Once safely behind her locked door, Patty tore open her blue envelope. It was only a card,—but not an ordinary printed Christmas card.

In the upper corner was a spray of apple blossoms, exquisitely painted; and on the card were some verses, written in a hand that was small and fine, but unmistakably the same as the address on the outside of the envelope.

With a little sigh of pleasure, Patty cuddled up in her arm-chair to read the Christmas message.

But it proved to be not very Christmassy, after all; for this is what she read:

Patty read the verses over twice, with shining eyes.

“I wonder if he wrote them himself,” she mused. “I don’t believe he did; he must have copied them. He knows an awful lot of pretty poetry like that. And yet it doesn’t sound like a real poet’s poetry, either. And he used to call me Apple Blossom,—such a pretty name. Philip would never think of such a thing as that. I wonder if I like Little Billee better than I do Philip. I wonder if he likes me better. But of course he can’t, or he would have written to me in all this time. I haven’t seen him since August, and he never wrote a word, except the stiffest kind of a line with those flowers he sent me. I thought he’d forgotten all about me! But I can’t think so now,—unless he just came across this poem, and it recalled me to his mind. Well, I came awfully near not getting it! I don’t see how Daisy could have been so mean; I don’t like that kind of a joke a bit. But of course she thought it was just a printed card, like hers and Mona’s. Well, she’ll never know it isn’t,—that’s one thing sure!”

And then Patty tucked her card of verses under her pillow and went to sleep.

The next morning, as Patty had prophesied, she slept late. Daisy peeped into her room two or three times before she finally found Patty’s blue eyes open.

“At last!” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I thought you’d never wake up! Patty, what do you think? I’ve been down in the library, and I can’t find that card! I’m awfully sorry, truly I am; I’ll give you mine if you want it.”

“Thank you, Daisy,” and Patty smiled at the recollection of Mona’s similar offer. “Bill’s cards seem to be a drug in the market! But you may keep yours, and also set your mind at rest about mine; for I sneaked downstairs last night in the dark, and fished it out for myself.”

“You did! Oh, Patty, weren’t you frightened to prowl around like that, late at night?”

Patty shook with laughter. “I was frightened,” she said, “when I thought I saw a mouse,—but it wasn’t a mouse, after all.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be afraid of a mouse! But you might have met a,—a burglar or something?”

“No,” and Patty still grinned. “I didn’t meet any burglar. But I got the card, Daisy, so that’s all right.”

“Was it like mine? Let me see it.”

“It wasn’t exactly like yours, and I won’t let you see it. You kept it away from me, and now it’s my turn to keep it away from you. And by the way, Daisy, that was a mean thing to do, and I don’t want you to do anything like that to me again!” Patty’s sweet face showed an unusually stern expression, and her blue eyes looked straight into Daisy’s as she spoke.

“I won’t, Patty; truly, I won’t. I’m awfully sorry, but I did it on a sudden impulse.”

“I know it; and, Daisy, I want you to try not to give way to those ‘sudden impulses’ when they’re mean ones. You have enough good, generous impulses to keep you busy. Now, you mustn’t mind if your Aunt Patty lectures you a little bit, because as the teachers always say, ‘it’s for your own good.’ And if you’ll please take a chair, instead of sitting all over my feet, I’d like to have my breakfast; for I hear my pretty little Swedish Hedwig bringing it in.”

The smiling maid appeared with Patty’s breakfast tray, followed by Mona and AdÈle.

“Company already!” exclaimed Patty, sitting up in bed. “Hedwig, quick, my breakfast cap,—the pink one,—and the nightingale to match.”

The maid threw the silken wrap around Patty’s shoulders, and tucked her hair into the lace-frilled cap, which was of a Dutch shape, and made Patty look like the pictures of Holland’s pretty queen.

“You don’t seem hungry,” said Mona, as Patty toyed with her chocolate. “Now, I ate a most astonishing breakfast, because I forgot to eat my supper last night.”

“Well, you see,” returned Patty, dropping her lashes to hide her twinkling eyes, “I didn’t forget to eat my supper.”

The recollection of that supper in the pantry was too much for her, and she burst into laughter.

“What is the matter with you, Patty?” said AdÈle. “You’re acting like a harmless lunatic! However, I’m sent to tell you to hop up and get dressed, for one of your admirers below stairs wants you to go for a sleighride with him.”

“Jim?” asked Patty, looking up with a smile.

“No; Mr. Van Reypen.”

“Oh, good gracious! I don’t care about going riding with Philip; I can see him in New York. I hoped it was Hal,—that’s why I said Jim.”

“Patty,” said her hostess, “you’re a born coquette, and always will be! But your wiles are wasted on me. Save them for your suitors. But, truly, Mr. Van Reypen is going on an errand for me, and he said that he wanted to show you some little attention while he was here, and he guessed he’d let you go along with him in the cutter.”

“Oh, a cutter ride,” and Patty began to scramble out of bed. “That sounds rather good fun. But I’d rather go with Hal.”

“Well, you’re candid, at any rate,” said Daisy. “But as it happens, Hal and I are going to practise some music this morning.”

