It was after midnight when the Christmas guests went away, and Patty declared her intention of going to bed at once.

“I coasted and danced and played hide and seek till I’m utterly worn out,” she said, “and I think I shall sleep for a week!”

“But I’m going away to-morrow,” said Philip, detaining her a moment.

“But you’re coming back next week. I’ll promise to be awake by then. But now I’m going to hibernate, like a bear! Good-night, everybody!” and Patty ran upstairs without further ceremony.

But as, in her pretty blue nÉgligÉe, she sat before the mirror brushing her long hair, Mona, Daisy, and AdÈle all came into her room, quite evidently with a determination to chat.

“You’re an old sleepy-head, Patty,” declared AdÈle. “You may sleep as late as you like in the morning, but we want to have a little confab now, about lots of things.”

“Nicht, nein, non, no!” cried Patty, jumping up and brandishing her hair-brush. “I know perfectly well what your confabs mean,—an hour or more of chattering and giggling! Come in the morning,—I’m going to have my chocolate upstairs to-morrow,—and I’ll give you all the information you want. But as for to-night, skip, scoot, scamper, and vamoose, every dear, sweet, pretty little one of you!”

Laughingly, Patty pushed the three out of her room, and closing the door after them, turned its key, unheeding their protests, and returned to her hair-brushing.

“It’s no use, Patricia,” she said, talking to herself in the mirror, as she often did, “letting those girls keep you up till all hours! You need your beauty sleep, to preserve what small pretence to good looks you have left.”

Patty was not really vain of her pretty face, but she well knew that her delicate type of beauty could not stand continuous late hours without showing it, and Patty was not mistaken when she claimed for herself a good share of common sense.

But as she brushed away at the golden tangle of curls, she heard a light tap at her door, which sounded insistent, rather than mischievous.

“Who is it?” she asked, as she rose and went toward the door.

“It’s Daisy,” said a low voice. “Let me in, Patty, just for a minute.”

So Patty opened the door, and Daisy Dow came in.

“I want to tell you something,” she said, as Patty stood waiting, brush in hand. “I don’t really want to tell you a bit,—but Jim says I must,” and Daisy looked decidedly cross and ill-tempered.

Patty realised that it was a bother of some kind, and she said, gently, “Leave it till morning, Daisy; we’ll both feel brighter then.”

“No; Jim said I must tell you to-night. Oh, pshaw, it’s nothing, anyway! Only there was a letter for you from Bill Farnsworth, and I took it from May, and kept it for a while, just to tease you. I was going to give it to you to-morrow, anyway; but Jim came and asked me about it, and made such a fuss! Men are so silly!”

“Why, no, Daisy, it isn’t anything much; only you know people do like to have letters that belong to them! But, as you say, it’s nothing to make a fuss about. Incidentally, I believe it’s a State’s prison offence,—or would be if you opened it. You didn’t, did you?”

“Of course not!” said Daisy; “but I knew it was only a card, like ours, and I just kept it back for fun.”

“It doesn’t seem to me an awfully good joke,—but never mind that. Give me the letter, and we’ll call it square, and I won’t have you arrested or anything.”

Patty spoke lightly, but really she was deeply annoyed at this foolish trick of Daisy’s. However, since Jim had found out the truth and made Daisy own up, there was no great harm done.

“I haven’t got the letter,” said Daisy. “I left it downstairs, but we can get it in the morning. I’m sure it’s only a card; it is just the same size and shape as ours.”

“Daisy, what did you do it for?” And Patty looked the girl in the eyes, in a real curiosity to know why she should descend to this petty meanness.

“Because you’re such a favourite,” said Daisy, truthfully. “Everybody likes you best, and everybody does everything for you, and you get everything, and I wanted to tease you!”

Patty grasped the girl by her shoulders, and shook her good-naturedly, while she laughed aloud. “Daisy, you do beat the dickens! You know that foolish little temper of yours is too silly for anything, and if you’d conquer it you’d be a whole lot nicer girl! You’re just as pretty as anybody else, and just as jolly and attractive, but you get a notion that you’re slighted when you’re not; and that makes you ill-tempered and you lose half your charm. Don’t you know that if you want people to love you and admire you, you must be sunshiny and pleasant?”

