Sarah was indeed an expert hair-dresser, and she piled up Patty’s hair in soft coils, and twisted the curly tendrils into fluffy puffs, and though the result was beautiful, it made Patty look like her own older sister. A jewelled ornament of Lady Hamilton’s crowned the coiffure, and this gave an added effect of dignity. The lace gown was easily made to fit its new wearer. Marie pinned it, and sewed it, and patted it into place, till nobody would suspect it had not been made for Patty. But the long lines of the Princess pattern took away all of Patty’s usual simple girlish appearance, and transformed her at once into a beautiful, queenly young woman. The dÉcolletÉe corsage, and the sleeves, which were merely frills of lace, were very becoming; and the long train, which billowed into a frou-frou of chiffon ruffles took away the last semblance of a girl of eighteen. Notwithstanding her softly-curved cheeks and throat, and her exquisite, fresh complexion, Patty looked quite the young woman of society and could easily have been adjudged about twenty-four years old.

Her eyes danced, as she walked sedately through the open door and into Lady Hamilton’s room.

“My word, Patty!” exclaimed that lady, “you’re simply stunning in that gown! You look as if you’d been ‘out’ for two or three seasons. Your people would never forgive me if they knew how I’ve dressed you up.”

“It was the only thing to do,” said Patty, airily, as she began to draw on her arms a pair of Lady Hamilton’s long white gloves. “The wonder is that you had plenty of all sorts of things to fit me out, and also that they do fit so well. These gloves are just right, though I confess the slippers pinch me just a speck.”

“‘Pretty never hurts,’ you know,” said Lady Hamilton, laughing. “Marie, isn’t Miss Fairfield a picture?”

“Mais oui! She is charmante. It is amazing how the gown suits her. She is trÈs-belle!”

With the grown-up clothes, Patty had quite unconsciously assumed a grown-up air. She nonchalantly flung aside her train with just the same gesture Lady Hamilton was wont to use, and she carried herself with a dignity and graciousness of manner which would have been absurd when wearing her own simple frocks.

“Gracious, goodness, child!” cried Lady Hamilton. “Come down off that pedestal! You walk like a Duchess. It won’t do, you know, really.”

“I don’t mean to,” said Patty; “you know I’m a sort of chameleon. This gown makes me feel as if I belonged in an opera-box, or had an audience with the Queen.”

“Oh, you goose! Stop your nonsense, and we’ll go down to dinner. Mind, now, none of those airs, or I’ll send you back to your room.”

Patty honestly tried to be her own simple-minded self, and would have succeeded all right, if Herenden Hall had not been so lavishly provided with mirrors. On the grand staircase she came face to face with a radiant creature, and was about to step aside when she discovered it was herself! Involuntarily she gazed at the reflection of the white-gowned lady, and unconsciously an air of serenity, almost hauteur, replaced her usual merry smile, and with a gracious mien she passed on down the stairs.

Lady Herenden awaited them in the drawing-room.

A brilliant assemblage was already there, for Patty’s unusual costuming had caused her some delay. After the first few introductions, Lady Hamilton and Patty became separated, and the guests stood about conversing in small groups.

Patty chanced to fall in with some very entertaining people, among whom was the Earl of Ruthven.

The Earl was a handsome man, tall, and of an imposing presence.

When presented to Patty, he gazed at her with frank, though quite deferential admiration. “So pleased to meet you, Miss Fairfield,” he said; “I adore American ladies.”

Patty really felt a little in awe of an Earl, as she had never met one before, and was about to make a shy response, when a slight movement of her head showed her her own reflection in a nearby mirror.

Realising afresh that she was masquerading as a society lady, a spirit of mischief suddenly took possession of her, and she determined to throw herself into the rÔle. So, with a pretty little toss of her head, and a charming smile, she said:

“Thank you, Lord Ruthven; I adore Englishmen, too, but I know so few of them.”

“You’ve not been here long, then?”

“No, only a few weeks. And there’s so much I want to learn.”

“Let me teach you,” said his Lordship, eagerly. “I do not think you would prove a dull pupil.”

