“There, Kitty lady,” said Patty, as she reached the Savoy on her return from the Garden Party, “there’s a nosegay from your affectionate father.”

Lady Hamilton stared at the bunch of sweet peas that Patty held out to her.

“My word!” she exclaimed, “you are the most amazing child! I suppose he sent them to me just about as much as I sent him those valley lilies you took to him the other day.”

Lady Kitty guessed so near the truth that Patty felt a little crestfallen.

“It was more than that,” she said. “I asked him to send some flowers to you, and he bought these purposely.”

“Did he select sweet peas, himself?”

“Yes.”

“That means something, then, Patty dear; for father well knows my fondness for these flowers. Well, you’re a dear, good little girl to try to heal the breach, but I can’t feel much encouragement. Father is too old and too obstinate ever to forgive me.”

“And you’re too young and too obstinate to go and beg his forgiveness!”

“Indeed I am! Fancy my meekly returning, like a prodigal daughter, when I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You don’t deserve a reconciliation,” cried Patty; “you’re a hard-hearted little thing,—for all you look so soft and amiable.”

“Yes,” said Lady Kitty, demurely; “I inherited my father’s disposition.”

“Indeed, you did; and you’ll grow more like him every day you live, if you don’t try to be more forgiving.”

“I believe you’re right, Patty; and perhaps some day I will try. But now let me tell you what’s been happening. While you were away, I had a call from that very charming stepmother of yours. And this was the burden of her visit. It seems that she and your father are invited to spend the week-end at a country house, and the question was, where to pack you away for safe-keeping while they’re gone.”

“And they’re going to let me stay with you!” exclaimed Patty, clasping her hands and assuming an ecstatically happy expression.

“Well, Mrs. Nan seemed to think that I could keep you in order, though I’m not so sure of it myself. But the strange part is, I also am invited for this same week-end to a most delightful country house, and I have already accepted.”

Patty’s face fell.

“What is to become of poor little me?” she said. “I don’t want to stay with Mrs. Betham.”

“No; I’ve a plan for you. And it’s this. I want to take you with me to Herenden Hall, where I’m going, and,—Mrs. Nan says I may.”

“Oh, Kitty! You duck! How perfectly lovely!” Patty flew at her friend, and nearly strangled her in a spasmodic embrace.

“You see,” went on Lady Hamilton, when she had regained her breath, “I’m so well acquainted with the Herendens, that I can ask an invitation for you; and though you’re not really ‘out’ yet, it will give you a glimpse of the nicest kind of English country-house life.”

“It’s great!” declared Patty. “I’m wild with excitement. But I care more about being with you than I do about the house-party.”

“You won’t when you get there. They’re really charming people, and the Hall is one of the finest old estates in England.”

“Shall I have to have some new frocks?”

“We’ll look over your wardrobe, and see. I fancy the ones you already have will do. You know you’ll be looked upon as scarcely more than a schoolgirl, and you must wear simple, frilly muslins and broad-leafed hats.”

“I can even live through that! I don’t care what I wear if I’m with you. Three whole days! Will it be three days, Kitty?”

“Three days or more. If they politely ask us to remain a day or two longer we might do so. They’re old friends of mine, do you see? And I haven’t been there for years, so they’ll be glad to see us.”

“To see you, you mean. They don’t know me, so how can they be glad to see me?”

“Oh, you must,—what is your idiotic American phrase? You must ‘make good’!”

“I will,” said Patty, laughing to hear the phrase from an Englishwoman, and then she ran away to her own apartment, to talk over affairs with Nan.

“It’s a great piece of good fortune,” said Nan, “that you’re such good friends with Lady Hamilton, for Fred and I couldn’t take you with us, and what would have become of you?”

“Oh, I always land on my feet,” returned Patty, “I must have been born under a lucky star.”

“I believe you were, Pattykins.”

“And won’t I have the time of my life at Herenden Hall——”

“Oh, Patty, Patty, you must stop using slang. They’ll never ask you to Herenden Hall again if you behave like a wild Indian.”

“But you see, Stepmother, they look upon me as an infant anyhow, so I may as well have some fun.”

“But don’t be a hoyden, and do remember that American slang isn’t admired over here.”

“Yas’m; I’ll be good. And I’ll say ‘Really?’ and ‘Only fancy!’ till they’ll think I’m the daughter of a hundred Earls.”

