patty. “It’s only strangers we can hope to impress with them now. I shall wear my most captivating gown, if Mr. Collins is coming. Is he, Adèle?”

“Yes, and Mr. Hoyt, too; and two more girls. Skip along, now, and don’t dawdle.”

But Patty dawdled on the staircase till Ferris came along, and then she spoke to him in a low tone. “Chub, you didn’t see a stray letter of mine this morning, did you?”

“’M—what kind of a letter?”

“Oh, a blue envelope, with probably a card inside. I hadn’t opened it, so I don’t know what was in it.”

“Who was it from?”

“Why, how could I tell, when I hadn’t opened it! In fact, that’s just what I want to know.”

“What makes you think I know anything about it?”

“Oh, Chub, don’t tease me! I haven’t time, now; and truly, I want that letter! Do you know anything about it?”

“No, Patty, I don’t. I didn’t see any letters addressed to you, except the bunch you had in your hand. Have you really lost one?”

“Yes,” said Patty, seeing that Hal was serious. “Jim told me there was one for me from Mr. Farnsworth, and I want it.”

“Bill Farnsworth! What’s he writing to you for? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“I don’t know him very well; I only met him last summer. And I don’t know that he did write to me; it was probably just a card. But I want it.”

“Yes, you seem to. Why, Patty, you’re blushing.”

“I am not any such thing!”

“You are, too! You’re as pink as a peach.”

“Well, I only blushed to make you call me a peach,—and now that I’ve succeeded, I’ll run away.”

So blushing and laughing both, Patty ran upstairs to her own room. Hal had been so frank that she was convinced he knew nothing about the letter, and she began to fear it must have been tossed into the fire, with the many waste papers that were scattered about.

CHAPTER XIII
HIDE AND SEEK

All the time Patty was dressing she wondered about that letter; and when Mona, ready for dinner, stopped at her door, Patty drew her into the room.

“Mona,” she said, “did you get a Christmas card from Mr. Farnsworth?”

“Yes,” said Mona, “in a big blue envelope. Daisy had one, too. Didn’t you get one?”

“No; Jim said there was one for me, but it got lost somehow. Thrown in the fire, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Well, don’t mind,” said Mona, cheerfully. “You can have mine. It isn’t very pretty, and Daisy’s isn’t either, but I suppose they’re the best Bill could find out there in Arizona. Do you want it now, Patty?”

“I don’t want it at all, Mona. What would I want with your card, or Daisy’s either? But if Little Billee sent one to me, I’d like to have it, that’s all.”

“Of course you would; but truly, they don’t amount to much.”

“Jim must have been mistaken about there being one for me,” said Patty, and then the two girls went downstairs.

The Christmas dinner was practically a repetition of the feast of the night before; but as Adèle said, how could that be helped if people would have two Christmas celebrations on successive days?

There were four extra guests, who proved to be merry and jolly young people, and after dinner Hal declared that his reign as Lord of Misrule was not yet over.

“Don’t let’s do any more stunts like we had last night,” said Mona. “They wear me out. Let’s play easy games, like blindman’s buff, or something.”

“Or Copenhagen,” said Hal, but Patty frowned at him.

“We’re too grown-up for such things,” she declared, with dignity. “What do you say to a nice, dignified game of hide and seek?”

“All over the house!” cried Roger. “May we, Mrs. Kenerley?”

“The house is yours,” said Adèle. “I reserve no portion of it. From cellar to attic, from drawing-room to kitchen, hide where you will and seek where you like,—if you’ll only promise not to wake the baby. She’s taking her afternoon nap.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind noise,” said Roger. “We do make an awful racket, you know.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean that,” said Adèle. “I’ve trained her not to mind noise. But I mean if your hiding and seeking takes you into the nursery quarters, do go softly.”

“Of course we will,” said Philip. “I’m specially devoted to that baby, and I’ll see that her nap isn’t disturbed, even if I have to stand sentry at her door. But what larks to have the whole house! I’ve never played it before but what they wouldn’t let you hide in this room or that room. Who’ll be It?”

“Oh, that’s an old-fashioned way to play,” said Hal. “Here’s a better way. Either all the men hide and the girls find them, or else the other way around; and, anyway, don’t you know, whoever finds who, has to be her partner or something.”

“For life?” asked Jim, looking horrified.

“Mercy, no!” said his brother-in-law. “This is a civilised land, and we don’t select life partners that way!”

“You mean just partners for a dance,” said Patty, trying to help him out.

“Well, you see,” said Hal, “it ought to be more than just a dance; I mean more like a partner for a,—for a junketing of some kind.”

“I’ll tell you,” said Adèle. “There’s to be a masquerade ball at the Country Club on New Year’s Eve, and we’re all going.”

“Just the thing!” cried Hal. “Now, whichever seeker finds whichever hider, they’ll go in pairs to the ball, don’t you see? Romeo and Juliet, or anything they like, for costumes.”

“But we won’t be here,” and Philip Van Reypen looked ruefully at Roger. “We go back to town to-morrow.”