“Huh, that isn’t my nature, I s’pose. I can’t help my quick temper. But, anyway, Patty, you’re a dear not to get mad,—and I’ll give you the letter the first thing in the morning.”

“Where is it, Daisy?”

“Oh, I just stuck it between two volumes of a cyclopÆdia, on a shelf in the library. So, you see, we can’t get it till morning; but it will be safe there, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying,” and Patty smiled, as Daisy said a somewhat abrupt good-night, and went away.

There were still a few embers of a wood fire glowing on the hearth, and Patty sat down before it in a big arm-chair.

“I don’t know why I’m so glad,” she said to herself, her weariness all gone now. “But I did feel neglected to have Little Billee send the other girls cards, and leave me out. I’d like to see it; I hardly glanced at theirs,—though I remember, they weren’t very pretty. I’d like to see Little Billee again, but I don’t suppose I ever shall. Well, there are plenty of other nice boys in the world, so it doesn’t matter much. All the same, I’d like to see that card. I believe I’ll go down and get it. There’s always a low light in the hall, and I can feel it between the books.”

Patty hesitated for some time, but finally her impatience or curiosity got the better of her, and she softly opened her door and peeped out. There were low lights in the halls, and as she listened over the banister and heard no sounds, Patty began to creep softly down the stairs. Her trailing robe of light blue crÊpe de chine was edged with swansdown, and she drew it about her, as she noiselessly tiptoed along in her slippered feet.

The hall light shone dimly into the library, through which Patty could see a brighter light in the smoking-room beyond. She listened a moment, but hearing no voices, concluded she could creep into the library, capture her card, and return undiscovered.

“And, anyway,” she thought to herself, “there can’t be anybody in the smoking-room, or I would hear them talking.”

It was easy to proceed without a sound by stepping softly along the thick rugs, and as Patty knew exactly where the cyclopÆdias were shelved, she made straight for that bookcase. It was next to the smoking-room doorway, and as Patty reached it, she peeped around the portiÈre to make sure that the next room was unoccupied.

But to her surprise, she saw Philip Van Reypen stretched out in a big arm-chair in front of the fire. His eyes were closed, but Patty saw he was not asleep, as he was slowly smoking a cigar. Patty saw him sidewise, and she stood for a second contemplating the handsome profile and the fine physique of the man, who looked especially graceful in his careless and unconscious position.

Almost holding her breath, lest he should hear her, Patty moved noiselessly to the shelves, being then out of sight behind a portiÈre.

By slow, careful movements, it was easy enough to move the books silently, and at last she discovered the blue envelope, tucked between two of them. She drew it out without a sound,—careful lest the paper should crackle,—and started to retrace her stealthy steps upstairs again, when she saw the hem of the portiÈre move the veriest trifle.

“A mouse!” she thought to herself, with a terrified spasm of fear, for Patty was foolishly afraid of mice.

Unable to control herself, she sprang up into a soft easy-chair and perched on the back of it.

The springs of the chair gave a tiny squeak, scarcely as loud as a mouse might make, yet sufficient to arouse Van Reypen from his reverie.

He sprang up, and pushing aside the portiÈre, switched on the light, to see Patty sitting on the low, tufted back of the chair, her hair streaming about her shoulders, and her face expressing the utmost fear and horror.

“Well!” he observed, looking at her with a smile,—“well!”

“Oh, Philip,” whispered Patty, in a quaking voice, “it’s a mouse! an awful mouse!”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” and Philip folded his arms, and stood gazing at the pretty, frightened figure on the chair back.

His amused calm quieted Patty’s nerves, which had really been put on edge by her uncontrollable aversion to mice, and she returned, cheerfully, “I suppose I shall have to stay up here the rest of my life, unless you can attack and vanquish the fearsome brute.”

“I shall not even try,” said Philip, coolly, as he turned to throw away his cigar, “because I like to see you sitting up there. However, as there may be danger of another attack from the enemy, and as this chair is almost entirely unoccupied, I shall camp out here at your feet, and keep guard over your safety.”

He seated himself on the arm of the same chair, while Patty sat on its low, cushioned back. She drew her blue gown more closely about her, and cast wary glances toward the corner, where the enemy was presumably encamped.

“I think perhaps the danger is over,” she said. “And if you’ll go back to the smoking-room, I will make a brave effort to get away unharmed.”

