After supper the whole party went to the large drawing-room to dance.

Kit Cameron made a bee-line for Patty. "You'll give me the first dance, won't you?" he said, simply, "because I've stayed away from you all supper time."

Patty hesitated. "I'm willing, Mr. Cameron," she said, "but for one thing. I'm awfully exacting in the matter of dancing, and if you're not a good dancer it would go far to spoil our pleasant acquaintance. Suppose we don't risk it."

Cameron considered. "I am a good dancer," he said, "but Marie has told me that you're something phenomenal in that line. So I daresay you will be disappointed in me. All right, suppose we don't risk it."

Cameron half turned away, as if he had relinquished the idea of dancing with Patty, and that young woman was somewhat taken aback. She had assumed her new friend would insist on dancing with her, and she had no mind to let him escape thus. She was just about to say, impulsively, "Oh well, let's try it, anyway," when she caught a gleam from the corner of his eye, and she realised in a flash that he felt sure she would call him back!

This was enough for capricious Patty, and she turned away from him, but not so quickly but that she saw his face suddenly fall, proving that she had been quite right in her diagnosis of the case.

She smiled on Van Reypen, who was hovering near, and he came to her at once.

"Our dance, Patty?" he said, eagerly, holding out his hand.

"Yes, Philip," she answered simply, laying her hand in his, and in a moment they were circling the room.

"Don't be cross to me, will you, Philip?" said Patty with an appealing note in her soft voice.

"No; you little torment, you. I'll never be cross to you, if you won't flirt with other men."

"Philip," and Patty spoke quite seriously, "I'll be cross with you, if you don't stop taking that attitude with me. It isn't for YOU to say whether I shall flirt with other men or not!"

"No, I know it;" and Philip was unexpectedly humble. "I wish it was for me to say, Patty."

"Stop talking nonsense, or I'll stop dancing with you! By the way,
Phil, you're an awfully good dancer."

"I'm glad there's something about me that pleases your ladyship."

"Yes; so am I. It certainly isn't your temper!"

And then Philip smiled into Patty's eyes, and peace was restored, as it always was after their little squabbles.

The dance over, they sat for a few moments, and then Kenneth Harper asked to be Patty's next partner.

"All right, Ken," said Patty; "but sit down here just a minute; I want to watch the others."

What Patty really wanted was to see Mr. Cameron dance; and in a few moments he went past them with Elise.

"That man's all round clever," commented Kenneth. "He dances just as he plays the violin, exquisitely. Why, Patty, he's a poem in patent leathers!"

Sure enough, Kit Cameron was an unusually fine dancer, and Patty felt a slow blush rising to her cheeks, as she remembered what she had said to him, and realised he must have thought her vain of her dancing.

For once, Patty felt honestly ashamed of herself. She had implied that she was such a fine dancer she didn't care to dance with any one unskilled in the art.

But after all, this was not quite Patty's attitude. When a stranger was introduced to her, she was quite willing to dance with him, whether he danced well or not. But as to Mr. Cameron, Patty liked him so much and so enjoyed his beautiful music, that she really felt it would be a shock to their friendship if he danced awkwardly.

And, too, she never for a moment supposed he would take her at her word. She had supposed he would insist upon the dance, even after her hesitation.

"What's the matter Patty?" said Kenneth; "you look as though you'd lost your last friend!"

"I'm not sure but I have," said Patty, smiling a little. For certainly Mr. Cameron was the last friend she had made, and it was very likely that she had lost him.

"Well, never mind, you still have me left. I'm gentle and I'm kind, and you'll never, never find a better friend than your old Ken."

"I believe you're right," and Patty smiled at him. "We've been friends a long time, haven't we, Ken?"

"We sure have. When I look at your gray hair and wrinkled cheeks, I realise that we are growing old together."

Patty laughed and dimpled at this nonsense, and then declared she was ready to dance.

All through the evening, Patty was gaily whisked from one partner to another, but Kit Cameron never came near her.

She was decidedly chagrined at this, even though she knew she had only herself to blame for it. She had been really rude, and she was reaping the well-deserved consequences.

Often she passed Cameron in the dance, as he whirled by with another girl. He always smiled pleasantly as they passed, and the fact that he was a magnificent dancer only made Patty feel more angry with herself at having been so silly.

Just before the last dance, Patty stood, gaily chatting with several of her friends, when the music struck up, and both Kenneth and Philip claimed the dance.

"You promised it to me, Patty," said Kenneth, reproachfully.

"Why, Ken Harper, I didn't do any such thing!" and Patty's big blue eyes gazed at him in honest surprise.

"Of course you didn't, you promised it to me," said Van Reypen, equally mendacious.

"Why, I didn't promise it to anybody!" declared Patty; "I haven't promised a dance ahead this whole evening."

As she stood, with the two insistent applicants on either side of her,
Cameron walked straight toward her. He said not a word, but held out
his arm, and calmly walking away from her two disappointed suitors,
Patty was at once whirled away.

