It was the custom at Herenden Hall to serve morning tea to the guests in their rooms.

When Patty’s tray was brought, she asked to have it taken into Lady Hamilton’s room, and the two friends chatted cosily over their toast and teacups.

Lady Kitty, with a dainty dressing-jacket round her shoulders, was still nestled among her pillows, while Patty, in a blue kimono, curled up, Turk-fashion on the foot of the bed.

“It’s a gorgeous day,” observed Patty, stirring her tea, which she was trying to sip, though she hated it. “I’ll be glad to explore that lovely rose garden without horrid old moonlit Earls.”

“It’s a wonderfully fine place, Patty; you really must go over the estate. I’ll show you round myself.”

“Thank you,” said Patty, airily, “but I believe I have an engagement. Mr. Snowden, or Snowed on, or Snowed under, or whatever his name is, kindly offered to do that same.”

“Yes, and he’ll kindly withdraw his offer when he sees you in your own rightful raiment. I’ve a notion to put you in a pinafore, and give you a Teddy Bear to carry. There’s no keeping you down any other way.”

“Oh, don’t be alarmed. I’ve no designs on the young men. I like the boys better, anyhow. That Jack Merivale is a chummy kind of a youth. That’s the sort I like. Rest assured I won’t trouble that wretched Earl. I won’t even speak to him, and I’ll make over to you whatever interest he may deign to show in me.”

“As one Humpty Dumpty said, ‘I’d rather see that on paper.’”

“So you shall,” said Patty, and setting down her unfinished tea, she flew to the writing table.

Perching herself on the corner of the desk chair, she laid out a sheet of Lady Herenden’s crested note paper, and took up a pen. “Shall I write the agreement as I please?” she said, “or will you dictate it?”

“I’ll dictate,” said Lady Kitty, smiling lazily at the foolery. But as she paused between sentences, Patty put in parentheses of her own, and when finished the remarkable document read thus:

(“Lady Patricia would sound great! Wouldn’t it?”)

“There, Kitty Cat,” said Patty, tossing the paper to Lady Hamilton, “there’s your agreement, and now, my dreams of glory over, I’ll go and ‘bind my hair and lace my bodice blue.’ I always wondered how people bind their hair. Do you suppose they use skirt braid?”

But Lady Kitty was shaking with laughter over Patty’s foolish “document” and offered no reply.

An hour or so later, Patty presented herself for inspection.

She wore a pale blue dimity, whose round, full blouse was belted with a soft ribbon. The skirt, with its three frills edged with tiny lace, came just to her instep, and disclosed dainty, patent-leather oxfords.

Her golden braids, crossed and recrossed low at the back of her head, were almost covered by a big butterfly bow of wide white ribbon. In fact, she was perfectly garbed for an American girl of eighteen, and the costume was more becoming to her pretty, young face than the trained gown of the night before.

Lady Hamilton was still at her dressing table.

“I feel quite at ease about you now,” she said, looking up. “Nobody will propose to you in that rig. They’ll be more likely to buy you a doll. I’m not nearly ready yet, but don’t wait. Run along downstairs, you’ll find plenty of people about.”

Slowly Patty descended the great staircase, looking at the pictures and hanging rugs as she passed them.

“For mercy’s sake, who is that?” was Lady Herenden’s mental exclamation as the girl neared the lower floor.

“Good-morning, Lady Herenden,” cried Patty, gaily, as she approached her hostess. “Don’t look so surprised to see me, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Why, it’s Miss Fairfield!” exclaimed the elder lady, making room for Patty on the sofa beside her.

“Yes, and I really owe you an explanation. You see, my boxes didn’t come last night, and I had to wear one of Lady Hamilton’s gowns at dinner. I couldn’t tell you so, before all the guests, and so you didn’t know me this morning in my own frock.”

“It’s astonishing what a difference it makes! You look years younger.”

“I am. I’m not quite eighteen yet, and I wish you’d call me Patty, won’t you?”

“I will, indeed,” said Lady Herenden, answering the pretty smile that accompanied the request. “I knew Kitty Hamilton said you weren’t out yet, and so, when I saw you last night, I just couldn’t understand it. But I do now. Have you breakfasted, dearie?”

“Yes, thank you. And now, I want to go out and see the flowers, and the dogs. May I?”

“Yes, indeed. Run around as you like. You’ll find people on the terrace and lawn, though there are no girls here as young as yourself.”

“That doesn’t matter. I like people of all ages. I’ve friends from four to forty.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re a friendly little thing. Be sure to go through the rose orchard; it’s back of the rose garden, and you’ll love it.”

Hatless, Patty ran out into the sunshine, and, strolling through the rose garden, soon forgot all else in her delight at the marvellous array of blossoms.

As she turned a corner of a path, she came upon two men talking together. They were Lord Ruthven and Lord Herenden’s head gardener.

“Yes,” his lordship was saying, “you’ve done a good thing, Parker, in getting that hybrid. And this next bush is a fine one, too. Is it a Baroness Rothschild?”

“No,” said Patty, carelessly joining in the conversation, “it’s a Catherine Mermet.”

“So it is, Miss,” said the gardener, turning politely toward her, but Lord Ruthven, after a slight glance, paid no attention to the girl.

“Are you sure, Parker?” he said. “The Mermets are usually pinker.”

“He doesn’t know me! What larks!” thought Patty, gleefully. “I’ll try again.”

“Where is the rose orchard, Parker?” she asked, turning her full face toward the gardener, and leaving only the big white bow to greet the Earl.

Something in her voice startled Lord Ruthven, and he wheeled quickly about. “It is—it can’t be—Miss Fairfield?”