“Watch me go,” said Philip, showing no signs of moving. “However, if it will set your mind at rest, I’ll tell you that it wasn’t a mouse. I don’t believe they have such things in this well-regulated household.”

“But I saw it!” declared Patty, positively.

“Saw a mouse?”

“Well, not exactly that, but I saw that little tassel on the portiÈre wiggle, so it must have been a mouse.”

“Patty, you are the most ridiculous little goose on the face of this earth! Your imagination is something marvellous! Now I’ll inform you that the reason that tassel moved, was because I threw a match at it. I aimed for a waste-basket and hit the curtain, but I had no idea that I should find myself so surprised at the result!”

Patty dimpled and giggled. “It is surprising, isn’t it?” she said, feeling much more light-hearted since her fears were relieved regarding the mouse. “And I’m not sure it’s altogether correct, that you and I should be down here alone after midnight.”

“Fiddlestrings!” exclaimed Philip. “Don’t be a silly! And besides, Jim is about somewhere, and AdÈle has been bobbing in and out.”

“There was no one in the halls when I came down. And I think, Philip, I’d better go back.”

“What did you come down for, anyhow?”

For some unexplained reason, Patty suddenly felt unwilling to tell what she had come for. Bill’s letter was hidden in the folds of her voluminous blue gown, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell Philip that she came down for that.

“Oh, I was wakeful,” she said, “and I came down to get a—a book.”

“H’m; and you thought you’d take a volume of the Britannica back with you, to read yourself to sleep?”

Patty had to laugh at this, for in the corner where they were, the shelves contained nothing but cyclopÆdias and dictionaries.

“But they’re really very interesting reading,” she declared.

“And this is the little girl who was so sleepy she had to run off to bed as soon as the party was over! Patty, Patty, I’m afraid you’re not telling me the truth! Try again.”

“Well, then,—well, then, I came down because,—because I was hungry!”

“Ah, that’s better. Anybody has a right to be hungry, or even afraid of mice,—but no one has a right to lug a whole cyclopÆdia upstairs to read oneself to sleep.”

“I wasn’t going to take all the volumes,” said Patty, demurely, and then she jumped down from her perch. “I’ll just see which one I do want,” and pretending to read the labels, she deftly slipped her letter back between the volumes, unseen by Van Reypen.

“You little goose, you,” said Philip, laughing. “Stop your nonsense, and let’s go and forage in the dining-room for something to eat. We might as well have some good food while we’re about it.”

“But I’m not exactly in proper dinner garb,” said Patty, shaking out her blue folds, and trailing her long robe behind her.

“Nonsense! I don’t know much about millinery, but you never wore anything more becoming than all that fiddly-faddly conglomeration of blue silk and white fur.”

“It isn’t fur,—it’s down.”

“Well, I said you were a goose,—so it’s most appropriate.”

“But it’s swansdown.”

“Well, be a swan, then! Be anything you like. But come on, let’s make for the dining-room. We’ll probably find Jim there, but don’t make any noise, or everybody upstairs will think we’re burglars and shoot us.”

Philip switched off the library light, and taking Patty’s hand, led her through the dim hall and into the dining-room. At the end of this room was a wide bay window, which let in a perfect flood of moonlight.

“Oh,” exclaimed Patty, “what a picture! From my room you couldn’t tell it was moonlight at all.”

The picture from the window was a far sweep of hills, white with snow, and glistening in the moonlight. In the foreground, evergreen trees, laden with snow, stood about like sentinels,—and a big, yellow three-quarter moon was nearing the western horizon.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Philip?” whispered Patty, almost awed at the sight.

“Yes, dear,” he said, still holding her hand in both his own. “Patty, you have a wonderful appreciation of the beautiful.”

“Nobody could help loving such a sight as that.”

“And nobody could help loving such a girl as you!” exclaimed Philip, drawing her into his arms. “Patty, darling, you know I love you! Patty, do care for me a little bit, won’t you?”

“Don’t, Philip,” and Patty drew gently away from him. “Please don’t talk to me like that! Oh, I oughtn’t to be here! Let me go, Philip,—I know this isn’t right.”

“It is right, Patty, darling; because I love you, and I want you for all my own. Say you love me, and that will make everything all right!”

“But I don’t, Philip.” And Patty’s voice carried a hint of tears.