"Well, Princess Poppycheek,—Princess Pink Poppycheek,—I had to surrender," Cameron said, as they floated around the room. "After your cruel aspersion on my dancing, I was so enraged I vowed to myself I'd never speak to you again. But I'm awful magnanimous, and I forgive you freely, from the bottom of my heart."

"I haven't asked to be forgiven," and Patty shot him a saucy glance; "but," she added, shyly, "I'm truly glad you do forgive me. I was a pig!"

"So you were. A Poppycheeked piggy-wig! But with me, what is forgiven is forgotten. And, by the way, you dance fairly well."

"So I've been told," returned Patty, demurely. "And I find I can get along with you."

This sounded like faint praise, but each knew that the other appreciated how well their steps suited each other and how skilful they both were.

Van Reypen and Ken Harper stood where Patty had left them, for a moment, as they watched their hoped-for partner dance away.

"There's no use getting mad at that child," said Ken, patiently; "she
WILL do as she likes."

"Well, after all, why shouldn't she? She's a reigning belle, and she's a law unto herself. But she has a lot of sense inside that golden curly head."

"Yes," returned Kenneth, "and not only sense, but a sound, sweet nature. Patty is growing up a coquette, but it is only because she is beset by flattery; and, too, she IS full of mischief. She can't help teasing her suitors, as she calls them."

"She can tease me all she likes," said Van Reypen, somewhat seriously, and Kenneth answered simply, "Me, too."

Next morning, Patty told Nan all about Mr. Cameron, and that gay little lady was greatly interested in the story.

"I knew he would be nice," said Nan, "from what you had already told me about him. Is he good-looking, Patty?"

"Yes,—no,—I don't know," returned Patty; "I don't believe I thought about it. He has an awfully nice face, and he's tall and big, and yet he's young-looking. At least, his eyes are. He has dark eyes, and they're just brimming over with mischief and fun, except when he's playing his violin."

"Then I suppose he has the regulation 'far away' look," commented Nan.

"Well, he doesn't look like a dying goat, if that's what you mean! but he looks like a real musician, and he is one."

"And a woman-hater, I believe?"

"Oh, it's rubbish to call him that! He's not crazy over girls, but it's because he thinks most of them are silly. He likes his two cousins,—and, Nan, don't breathe it, but I have a faint inkling of a suspicion of a premonition that he's going to like me!"

"Patty, you're a conceited little goose!"

"Nay, nay, my ducky stepmother, but I'd be a poor stick if I couldn't fascinate that youth after our romantic introduction."

"That's so; and I think you'll not have much trouble bringing him to your feet."

"Oh, I don't want him at my feet. And I don't want him to fall in love with me. I hate that sort of thing! I want him for a nice, chummy, comrade friend, and if I can't have him that way, I don't want him at all. There's Philip and Kenneth now; they've always been so nice. But lately they've taken to making sheep's eyes at me and flinging out bits of foolishness here and there that make me tired! A debutante's life is not a happy one!"

Patty drew such a long, deep sigh, that Nan burst into laughter.

"I would feel sorry for you, Patty," she said, "but I can't help thinking that you're quite able to look out for yourself."

"'Deed I am! When they talk mush, I just giggle at 'em. It brings 'em down pretty quick from their highfalutin nonsense!"

The two were sitting in Patty's boudoir, which was such a bright, sunny room that many a morning hour was pleasantly passed together there by these two friends. Patty was fortunate in having a stepmother so in sympathy with her pursuits and pleasures, and Nan was equally fortunate in having warm-hearted, sunny-natured Patty with her.

Jane came in, bringing an enormous box from a florist.

"My prophetic soul!" cried Patty. "My efforts were not in vain! I feel it in my funnybone that my latest Prince Charming has sent me a posy."

Nor was she wrong. The box contained a bewildering array of spring flowers. Delicate blossoms of jonquils, hyacinths, lilacs, daffodils, and other dainty, fragile flowers that breathed of spring.

"Aren't they lovely!" And Patty buried her face in the fragrant mass of bloom.

"Here's a card," said Nan, picking up a white envelope.

Patty drew out Mr. Cameron's card, and on it was written: "To Princess
Poppycheek; that they may tell all that I may not speak."

"Now that's a real nice sentiment," Patty declared; "you see, it doesn't commit him to anything, and yet it sounds pretty. Oh, I shall end by adoring that young man! Bring me some bowls and things, please, Jane; I want to arrange this flower garden myself."

Jane departed with the box and papers, and returned with a tray, on which were several bowls and vases filled with water.

Patty always enjoyed arranging flowers, and she massed them in the bowls, with taste and skill as to color and arrangement.

"There!" she said, as she finished her task; "they do look beautiful, though I say it as shouldn't. Now, I think I shall sit me down and write a sweet gushing note of thanks, while I'm in the notion. For I've a lot on to-day, and I can't devote much time to this particular suitor."

"Suitor is a slang word, Patty; you oughtn't to use it."