Patty’s eyes smiled. “No Americans are dull,” she said.

“That’s true; my experience has already proved it. I’ve met six, I think, including yourself. But what sort of things do you want to learn?”

“The language, principally. I just want to learn to say ‘only fancy’ occasionally, and ‘d’y’ see?’ in the middle of every sentence.”

“It’s not easy,” said Lord Ruthven, thoughtfully, “but I think I can teach you in, say, about ten lessons. When shall we begin the course?”

Patty looked at him reproachfully. “If you knew the American nature at all,” she said, “you’d know that we always begin things the moment the plan occurs to us.”

“Good! there’s no time like the present.”

But just then their conversation was interrupted by the announcement of dinner.

Patty hoped she would sit at table next the Earl, but it was not so. The nobleman was accorded the seat of honour at the right of his hostess, while Patty, as a minor guest, was far away across the table. But she found herself between two affable and pleasant-mannered young Englishmen, and instantly forgot all about her titled friend.

Indeed, the bewildering beauty of the scene claimed her attention, and she fairly held her breath as she looked about her. The great oval room was lighted only by wax candles in crystal chandeliers and candelabra. This made a soft, mellow radiance quite different from gas or electricity. On one side of the room long French windows opened on to the terrace, through which came the scent of roses and the sound of plashing fountains. On the other side, only slender pillars and arches divided the dining-room from a conservatory, and a riotous tangle of blossoms and foliage fairly spilled into the room, forming almost a cascade of flowers.

The great round table was a bewildering array of gold plate, gilded glass, and exquisite china, while on the delicate lace of the tablecloth lay rare blossoms that seemed to have drifted from the circular mound of flowers which formed the low centrepiece.

Twenty-four guests sat round the board, in chairs of gilded wicker, and as the silent, black-garbed waiters served the viands, the scene became as animated as it was beautiful.

Patty forgot all else in her absolute enjoyment of the fairy-like spectacle, and was only brought back to a sense of reality by the sound of a voice at her side. Mr. Merivale was speaking—the young man who had escorted her out to dinner, and who now sat at her right hand.

“You love beauty of detail,” he was saying as he noted Patty’s absorption.

“Oh, isn’t it great!” she exclaimed, and then suddenly realised that the expression was not at all in keeping with the dignity of her Princess gown.

But Mr. Merivale seemed amused rather than shocked.

“That’s American for ‘ripping,’ isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “But whatever the adjective, the fact is the same. Lady Herenden’s dinners are always the refinement of the spectacular.”

Patty realised the appropriateness of this phrase, and cudgelled her brain for an appropriate reply. She began to think that playing grown-up was a more difficult game than she had supposed. Had she had on her own simple little frock, Mr. Merivale would not have talked to her like that.

“Don’t you remember last season,” he went on, “when Lady Herenden had a real pond, with gold fish in the middle of the table, and ferns and water lilies round the edge?”

“I wasn’t here last season,” said Patty. “I have never been in England until this summer.”

“Indeed? I know you are an American, but you have really an English manner.”

“It’s acquired,” said Patty, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I find my American manner isn’t admired over here, so I assume London airs.”

“Ah, you wish to be admired?”

“Of all things!” declared naughty Patty, with a roguish glance at the jesting young man.

“You’ll probably get your wish,” he replied. “I’m jolly well ready to do my share.”

This brought the colour to Patty’s cheeks, and she turned slightly away, toward the man on her other side.

He was a slightly older man than Mr. Merivale and was the squire of an adjoining estate. He was quite ready to talk to his American neighbour, and began the conversation by asking her if she had yet seen Lady Herenden’s rose-orchard.

“No, Mr. Snowden,” said Patty, “I only arrived a few hours ago, and I’ve not been round the place at all.”

“Then let me show it to you, please. I’ll come over to-morrow morning for a stroll. May I?”

“I don’t know,” said Patty, hesitatingly, for she was uncertain what she ought to do in the matter. “You see, I’m with Lady Hamilton, and whatever she says——”

“Oh, nonsense! She’ll spare you from her side for an hour or two. There’s really a lot to see.”

