“As usual,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling, “the question is, what is to be done with Patty?”

“Yes,” agreed Patty, complacently, “you and Nan are usually trying to dispose of me in some way. It’s lucky I’m good-natured and don’t mind being left behind.”

“That’s a pretty speech!” exclaimed Nan, “after we’ve begged and coaxed you to go with us!”

“So you have, my pretty little Stepmother—so you have; and I’m just ungrateful enough not to want to go.”

It was about a week after the birthday party, and the Fairfields were making their plans for the summer. The elders wanted to travel in Switzerland and Germany. Patty did not want to go with them, but her dilemma was, which of several delightful invitations to accept.

“You see,” she went on, “I’m invited to spend June in five separate places, each one lovelier than the other. Now I can’t chop myself up into five pieces.”

“You can chop June up into five pieces,” suggested Nan.

“Yes, but if I go to a country house to make a good long visit, I want to stay about a month. A week here and then a week there is so unsatisfactory. However, after much thoughtful brooding over the question, I’ve cut out three, and that brings my quandary down to only two places to decide between.”

“Lady Hamilton’s being one,” observed her father.

“Yes, Kitty’s is one; and Mabel Hartley’s is the other. Of course, if I spend June with Kitty, we’ll be right here in London all the time, and though I love it, yet I love the country too. Now, if I go to Mabel’s, I’ll have a beautiful experience of real English country life.”

“You would enjoy it, I’m sure,” said Nan; “and I think you’d better decide to go to Cromarty Manor, and then, if for any reason, you don’t like it, come back, and put in the rest of your time with Lady Kitty.”

“Nan, that’s an inspiration!” cried Patty, running across the room, and clasping Nan in one of her rather strenuous embraces.

“Look out! You’ll break her!” cried Mr. Fairfield, in great pretence of fear.

“No, indeed!” said Patty, “she’s too substantial. And anyway, such a clever suggestion deserves ample recognition.”

Patty sat on the arm of Nan’s chair, and amused herself by twisting Nan’s curly hair into tight little spirals.

“Stop that, Patty,” said her father; “you make Nan look like a pickaninny.”

“No matter what she looks like, if it’s becoming,” said Patty, serenely. “But truly, Nan, you ought to wear your hair like that; it’s awfully effective!”

The spirals now stood out all round Nan’s face, like a spiky frame, but the good-natured victim only laughed, as she said, “Never mind me, let’s get these great questions settled.”

So, after some more talk and discussion, it was settled that Patty should accept the Hartleys’ urgent invitation to Cromarty Manor, for, at least, a part of June, and then, if she cared to, stay also a time with Lady Hamilton.

“It may sound silly,” said Patty, thoughtfully, “but I can’t help feeling that Mabel not only wants me to visit her this summer, but she needs me. Now, I don’t mean to be conceited, but, don’t you know, you can tell when people seem to need you, if only in a trivial way.”

“I understand,” said Nan, quickly; “and you’re not conceited a bit, Patty. Mabel does need you. She is a sweet girl, but sometimes she seems to me the least bit morbid; no, not quite that, but verging that way. She adores you, and I’m perfectly sure that your companionship will do her a world of good.”

“I hope so,” said Patty; “I love Mabel, but there is something about her I can’t quite understand.”

“You’ll probably find out what it is, when you’re staying with her,” said her father, “and I know, Patty, you’ll do all in your power to brighten her up. The Merediths live near them, don’t they?”

“Yes; only a mile or two away. And the Merediths are gay enough for anybody. If they’re at home this summer, there’ll be plenty of fun going on, I’m sure.”

“Lady Hamilton will miss you a lot,” said Nan; “what does she say to your going?”

“Oh, she says she’ll miss me,” said Patty, “and so she will, some, but it’s not like it was when she was here, alone. Now that she’s settled in her father’s house again, she has so much to occupy her time and attention she’s never lonely. Of course, she’s just as fond of me, and I am of her, but since she’s gone away from here, I don’t see so much of her. And, truly, she doesn’t need me, and Mabel does. So I’ll go to Mabel’s first, and I shouldn’t be surprised if I stay there until you people come back from your trip. Mrs. Hartley asked me for the whole summer, you know, but you won’t be gone more than a month or six weeks, will you?”