"Fiddle-dee-dee! if I didn't use any slang, I couldn't talk at all! And suitor isn't exactly slang; it's the word in current fashion for any pleasant young gentleman who sends flowers, or otherwise favors any pleasant young lady. Everybody in society knows what it means, so don't act old fogy,—Nancy Dancy."

Patty dropped a butterfly kiss on Nan's brow, and then pirouetted across the room to her writing desk.

"Shall I begin, 'My Dear Suitor'?" she said, and then giggled to see the shocked look on Nan's face.

"It wouldn't matter; he would understand," she said, carelessly, "but I think I can do better than that."

"Well, I'll leave you to yourself," said Nan; "not out of special consideration for your comfort, but because it doesn't interest me to watch anybody write letters."

"By-by," and Patty waved her hand, absentmindedly, as Nan left the room.

Then she applied herself to her task.

"Most Courteous Knight," she began; "The flowers are beautiful,—and they are saying lovely things to me. They say they are fresh and young and green. Oh, my goodness! I forgot that you said they were speaking for you! Well, then, they are saying that they are just the sort I like, and they are sure of a welcome. With many, many thanks, I am very sincerely yours, Patricia Poppycheek Fairfield."

And then Patty dismissed her Knight from her mind, and turned her attention to other matters. That afternoon about five o'clock, Mr. Cameron called.

"I scarcely hoped to find you at home," he said, as Patty greeted him in the drawing-room.

"It isn't our day," she returned, "but I chanced to be in, and I'm glad of it. Nan, may I present Mr. Cameron?" And Nan accorded a pleasant welcome to the visitor.

"You see, Mrs. Fairfield," Cameron said, "I rarely go into society and I fear my manners are a bit rusty. So if I have come to call too soon, please forgive me."

His smile was so frank and his manner so easily correct, that Nan approved of him at once. She was punctilious in such matters, and she saw, through Kit's pretence at rustiness, that he was not lacking in etiquette or courtesy.

"Let's have tea in the library," said Patty; "you see, Mr. Cameron, we always invite people we like to have tea in there, rather than in this formal place."

"That suits me; I want to be considered one of the family, and what's the use of wasting a whole lot of time getting up to that point? Let's make believe we've always known each other."

So tea was served in the library, and a very pleasant informal feast it was.

Mr. Fairfield came in, and soon the whole quartette were chatting gaily as if they had always known each other.

Mr. Cameron was especially interested in Patty's club called "Happy
Saturdays."

"It's the kindest thing I ever heard of," he said, enthusiastically. "It does good to people who can't be reached by any organised charity. I don't want to intrude, Miss Fairfield, and I don't want to exploit myself, but if you ever give your Saturday friends a little musicale or anything like that, I'd jolly well like to play for you. I'll play popular stuff, or I'll play my best Sunday-go-to-meeting pieces, whichever you prefer."

"That's awfully nice of you," said Patty, smiling at him. "I've often thought I'd get up something of that sort."

"We might have it here," said Nan, "unless you mean to invite more people than we could take care of."

"I'd like to have it here," said Patty; "the drawing-room would easily seat sixty or seventy in an audience,—perhaps more. And I don't believe we could find more than that to invite. Although I know of a girls' club that I'd like to invite as a whole."

"It's a pretty big thing you're getting up, Pattikins," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling kindly at his enthusiastic daughter, "but if you think you can swing it, go ahead. I'll help all I can."

"It would upset the house terribly," said Nan; "but I don't mind that.
I'm with you, Patty. Let's do it."

"If you're shy on the programme, I can get one or two fellows to help us out," said Cameron. "A chum of mine warbles a good baritone and I'm dead sure he'd like to help."

"I'm really a perfectly good singer," said Mr. Fairfield, "but my voice is not appreciated nowadays. So I'm going to decline all requests to sing, however insistent. But I'll help you out this way, Patsy-Poppet. I'll set up the supper for the whole crowd."

"Oh, daddy, how good you are!" and Patty leaned over to give her father's hand an affectionate squeeze. "It will be just lovely! We'll give those people a real musical treat, and a lovely supper to wind up with. Really, Mr. Cameron, you are to be thanked for all this, for you first suggested it. Our club has never done such a big thing before. I know the girls will be delighted!"

Unable to wait, Patty flew to the telephone and called up Mona, who was one of the most earnest workers of the club. As she had fore-seen, Mona was greatly pleased, and they immediately planned a meeting for the next morning to perfect the arrangements.

"And incidentally, and aside from giving a musical entertainment to your poor but worthy young friends, won't you go with me next week to enjoy some music yourself?" said Cameron to Patty, as he was about to take leave.

"Where?" she asked.

"I want to have a little opera party. Only half a dozen of us. The
Hepworths will be our chaperons, and if you will go, I'll ask my cousin
Marie and Mr. Harper."

"Why not Mr. Van Reypen?" said Patty, mischievously.

"Me deadly rival! never! nevaire! how could you cruelly suggest it?"

"I didn't mean it. Forget it," and Patty smiled at him.

"All right, it's forgotten, but don't EVER let such a thing occur again!"

And then Mr. Cameron reluctantly took himself off.