Again poor Patty realised her anomalous position. But for her piled-up hair and her trained gown, the man would never have dreamed of asking her to go for a walk unchaperoned. Patty had learned the ethics of London etiquette for girls of eighteen, but she was not versed in the ways of older young women.

“We’ll see about it,” she said, non-committally, and then she almost laughed outright at the sudden thought of Mr. Snowden’s surprise should he see her next day in one of her own simple morning frocks of light muslin. Lady Hamilton’s morning gowns were Paris affairs, with trailing frills and long knotted ribbons.

“It seems to amuse you,” said Mr. Snowden, a trifle piqued at her merriment.

“You’ll be amused, too,” she said, “if you see me to-morrow.”

Then something in the man’s pleasant face seemed to invite confidence, and she said, impulsively:

“I may as well tell you that I’m masquerading. I’m not a grown-up lady at all. I’m not much more than a schoolgirl—not quite eighteen years old. But—but my box didn’t come, and—and I had to wear Lady Hamilton’s gown. It makes me seem a lot older, I know, but I had to do it, or stay away from dinner.”

Mr. Snowden looked first amazed, and then he burst into laughter.

“I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” he said, “but I had no idea! And so Lady Hamilton is your chaperon? I see. Of course. Well, we’ll have the stroll just the same, if you will, and we’ll ask her to go with us.”

“Isn’t she the dearest thing?” exclaimed Patty, looking at Lady Kitty across the table, and feeling much more at her ease now that she had confessed her position.

“She is a beautiful and charming woman,” agreed Mr. Snowden.

And then it was time for Patty to turn back to Mr. Merivale, for she had learned that one must divide the time fairly between dinner neighbors.

“I didn’t offend you, did I?” said young Merivale, eagerly. “You turned so quickly—and—and you—er—blushed, you know, and so I was afraid—er——”

But Patty was of no mind to confess the fewness of her years to everybody, and her mischievous spirit returned as she determined to chaff this amusing young man.

“What!” she said, reproachfully, “an Englishman, and afraid!”

“Afraid of nothing but a fair lady’s displeasure. All true Englishmen surrender to that.”

“I’m not displeased,” said Patty, dimpling and smiling; “in fact, I’ve even forgotten what you said.”

“That’s good! Now we can start fresh. Will you save a lot of dances for me to-night?”

“Oh, will there be dancing?” exclaimed Patty, delighted at the prospect.

“Yes, indeed; in the big ballroom. Will you give me all the waltzes?”

Patty looked at him in amazement. “You said you were going to ‘start fresh,’” she said, “and now you’ve certainly done so!”

But the American phrase was lost on the Englishman, who only proceeded to repeat his request.

Meantime, Mr. Snowden was asking Patty for a dance.

“Certainly,” she said, “I shall be pleased to dance with you.”

“You’ll give me more than one dance or you needn’t give me any,” grumbled young Merivale.

“All right,” said Patty, quickly. “Mr. Snowden, I’ve just had a dance ‘returned with thanks,’ so you can have that, if you wish it.”

“I do indeed,” he replied, enthusiastically, and Mr. Merivale relapsed into a sulky silence.

Then Lady Herenden rose from the table, and the ladies all rose and followed her up to one of the beautiful salons, where coffee was served to them. Patty managed to secure a seat on a divan beside Lady Hamilton.

“You quite take my breath away, little Patty,” said her friend, in a low voice. “You are already a favourite, and in a fair way to become the belle of the ball.”

“I try not to act too old, Kitty,” said Patty, earnestly, “but truly everybody thinks I’m a society lady. They don’t even look on me as a dÉbutante.”

“Never mind, dearie; have all the fun you can. Enjoy the dancing, and don’t care what anybody thinks.”

Encouraged by Lady Hamilton’s approval, Patty ceased to think about her demeanour and proceeded to enjoy the conversation of those about her.

Lady Herenden was especially kind to her, and singled out the young American for her special favour and attention.