“But you will, dear; you must, because I love you so. Patty, I have always loved you, I think, since I first saw you on the stairs at Aunty Van’s that evening. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember; but please, Philip, let me go now, and don’t talk to me this way. I don’t want you to!”

“You’re frightened, Patty, that’s all; and perhaps I ought not to have spoken just now; but you looked so sweet, in the moonlight, with that wonderful hair of yours curling about your shoulders, that I just couldn’t help it.”

“I’ll forgive you, Philip, if you’ll forget this whole occurrence.”

“Forget it? Why, Patty, what do you mean? I never forget it for a single moment! I was sitting there to-night, dreaming of you. I wasn’t asleep, you know, I was just thinking about you, and wondering how soon I might tell you my thoughts. You’re so young, dear,—I’m half a dozen years older than you are,—but I want you, my little Patty. Mayn’t I hope?”

“You’re quite right, Philip. I am too young to think of such things. So cut it out for a couple of years, and then I’ll see about it!”

“Patty, you rogue, how can you speak like that? Don’t you love me a least little bit?”

“Not a teenty weenty speck! And if you don’t give me something to eat, I won’t even like you.”

“Well, here’s a bargain, then,—if I find something nice for you to eat, will you like me a whole lot?”

“I do like you a whole lot, anyway; but I don’t love you and I’m not going to love anybody, ever! I do think being grown-up is a regular nuisance, and I wish I was a little girl again, with my hair down my back!”

“Incidentally, your hair is down your back.”

“Well, I don’t care,” and Patty shook her curly mane. “I wear it that way in tableaux and things, so what’s the difference?”

“There isn’t any difference. We’ll pretend you’re a tableau.”

“All right, I’ll be Patience on a Monument, waiting for some supper.”

“That was Little Tommy Tucker.”

“No; he sang for his supper. I’m not going to sing.”

“For Heaven’s sake, don’t! Your top notes would bring the whole crowd down here! Patty, if you’ll promise to love me some time, I’ll stop teasing you now.”

“Oh, Philip, I’d do ’most anything to have you stop teasing me now! But how can I tell who I’m going to love when I get old enough to love anybody?”

“Well, you don’t love anybody yet, do you?”

“I do not!” and Patty shook her head with great emphasis.

“Then I have a fair show, anyway.” And Philip drew the curtain that shut out the moonlight, and switched on the electric light.

“Exit Romance!” he said, “and enter Comedy! Now, Patty, you’re my little playmate; we’re just two kiddies in the pantry, stealing jam,—that is, if we can find any jam.”

“The pantry’s the place,” said Patty; “there’s nothing in the sideboard but biscuit and raisins.”

“They don’t sound very good to me. To the pantry!”

Into the pantries they went, and there, in cupboards and iceboxes, found all sorts of good things.

Cold turkey, game pÂtÉ, jellies, custards, cakes, and all varieties of food.

“This is ever so much more fun than moonlight,” said Patty, as she perched herself on a table, there being no chair, and held a partridge wing in one hand and a macaroon in the other. “Could you find me a glass of milk, Philip?”

“Yes, indeed; anything you want, my Princess.”

“I thought you said Jim was about,” Patty remarked.

“He was,” returned Philip, calmly. “I saw him go upstairs as we came in the dining-room.”

“Did he see us?”

“Sure! He grinned at me and I grinned at him. I didn’t invite him to come with us,—so being a polite gentleman, he didn’t come. He doesn’t mind our eating up his food. He’s awful hospitable, Jim is.”

“Well, I’ve had enough of his food, and now I’m going back to my downy couch. If I don’t see you to-morrow before you leave,—good-bye, Philip.”

“That’s a nice, casual way to say good-bye to a man who has just proposed to you!”

“Good gracious! Was that a proposal?”

“Well, rather! What did you think it was? A sermon, or just a bit of oratory?”

“Do you know, Philip, truly I didn’t realise it at the time,” and Patty’s smile was very provoking, as she looked up into his face.

“Would your answer have been different if you had?” he asked, eagerly.

“Oh, no, not that! But I just want you to understand that I don’t consider it a real proposal,” and Patty laughed and ran away, leaving Philip to “clear up” the pantry.

She stopped a moment in the library, long enough to get her blue letter, and then scuttled up the stairs and into her own room.