“Not more than two months,” answered her father, “and you know, chickabiddy, if ever you want to join us, I’ll send for you, or come for you myself, whenever you say the word. Just telegraph me, and I’ll respond at once.”

“All right; I will if I want to. But there’s too much fun for me in civilization to want to go wandering off to the ends of the earth.”

“And you may decide to go to Herenden Hall for a time.”

“Yes, I may. I’d love to visit Lady Herenden again, if I thought that Earl gentleman wouldn’t be there.”

“He probably won’t be,” said Nan. “I daresay you scared him away from there forever.”

“Even so, I didn’t scare him as much as he scared me,” returned Patty, “but I do hope there won’t be any Earls at Cromarty. I like plain, big boys better.”

“Those Hartley boys are fine fellows,” observed Mr. Fairfield. “Young Meredith has more fun and jollity, but the Hartleys are of a sterling good sort. I like the whole family, and I’m glad, Patty girl, that you’ve decided to go there. I’ll willingly leave you in Mrs. Hartley’s care, and I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

“Of course I shall, Daddy, and I’ll write you every day, if you want me to.”

“Not quite so often, my dear. Twice a week, will be all you’ll find time for, I’m certain.”

“Quite likely,” said Patty, who was not very fond of writing letters.

Only a week later, Patty was to go away with the Hartleys. And a week was not a very long time for her preparations. There was shopping to do, and calling, and, as Nan and Mr. Fairfield were leaving at the same time, they were to give up their hotel apartment for the present.

But Lady Hamilton insisted that Patty must look upon Sir Otho’s big house in Carlton Terrace as her own home. If she cared to run up to London for a few days at any time, she would be more than welcome at Lady Kitty’s. Or she could leave there any trunks or other belongings that she wished. This greatly pleased Mr. Fairfield, for he felt more comfortable at leaving Patty, to know that she had a foothold in London, and somebody to look after her, should she care to leave Cromarty before her parents’ return.

At last the day of departure came, and Mr. Fairfield accompanied Patty to the station to meet the Hartleys for the journey.

It was with a homesick heart that Patty bade her father good-bye. Somehow, she suddenly felt that she was leaving her own people to go away with strangers. But she knew she must not be foolish, so she bravely kept back the tears and said good-bye with a tender, if not a gay, smile.

“It is the loveliest thing,” said Mabel, after they were settled in the train, “to think that you’re really going with us. I wanted you to, so dreadfully, but I didn’t urge it very much, for fear you wouldn’t enjoy yourself with us.”

“I always enjoy myself,” said Patty, “but I know I shall be happy with you.”

“We’ll try to make you so, Miss Fairfield,” said Bob, earnestly, and Patty smiled at him, and said:

“Then the first thing you can do toward it, is to drop that formal name, and call me Patty. I’m not really grown-up enough for the other.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” said Bob, as he looked at her critically. “So, as we’re all to live under one roof for a time, we’ll be first namers all round.”

“Good!” said Sinclair, “that suits me; and now, Mater, when you’re ready, we’ll go in to luncheon.”

Patty thought luncheon in the dining car was great fun. Only four could sit at a table, but as Mrs. Hartley had a slight headache and did not care to talk, she and Grandma Cromarty sat at another table, and left the four young people to chatter by themselves.

Everything interested Patty, from the unusual things she found on the menu to the strange sights she saw from the window.

This was her first trip in this direction, for they were travelling toward Leicester, and the scenes were all new to her.

The boys were full of fun and nonsense, and Mabel was so gay and jolly that Patty began to think she had imagined the girl was of a sad nature. They all told funny stories, and made absurd jokes, and poked fun at each other, and Patty concluded she was likely to have a very jolly summer with the Hartleys. Back they went after luncheon to their funny parlour car, which had double seats facing each other, with a small table between.

“Just the place for a game,” said Sinclair, as the four took their seats, two on either side of the table.

“What sort of a game?” asked Patty.

“Oh, I don’t know; I’ll make one up.” The boy took a bit of chalk from his pocket, and marked off the table into various sections, with a circle in each corner, and crosses here and there.