“But you can come up again,” said Adèle, hospitably. “I hereby invite you both to come back the day before New Year’s, and stay as long as you will.”

“Well, you are some hostess!” declared Roger, looking grateful. “I accept with pleasure, but I doubt if my friend Van Reypen can get away.”

“Can he!” cried Philip. “Well, I rather guess he can! Mrs. Kenerley, you’re all sorts of a darling, and you’ll see me back here on the first train after your invitation takes effect.”

“Then hurrah for our game of hide and seek,” Hal exclaimed. “Jim and Adèle, you must be in it, too. You needn’t think you can go as Darby and Joan,—you must take your chances with the rest. If you find each other, all right, but if you find anybody else, that’s your fate,—see?”

“I’m willing,” said Adèle, laughing. “I’m sure I’d be glad to go with any of you beautiful young men.”

“Now, will you listen to that!” cried her husband. “Well, I won’t be outdone in generosity. I’ll be proud to escort any one of this galaxy of beauty,” and he looked at the group of pretty girls.

“Now, we must do it all up proper,” said Hal. “In the first place, we must draw lots to see whether the girls shall hide or we shall. We must have it all very fair.”

He tore two strips of paper, one longer than the other, and holding them behind him, bade Adèle choose.

“Right!” she said, and Hal put forth his right hand and gave her a paper on which was written “Girls.”

“All right,” went on the master of ceremonies. “Now you girls must hide. We’ll give you fifteen minutes to tuck yourselves away, and then we’re all coming to look for you. As soon as any man finds any girl, he brings her back here to the hall to wait for the others. Now, there’s no stipulation, except that you must not go out of the house. Scoot! and remember, in fifteen minutes we’ll be after you!”

The six girls ran away and made for various parts of the house. The two Misses Crosby, who had come as dinner guests, looked a little surprised at this unusual game, and Patty said to them, kindly: “You don’t mind, do you? You know, you needn’t really go with the man who finds you, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, we don’t mind,” said the elder Miss Crosby. “I think it’s fun,—only if I should draw that dignified Mr. Van Reypen I’d be scared to death!”

“Oh, he isn’t so awfully dignified,” laughed Patty. “That’s just his manner at first. When you know him better, he’s as jolly as anything. But hurry up, girls, the minutes are flying.”

The girls scampered away, some running to the attic, others going into wardrobes or behind sofas, and Patty ran to her own room.

Then she bethought herself that that was one of the most likely places they would look for her, and she was seized with an ambition to baffle the seekers. With a half-formed plan in her mind, she slipped out of a side door of her own room that opened on a small passage leading to the nursery. In the nursery, she found the baby asleep in her crib, and the Fräulein lying down on a couch with a slumber-robe thrown over her, though she was not asleep.

Like a flash, Patty’s plan formed itself. She whispered to the Fräulein, and with a quick understanding the good-natured German girl took off her rather voluminous frilled cap, with its long muslin streamers, and put it on Patty’s head. Then Patty lay down on the couch, with her face toward the wall, and deep buried in the pillows. Fräulein tucked the slumber-robe over her, and then herself disappeared down into the kitchen quarters.

The search was rather a long one, for the house was large, and the girls had chosen difficult hiding-places.

The two Crosby girls were found first, because not knowing the house well, they had simply gone into hall closets, and stood behind some hanging dresses. They were discovered by Jim Kenerley and Hal; and if the latter was disappointed in his quarry, he gave no sign of it.

The four returned to the hall, and after a while they were joined by Roger and Mona.

“Oho,” said Jim, who loved to tease, “what a coincidence that you two should find each other!”

“Easy enough,” said Roger. “I knew Mona would choose the very hardest place to find; so I went straight to the attic to the very farthest, darkest corner, and there she was, waiting for me!”

“There I was,” said Mona, “but I wasn’t waiting for you!”

“No, you were waiting for me, I know,” said Jim, ironically. “But never mind, Mona, we’ll be partners next time. Hello, Adèle, is that your terrible fate?” and they all laughed as Adèle and Mr. Hoyt came in together, with cobwebs on their hair and smudges of black on their faces.

“I thought I’d be so smart, Jim, and I hid in the coal-bin; but Mr. Hoyt found me! By the way, we must have that place cleaned; it’s a disgrace to the house!”

“But you know, my dear, we don’t often use it to receive our guests in.”

“Well, I don’t care, it must be cleaned. There’s no excuse for cobwebs. Now I must go and tidy up. I hope they haven’t wakened the baby. Oh, here’s Daisy.”

Daisy and Mr. Collins came in, laughing, and Mr. Collins declared he had found Miss Dow hanging out the third-story window by her finger-tips.

“Nothing of the sort,” said Daisy. “I was out on a kind of little balcony place, that’s on top of a bay-window or something,—but I put my hands over the sill inside, so that I could say I was still in the house. Wasn’t that fair?”

“Well, it’s fair enough, as long as I found you,” said Mr. Collins. “But when I saw your hands, I really thought you were hanging from the sill!”

“Where’s Patty?” asked Daisy, “and Mr. Van Reypen? Are they still finding each other?”