“Oh, in that case, I’ve nothing more to say.” And Patty smiled good-naturedly at Daisy. “And I suppose Mona and Roger are going somewhere to play by themselves.”

“Nothing of the sort,” said Mona. “Roger’s going back to the city this morning, and I’m going to write letters.”

“But I thought Philip was going back to the city,” said Patty, looking at AdÈle.

“He’s going on the afternoon train. Go on and get dressed, Patty, and don’t waste any more time.”

“All right,” and Patty made an expeditious toilette and in little more than half an hour went downstairs equipped for her ride.

She was enveloped from head to foot in a raccoon fur coat, with a jaunty hat of the same, trimmed only with a bright quill feather.

“Why do we go?” she demanded, presenting herself before Philip, who was waiting in the hall.

“To get butter and eggs,” he returned, gravely. “The Kenerley larder is entirely empty of those two very necessary ingredients.”

“But why do we go for them? Are there no servants to send?”

“Little girls shouldn’t ask questions,” and without further ceremony Philip tucked her into the waiting sleigh, sprang in beside her, and took up the lines.

“My, this is great!” exclaimed Patty, as the pair of fine horses went dashing down the drive, and the clear, keen winter air blew against her face.

“Yes; I thought the sleighride would brace you up. And, really, there seemed to be nobody to send on this errand, so I said we’d go.”

“Is it far?”

“No; only about five miles; we’ll be back for luncheon. How did you sleep, after your late supper?”

“All right,” and Patty smiled back into Philip’s face. “But I wasn’t hungry for my breakfast.”

“I should say not! You ate enough last night for two little girls like you!”

“There aren’t two little girls like me!” said Patty, with twinkling eyes, and Philip exclaimed: “Indeed, there aren’t! I say, Patty, my Princess Patty, do be engaged to me, won’t you?”

“No, you ridiculous boy, I won’t! And if you say another word on the subject, I’ll be real downright mad at you!”

“Very well, I won’t. Now, see here, Princess, do you mean to go to this masquerade ball with me? For, if not, I’m not coming back here for New Year’s.”

“Why, of course, I’m going with you. Who else?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure. But there would be plenty glad to take you.”

“Pooh! I know that. But I want to go with you. What shall we wear?”

“I was thinking of some foolish thing, like Little Bo-Peep, you know.”

“Oh, I’d love to be that! A shepherdess costume, and a crook with ribbons on. But I want you to wear a satin coat and knee-breeches.”

“Well, I’ll be Old King Cole.”

“No, I don’t like that. I’ll tell you! You be Little Boy Blue.”

“The Gainsborough picture?”

“No, that won’t do either. Oh, you be Bobby Shafto! He wears ‘silver buckles on his knee,’ don’t you know?”

“Yes, I do know! And what’s the next line?”

“Never mind,” said Patty, turning pink. “I want you to wear a real Bobby Shafto costume. So you will, won’t you?”

“Of course, if my Princess commands. I’ll have it made at once. Can I help about yours?”

“Well, you might go to see Nan, and tell her what I want, and she’ll get it and send it up here. A shepherdess rig is easy enough, and there’s nothing prettier.”

“It will be lovely. I say, which way do we turn here?”

“To go to Hatton’s Corners? Oh, to the right.”

“I think it’s the left.”

“No, it isn’t. I remember distinctly, Jim said, be sure to take the right road.”

“He meant right, not wrong.”

“Nonsense! he didn’t. He meant right, not left. Turn right, Philip.”

They turned right, into a wide, straight road. The sleighing was fine, though not yet sufficiently packed. But, with the light cutter, and two good horses, they spun along in great shape.

“There’s something about sleighing that’s different from anything else,” remarked Patty, with the air of one expounding a great truth.

“It’s the exhilaration. Spinning along like this, with the snow crunching under us, beats motoring, I think.”

“Yes; for an occasional ride. But for all the year round, motoring is best.”

“That’s so. Sleighing isn’t much fun in July or August.”

“Huh! don’t be silly. But, I say, Philip, where are we? Jim said we’d pass Little Falls, and then we must follow the trolley line all the way to the butter and egg house. I don’t see any trolley.”

“Neither do I, yet. But we’ll soon strike it. Ah, here we are!”

“No; this is a railroad,—a steam railroad, I mean. Philip, we’re off the road.”

“I think we are. I’m sorry I insisted on turning to the right at that corner.”

“You didn’t insist. I did! But I thought it was right.”

“It is right, dear. Anything is right, where you are.”

“You’d better stop talking foolishness, and find the right road.”

“Oh, if you call that foolishness!”

“Well, I do! I’d rather you’d get to the egg house and back before it begins to storm. And by the looks of the sky, I’m sure it is going to storm.”

“Oh, no! nothing like that. But I say! Princess! it’s after one o’clock! Now, who would have thought it? And they expect us back to luncheon!”

“After one! Oh, Philip, it can’t be!”

“Yes, it is! Well, Patty Pink, the best thing to do, I think, is to go to that house I see in the dim distance, and ask our way. The last two or three signposts have shown names I never heard of.”