“Good-morning, my lord,” said Patty, with cool politeness. “This, of course,” she thought to herself, “is the civility of the day.”

“I will show you the rose orchard,” went on the Earl. “Come with me.”

“No, thank you,” said Patty, turning again to the gardener. She was absurdly placed, and she felt a little embarrassed. But, on the other hand, she had pledged her word, and a silly performance it was! But she would keep it, at least until Lady Hamilton released her from her promise. Patty’s ideas of honour were, perhaps, a little strained, but she took the promise of that burlesque document as seriously as if it had been of national importance. And now she was in a dilemma. To refuse to walk with the Earl was so rude, and yet to talk with him was to break her pledged word.

The gardener went on about his work, and the other two stood silent. For the first time in her life, Patty had a really difficult situation to cope with. If she could have laughed and talked naturally, it would have been easy to explain matters. But that absurd paper sealed her lips. Oh, why had she been so foolish?

She did not look at the Earl, but he gazed fixedly at her.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why are you so changed from last evening?”

Patty thought hard. She was allowed the “civilities of the day,” so she must depend on those.

“Isn’t it a charming morning?” she said, without, however, turning toward the man at her side.

“It is indeed. But why are you such an enigma? Are all Americans so puzzling?”

“And isn’t the rose garden wonderful?” went on Patty, still looking off in the distance.

“Wonderful, of course. Please look at me. I believe, after all, you’re Miss Fairfield’s younger sister! Ah, I have guessed you at last!”

Patty still looked straight ahead, but an irrepressible smile dimpled the corners of her mouth.

“Do you think it will rain?” she said.

“By Jove, I won’t stand this!” cried the Earl, impetuously. “I know you are yourself—the Miss Fairfield I talked with last night—but why you’re masquerading as a schoolgirl, I don’t know!”

At this Patty could restrain her mirth no longer, and her pretty laughter seemed to appease the Earl’s irritation.

“Am I not fit to be looked at, or spoken to?” he said, more gently; “and if not, you must at least tell me why.”

“I can’t tell you why,” said Patty, stifling her laughter, but still gazing at the far-away hills.

“Why can’t you? Have you promised not to?” The Earl meant this as a jest, little thinking it was the truth, but Patty, now nearly choking with merriment, said demurely, “Yes, sir.”

“Nonsense! I’m not going to eat you! Look at me, child.”

“I can’t,” repeated Patty, in a small voice, and holding her wilful, golden head very straight, as she stared firmly ahead.

“Whom did you promise?”

“You have no right to ask.”—“That,” said Patty to herself, “is an ordinary incivility, but I can’t help it!”

“I have a right to ask! And I don’t care whether I have or not. You’re a mischief, and I won’t stand any more of your chaff. Who made you promise not to speak to me, or look at me?”

The Earl, quietly, but with a decided air, moved around until he faced Patty, and the laughing blue eyes were so full of fun that he laughed too.

“You ridiculous baby!” he cried; “what are you, anyway? One night, a charming young woman, the next day, a naughty child.”

“I’m not naughty! Nobody made me promise. I did it of my own free will.”

“But whom did you promise?”

“Lady Hamilton,” said Patty, remembering all at once that the matter was to be referred to her.

“Oho! Well, now, see here. You just break that promise, as quick as you can, and I’ll make it square with Lady Hamilton.”

“Will you?” said Patty, drawing a long sigh of relief. “And will you blot out last evening, and pretend it never was, and begin our acquaintance from now?”

“I will,” said the Earl, looking at her, curiously, “if you will tell me why you seem to have a dual personality.”

Then Patty explained her appearance at dinner in Lady Hamilton’s gown, and to her pleased surprise, the Earl laughed long and loudly.

“Best joke ever!” he declared; “a baby like you giving an imitation of the ‘belle of the ball’!”

“I’m not so infantile,” said Patty, pouting a little, for the Earl now treated her as if she were about twelve.

“You are!” he declared. “You ought to be in the schoolroom eating bread and jam.”

“I’d like the bread and jam well enough, for I’m getting hungrier every minute.”

“Well, it’s an hour yet to luncheon time; come along and I’ll show you the rose orchard. It may make you forget your gnawing pangs of hunger.”

On pleasant terms, then, they went through the gate in the high hedge that surrounded the enclosure. The rose orchard was unique. It had originally been a fruit orchard, and as most of the trees were dead, and many of them fallen, roses had been trained over their trunks and branches. The gorgeous masses of bloom covered the old gnarled wood, and the climbing roses twined lovingly around branches and boughs. Here and there were rustic seats and arbours; and there were many bird-houses, whose tiny occupants were exceedingly tame and sociable. Several other guests were walking about, and Patty and the Earl joined a group which included their host and hostess.

“How do you like it?” said Lady Herenden, drawing Patty’s arm through her own.

“It’s the most beautiful place since the Garden of Eden,” said Patty, so enthusiastically that everybody laughed.

Then Mr. Snowden sauntered up, and reminded Patty of her promise to go walking with him.

“You haven’t seen the deer park yet,” he said, “nor the carp pond; though I believe the carp are merely tradition. Still, the pond is there.”

“Run along, child!” said Lady Herenden. “You’ll just about have time for a pleasant stroll before luncheon.”

Patty was greatly relieved when Mr. Snowden made no reference to her age or her costume. He treated her politely and chatted gaily as he led her around to see all the picturesque bits of woodland and meadow. The magnificent old place showed its age, for it had not been unduly renovated, though everything was in good order.

They went into the old church, which was on the estate, they visited the farmhouses and stables, and Patty found Mr. Snowden a kind and entertaining guide.