“I’m not at all worried about your manners,” said Nan, serenely. “You usually behave pretty well, but you will talk American instead of English.”

“Well, I’ll try to make myself understood, at all events. And you’re going to have a lovely time, too, aren’t you? Isn’t it fun! I do like to have all my friends as happy as I am. I suppose you and father will be like two young turtle-doves off on your honeymoon trip.”

“Oh, we’re always that, even when there’s a great, big girl like you around to make us seem old.”

“Well, if you behave as well as you look, I won’t be ashamed of you.” Patty gazed critically at Nan, and then added, “Though your nose does seem to turn up more than it used to.”

Whereupon Nan threw a sofa-pillow at her, which Patty caught and stuffed behind her own curly head.

The Saturday of their departure was a beautiful, bright day, and it was about noon when Patty and Lady Hamilton, accompanied by the latter’s maid, took the train from Victoria Station.

It was a long ride to their destination in Kent, and not an especially interesting one, but Patty, in the companionship of her dear friend, was entirely happy. They chatted gaily as the train rolled from one English town to another. At Robertsbridge they had to change to a funny little railroad, which had the strangest cars Patty had ever seen.

They were almost like freight cars, with benches along the sides. There were no tickets, and presently the guard came in to collect their fares, as if in a street-car.

Moreover the luggage had been tumbled in without check or paster, and Patty wondered if anybody ever could pick out their own again.

“Your regular first-class coaches are funny enough,” she said to Lady Hamilton, “but they are comfortable. This box we’re in is like a cattle pen.”

“Oh, no,” laughed Lady Hamilton; “this isn’t bad at all. You see it’s only a tiny branch road, running to some little hamlets, and it’s not much used. There are only about two trains each way every day.”

This gave Patty a different idea of the little railroad, and she began to feel a more personal interest in it. They rolled slowly through the hop-growing country, and though the scenery was not grand, it was picturesque. Patty said it was like a panorama of “The Angelus.” They reached their station at about five o’clock, and found a fine open barouche awaiting them, and a wagon for their trunks.

The footman greeted them deferentially, and asked them to pick out their luggage from the lot that had been dumped on the station platform.

“I can’t see either of my trunks,” said Patty. “So I suppose I’d better take the ones I like best of these others.”

“Nonsense,” said Lady Hamilton; “yours must be here somewhere. Look around, Marie; you know Miss Fairfield’s boxes.”

“Yes, my Lady; but they are not here.”

Sure enough, they weren’t there, and as Patty was certain they had been put on the train, she concluded they had been carried on.

“What can I do?” she cried. “Can we telephone to the next station and have them sent back?”

But in that small station, merely a tiny box, there was no telephone.

The impassive coachman and footman from Herenden Hall seemed to have no advice to offer, so there was nothing to do but to proceed to the house.

Patty was distressed at the outlook.

“Oh, Kitty,” she said; “I can’t go to dinner at all! Of course I couldn’t appear in this travelling costume, and I’ll have to put on one of your nÉgligÉes, and eat dinner all alone in my room!”

The prospect was appalling, but neither of them could think of any help for it.

“Has Lady Herenden any daughters about my age?” Patty asked, after a few moments’ thought.

“No, indeed. She and Lord Herenden have no children. But if there are any young girls there as guests, you might borrow a frock for to-night. Surely they’ll get your things by to-morrow.”

They drove into the park, through great gates, and past various lodges. The wonderful old trees waved above their heads; the marvellous lawns stretched away in rolling slopes; and the well-kept road wound along, now over a bridge, now under an arch until they paused at the noble old entrance of Herenden Hall.

Liveried servants seemed to appear, as if by magic, from all directions at once. Dogs came, barking a noisy welcome, and, following Lady Hamilton across the terrace and into the great entrance hall, Patty found herself being presented to a lovely young woman, almost as beautiful as Lady Hamilton herself.

“You must be the greatest chums,” Lady Hamilton was saying, “for Miss Fairfield is one of my dearest friends, and I want you to adore each other.”

“We will!” said Lady Herenden and Patty, at the same moment, and then they all laughed, and the guests were at once shown to their rooms.