“I either,” said Patty, in a meek voice. “I noticed them, but I didn’t say anything, because it’s my fault we went astray.”

“Well, never mind. We’re in for a lark, that’s all. ‘Afar in the desert I love to ride’—what comes next, Patty?”

“‘With the silent Bushboy alone by my side——’”

“Yes, that’s it; but thank goodness, you’re not silent——”

“Nor a Bushboy, either. But I don’t like this, Philip. We’re——”

“We’re far frae our hame, and all that. But don’t you worry, my Princess. You’re with me, and so you’re not lost. You know, it’s better to be loved than lost.”

“Now, Philip, stop talking about love! It’s bad enough to be lost,—and we are lost,—without having somebody harping about love all the time.”

“Well, this isn’t much of a time or place, is it? So, suppose we invade this peaceful dwelling, and inquire our latitude and longitude.”

They drove up a winding road to a large, old-fashioned house, and Philip jumped out at the front door.

His summons on the big, brass knocker was answered by a prim little lady, with grey hair and bright, dark eyes.

“Pardon me, madame,” said Philip, in his best manner. “We have lost our way. Will you tell me how to reach Hatton’s Corners?”

“Hatton’s Corners! Why, that’s a good ten miles from here. Where’d you come from?”

“From Fern Falls.”

“Then you took the wrong road at the Big Tree Fork. You’d oughter ‘a’ gone to the left.”

“H’m; you may be right. But must we go back there, or is there a shorter cut?”

“No; there ain’t no shorter cut. But your young lady looks cold. Won’t you two come in and take a bite o’ dinner, and get warm before you go on?”

“Why, this is true hospitality, madame. What do you say, Patty?”

Patty looked uncertain. “I don’t know what to say,” she replied, hesitatingly. “I am cold; but I’m afraid it would delay us so long that AdÈle will worry about us. I think we’d better jog along.”

But then another old lady appeared. She was rounder, rosier, plumper, and jollier than the first, and she cried out, heartily: “Jog along? Well, I reckon not! I jest waited to slip into my shoes,—my feet’s awful tender,—and then I come right out here to see what’s goin’ on. Now, you two young folks come right in, and set a spell. ’Tain’t often we get a chance to have comp’ny,—and on chicken pie day, too!”

“Whew, chicken pie!” exclaimed Philip. “How about it, Patty?”

“Have you a telephone?” asked Patty, with a sudden inspiration.

“Yes, miss. Now you jest come along. ’Kiah, the hired man, he’ll look after your horses, and I’m free to confess they need a rest and a feed, even if you don’t.”

“That’s so,” said Philip. “We must have come twelve or fifteen miles.”

“It’s all o’ that from Fern Falls. My, I’m right down glad to look after you two. You do seem to need it.”

The speaker’s twinkling dark eyes looked at her two visitors with such comprehension that Patty blushed and Philip smiled.

“We’re from Mr. Kenerley’s house,” he explained,—“guests there, you know. And we started for Hatton’s Corners to get some butter and eggs—and somehow, we took the wrong turn——”

“It was all my fault,” confessed Patty. “I insisted on coming this way, though Mr. Van Reypen thought the other was right.”

“Well, well, never mind! It’ll jest be a nice, smart trip back after dinner. I’m Mrs. Fay, and this is my sister, Miss Wilhelmina Winthrop. She’s got a longer name than I have, but I’ve got a longer head.”

They were ushered into the old-fashioned sitting-room, with its Brussels carpet showing huge baskets of flowers; its heterogeneous furniture, some chairs haircloth and black walnut, and others cane-seated, with rep cushions tied on; marble tables, of course; and an old sofa, with well-worn pillows and rugs.

But the place had a hospitable air, and the two hostesses were fairly beaming with delight at this opportunity for entertainment. Miss Winthrop carried Patty off to her own bedroom.

“You’re jest all tuckered out, I can see,” she said, hovering around her like a clucking hen; “but a wash-up and a good dish o’ chicken pie will put you all to rights again.”

“But I must telephone before we eat dinner,” said Patty.

“So you shall,—so you shall. Now, don’t you worry the leastest mite about anything.”

“How kind you are!” exclaimed Patty, smiling on the happy little old lady. “I suppose you belong to the real old New England Winthrops?”

“Yes, and we’re mighty proud of our name. I was so much so that I never would change it,”—and she chuckled. “Sister, though, she thought Fay was prettier.”

“Fay is pretty,” said Patty, cordially, “and now, if I may, I’ll telephone, for I know our people will be wondering where we are.”

“All right, Miss Fairfield; come right along.” But in returning to the sitting-room, Patty found Philip was already at the telephone.

“Yep,” he was saying, “lost our way; took wrong turning at Big Tree Fork. Brought up, somehow, at Mrs. Fay’s. Accepted invitation to dinner,—chicken pie!—Start back immediately after the E in Pie! See? Expect us when we get there. Will accumulate a butter and a egg or two, on our way home. Love to all. Philip.” He concluded his harangue, and turned to Patty.

“All serene on the Potomac, Patty Pink! I told them all it was necessary for them to know; and if they desire further information, they can call us up. They know where we are. Me for the chicken pie!”