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.