“Now,” he explained, as he offered each player a coin, “this isn’t money, you know. They’re merely counters, for the time being. But when the game is over you must all give them back to me, because they’ll be money again then.”

“But what do we do with them?” asked Patty, who was greatly interested in any game.

“I’ll show you. These places are homes, and these are wilderness. If you’re in the wilderness you may be captured, but if you’re at home, you can’t be.”

The game was really a mix-up of parcheesi, halma, and some others; to which were added some original rules out of Sinclair’s own head. Patty and Bob were partners against the other two, and soon the quartette were deeply absorbed in the game.

“You are the cleverest boy, to make this up!” cried Patty, as her side won, and they prepared to begin over again.

“Oh, he often makes up games,” said Mabel. “We all do, only Sinclair’s are always the best.”

“Mine are very good, though,” observed Bob, modestly.

“Good enough, yes,” said Sinclair; “only usually they’re so difficult that nobody can win but yourself.”

Bob made a profound bow at this compliment, and then the game went on. It seemed impossible that they had been about five hours on the train, when it was time to get out. They had reached Leicester, and from there were to drive to Cromarty Manor.

Two vehicles met them at the station.

Into one of these, a comfortable victoria, Sinclair assisted the four ladies, and in the other, the boys rode up with the luggage. The drive was beautiful, and Patty warmly expressed her gratitude to Mrs. Hartley, for inviting her to this delightful experience of English country life.

“It is beautiful,” said Mrs. Hartley, looking about her. “I’m always glad to get back from London to the restful quiet of these great trees and the far-away, peaceful hills.”

Mabel’s mood had changed. She no longer laughed and jested, and though sweet and gentle as ever, the hint of sadness had again crept into her face, and her speech was slow and quiet. Patty adapted her mood to the other’s, and it was almost in silence they drove along the country roads.

It was a long ride, and it was nearly dusk when at last they arrived at Cromarty Manor.

An old servant came out from the Porter’s Lodge to open the high iron gates for them.

He gave them a warm greeting, which seemed a heart-felt welcome, and not merely the speech of a paid dependant, and then they drove on toward the house.

The whole effect was so beautiful that it almost took Patty’s breath away. It was not a bit like Herenden Hall, it was more like an old feudal castle. The picturesque house was of gray stone, with towers and turrets almost entirely covered with ivy. From the ivy the birds flew in and out, and the darkness of the surrounding trees and tall shrubbery gave the place a weird and fairly mysterious appearance.

“You feel the charm of it, don’t you?” said Mrs. Hartley, kindly, as she looked at Patty’s rapt face and serious eyes.

“Yes, indeed,” said Patty, softly; “I can’t explain it, but it casts a spell over me. Oh, I don’t wonder you love it!”

But the darkness of the outer world was soon dispelled by a broad gleam of light, as the great front doors were thrown open. An old, gray-haired butler stood on the threshold, and greeted them with rather pompous respect and punctilious deference. The interior was quite in keeping with the outside view of the house. But though the old carved rafters and wainscoting were dark and heavy, cheerful lamps were in abundance, and in the halls and drawing-rooms, wax candles were lighted also.

At the first view on entering there seemed to be an interminable vista of rooms, that opened one from another; this was partly the effect of the elaborate old architecture, and partly because of many long mirrors in various positions.

The furniture, tapestries and ornaments were all of an epoch two centuries back, and the whole picture fascinated Patty beyond all words.

“It’s a wonderful place,” she said at last; “and after a week or two, I’m going to examine it in detail. But at first I shall be satisfied just to bask in its atmosphere.”

“You’ll do!” cried Bob, who had just arrived. “If you hadn’t appreciated Cromarty, we were going to pack you straight back to London; but you’ve acquitted yourself nobly. Nobody could make a better speech than you did, and I’ll wager you didn’t learn it beforehand either.”

“I couldn’t,” said Patty, “because I didn’t know what the place was like. What few remarks you made about it seem like nothing, now that I’ve begun to see it for myself.”

“Yes, and you’ve only begun,” said Sinclair. “To-morrow, when you get further into the heart of it, you’ll surrender to its charm as we all do.”

“I’m sure I shall,” agreed Patty, “and, indeed, I think I have already done so.”