“I saw Phil,” said Roger, “standing guard at the nursery door, as he said he would. He let us each go in and look around, on condition that we wouldn’t wake the baby. And the baby’s nurse was also asleep on the sofa, so I looked around and sneaked out as fast as I could.”

Just then Van Reypen came downstairs. “I’ve been delayed,” he said, “because I held the fort for the baby, until every man-jack of you had been in the nursery. Now I’m going to begin my search. Who is there left to find?”

“Oh, who, indeed?” said Jim, looking wise. “Oh, nobody in particular! Nobody but that little Fairfield girl, and of course you wouldn’t want to find her!”

“Patty!” exclaimed Philip, as he looked around at the group. “Why, she isn’t here, is she? Where can that little rascal be? You fellows have been all over the house, I suppose?”

“Every nook and cranny,” declared Mr. Hoyt. “It was as a very last resort that I went to the coal-bin and captured Mrs. Kenerley.”

“Been through the kitchens?” asked Philip, looking puzzled.

“I have,” said Mr. Collins. “They’re full of startled-looking servants who seemed to think I was a lunatic, or a gentleman burglar,—I don’t know which.”

“Well, of course she’s got to be found,” said Philip. “There’s no use looking in the obvious places, for Patty’s just cute enough to pick out a most unexpected hiding-place. Come on, Roger; you found your girl,—help me with mine.”

“Oh, it isn’t fair to have help,” said Hal. “Alone upon your quest you go!”

“Here I go, then.” And Philip ran upstairs three at a time. He went first to the attics, and made a systematic search of every hall, room, and closet. He even peeped into the great tank, as if Patty might have been transformed into a mermaid. Then followed a thorough search of the second story, with all its rambling ells and side corridors; he tiptoed through the nursery, smiling at the sleeping baby and casting a casual glance at the still figure on the couch with the long, white cap-strings falling to the floor.

On he went, through the various rooms, and at last, with slow step, came down into the hall again.

“I think she had one of those contraptions like the Peter Pan fairies,” he said, “and flew right out through the roof and up into the sky! But I haven’t searched this floor yet. May I go into the dining-room and kitchens, Mrs. Kenerley?”

“Everywhere,” said Adèle. “You know I made no reservations.”

Philip strode through the rooms, looked under the dining-room table and into the sideboard cupboards; on through the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchens. Needless to say, he found no Patty, and returned, looking more puzzled than ever.

“I’m not going down cellar,” he said. “Something tells me that Patty couldn’t possibly stay down there all this time! It’s more than an hour since she hid.”

“What are you going to do about it?” inquired Jim. “Give it up? I’ll ring the Chinese gong for her to come back to us. That was to be a signal in case of an emergency.”

“No,” said Philip. “I’m going to reason this thing out. Give me a few minutes to think, and I believe I can find her.”

“Don’t anybody disturb him, let him think!” said Mona, gaily, and going to the piano, she began to play “Alice, where art thou?” in wailing strains that made them all laugh.

All at once Philip jumped up. “I know where she is!” he exclaimed. “Sit still all of you, and I’ll bring her back with me!”

“Wait a minute,” said Adèle, curiously. “How did you find it out?”

“Do you know where she is?” and Philip looked at her intently.

“No, I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Adèle, honestly. “But I wondered how you could know, just from thinking about it.”

“It’s clairvoyance,” said Philip, with a mock air of mystery. “You see, I know all the places where she isn’t, so the one place I have in mind must be where she is. By the way, Mrs. Kenerley; baby always takes an afternoon nap, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, always.”

“And does the Fräulein, her nurse, always take a nap at the same time?”

“Oh, no! She never naps in the daytime.”

“She did to-day,” began Roger, but Philip was already flying upstairs again.

He went softly into the nursery. The baby was still asleep, the figure on the couch still lay quietly beneath the knitted afghan.

Philip went over and stood beside the couch. The face was buried in the pillow, but beneath the edge of the cap he saw some stray golden curls.

“H’m!” he mused, in a low voice, but entirely audible to Patty. “I thought baby May’s nurse had dark hair. She must have bleached it!”

Patty gave no sign that she heard, but cuddled her head more deeply in the soft pillows.

“Why, it isn’t the Fräulein at all!” said Philip, in tones of great surprise. “It’s the Sleeping Beauty!”

Still Patty gave no intimation of being awake, though, of course, she was.

Then Philip leaned down over her and murmured: “And I’m the Prince; and when the Prince finds the Sleeping Beauty, there’s only one course for him to pursue.”

At this, Patty opened her eyes and prepared to spring up, but she was not quite quick enough, and Philip lightly kissed the top of her little pink ear, before she could elude him.

“How dare you!” she cried, and her eyes flashed with indignation.

But Philip stood calmly smiling at her.

“It’s entirely permissible,” he said, “when any Prince finds a Sleeping Beauty, to kiss her awake.”

“But I wasn’t asleep!” stormed Patty, “and you knew it!”

“You gave such a successful imitation of it, that I consider myself justified,” he returned. “And, anyway, it was only a little bit of a butterfly kiss, and it doesn’t really count.”