After a bewildering route through several branching halls, Patty found that to her had been assigned a large and pleasant room, which looked out upon the rose-garden. On one side it communicated with Lady Hamilton’s room, and on the other opened into a dainty dressing-room and bath. It was all enchanting, and Patty’s gaze rested admiringly upon the chintz draperies and Dresden ornaments, when she heard a tap at her door. Answering, she found a trim maid, who courtesied and said: “I’m Susan, Miss. Will you give me the keys of your boxes, and I’ll unpack them.”

Patty almost laughed at this casual request, in the face of what seemed to her a tragedy.

“Susan,” she said, “here are the keys, but you can’t unpack my boxes for they haven’t come.”

“Lor’, Miss; they must be downstairs. I’ll have them sent up.”

“No—wait, Susan; they’re not downstairs. They didn’t come on the train.”

“Lor’, Miss, whatever will you do?”

The girl’s eyes grew big and troubled. Here was a dreadful situation indeed! Already Susan felt drawn toward the pretty young American girl, and she was aghast at the outlook of a dinner party with no party frock.

“I can’t go to dinner at all, Susan,” said Patty, dejectedly. “You must bring me a tray up here—though I don’t feel like eating.”

“Not go to dinner, Miss? Oh, what a pity! It’s a grand dinner to-night. The Earl of Ruthven is here, and it’s one of her ladyship’s greatest dinners of the season.”

The good Susan looked so concerned, and her face was so anxious, that it went straight to Patty’s heart. To her mind there came a vivid and tantalising remembrance of her exquisite dinner frock, of white chiffon, embroidered with tiny sprays of blossoms—a soft sash and shoulder-knots—one of the loveliest dresses she had ever had, and with a sob she threw herself on to the couch and indulged in a few foolish but comforting tears.

“There, there, Miss,” said Susan, sympathisingly, “don’t ee take on so. Maybe we can find summat for ee.”

When Susan was excited or troubled, she lapsed into her old dialect, which she was striving to outgrow.

“You can’t find anything, I know,” said Patty, sitting up, and looking the picture of woe. “There are no very young ladies in the house, are there, Susan?”

“No, Miss, none so young as yourself, nor near it.”

“And I can’t wear this,” went on Patty, looking at the silk blouse that was part of her travelling gown.

“Lor’ no, Miss; not to a dinner!”

“Then what?”

“Then what, indeed, Miss!”

Patty and Susan faced each other, at last in a full realisation of the hopelessness of the situation, when, after a light tap at the door, Lady Hamilton came in.

She laughed outright at the tragic attitude of the two, and knew at once what they were troubled about.

“Listen to me, Pattypet,” she said. “Am I your fairy godmother, or am I not?”

“You are,” said Patty, with an air of conviction, and feeling sure that Lady Hamilton was about to help her out of her troubles, somehow.

“Well, I’ve carefully considered the case. I’ve sent Marie to canvass the house for clothes suitable for a mademoiselle of seventeen.”

“Nearly eighteen,” murmured Patty.

“It doesn’t matter. There isn’t what’s known as a ‘misses’ costume’ beneath this roof. Now, I simply refuse to let you be absent from this dinner. It will be both a pleasure and an education to you to see this especial kind of a formal function, and probably you’ll not often have a chance. They’ve sent a man and a wagon over to the next station, several miles away for your boxes; that’s the way they do things here. But he can’t get back until long after the dinner hour. So listen, to my command, dictum, fiat—call it what you please, but this is what you’re to do.”

“I’ll do anything you say, Kitty Lady, if it’s to go to bed at once, and sleep soundly till morning.”

“Nothing of the sort. You must and shall attend this dinner. And—you’re going to wear one of my gowns!”

“Yours?”

“Yes. We’re so nearly the same size that it will fit you quite well enough. I’ve picked out the simplest one, a white Irish point. It’s cut princess, but all my gowns are. I’m sure Marie can make it fit you perfectly, with a few pins or a stitch here and there.”

“Oh, it will fit well enough, but, Kitty, won’t I be the grown-up! I’ve never worn a real train in my life!”

“Of course it’s a lot too old for you, and truly, I hate to have you appear in a gown like that. But what else can we do? I won’t let you miss the dinner—and after all, it doesn’t matter so much. After this visit I doubt if you’ll ever see these people again, and let them think you’re five or six years older than you are. Who cares?”

“I don’t,” said Patty, gleefully. “I think it will be fun. I’ll have my hair piled high on my head. Can you do it for me, Sarah?”

“Oh, yes, Miss. I’m a hair-dresser and I’m that glad you’re going to dinner.”