"You're the most wonderful girl in the world!" exclaimed Cameron, in a burst of admiration at Patty's speech.

But Kenneth looked steadily at Patty, with a thoughtful gaze.

"You're keyed up," he said to her, gently; "and if you take it like that, you'll collapse."

"Like what?" Patty snapped out the words, for her nerves were strung to a high tension.

"Doing the hysterical histrionic act," and Kenneth smiled at the excited girl, not reprovingly, but with gentle sympathy. "Now take it standing, Patty,—face it squarely,—and you'll be all right. We're housed up here,—for how long, Cameron?"

"I—I don't know," said Kit, looking desperate.

"That only means you won't tell," declared his cousin. "Own up, Kit, how long did the doctor say?"

"Three or four weeks."

"Oh!" Patty merely breathed the word, but it sounded like a wail of despair. Then she caught Kenneth's eye, and his glance of steadfast courage nerved her anew.

"It's all right," she said, almost succeeding in keeping a quiver out of her voice. "We can have a real good time. People can send us all sorts of things, and,—I suppose we can't write letters,—but we can telephone. Oh, that reminds me; may I telephone Mr. Van Reypen at once, that I can't"—Patty blinked her eyes, and swallowed hard—"that I can't be at my—at his party this evening?"

Mr. Cameron looked a picture of abject grief.

"Miss Fairfield," he began, "if I could only tell you how sorry I am—"

"Please don't," said Patty, kindly; "I've accepted the situation now, and you won't hear a single wail of woe from me. Pooh! what's a theatre party more or less among me! And a few weeks' rest will do us all good. We'll pretend we're at a rest cure or sanitarium, and go to bed early, and get up late, and all that."

"Oh, of course we must all telephone to our homes," said Marie; "and I must say, I think girls are selfish creatures! We've never given a thought to Mr. Harper's business!"

"Don't give it a thought," said Kenneth, lightly. "I've given it one or two already, and I may give it another. That's enough for any old business."

"That sounds well, Ken," said Patty, "but I know it's going to make you a terrific lot of trouble. And Mr. Cameron, too! A civil engineer—"

"Can't be uncivil, even in a case like this," put in Kit; "or I'd say what I really feel about the whole business! It would be worse, of course, if one of our own people were ill; but to be tied up like this because of a servant is, to say the least, exasperating."

"Babette's a nice little thing, and I'm awfully sorry for her," said
Patty.

"So am I," said Marie; "but I'm like Kit. I think it's awful for half a dozen of us to be held here, like this, because a maid is ill!"

"But, Marie, what's the use of even thinking about it?" said Patty; "we can't help ourselves, we're obliged to stay here, so for goodness' sake, let's make the best of it. I shall send home for my pink chiffon,—that's always a great comfort to me in time of trouble."

"Send for one for me," said Cameron, "if they're so comforting in trouble."

"I've only one," returned Patty, "but you can share the benefit of its comforting qualities. Now we'll have to take turns at the telephone. Suppose I take it first, and break the news to Mr. Van Reypen, for he'll have to invite somebody in my place."

"You're sure it's positive?" said Kenneth to Cameron; "you're sure there's no hope of a reprieve or a mistaken diagnosis?"

"No," said Kit, positively; "I made sure, before I told you at all."

"Of course you did," said Patty, trying to be cheerful. "I know you wouldn't have told us, until you were sure you had to. Now I'll telephone to Phil, and then to my home, and then, Marie, you can tell your people, and after that we'll let the men fix up their business affairs. What a comfort it is that we can telephone, for I don't suppose we'll be allowed to write letters, unless we fumigate them, and I won't inflict my friends with those horrid odours."

The telephone was in the library, and as Patty crossed the hall, she met Mrs. Perry coming toward her.

Mrs. Perry had her handkerchief to her eyes, and Patty went straight to her and put her arms around her.

"Dear Mrs. Perry," she said, "I am SO sorry for you! To have Babette's illness, and then to have the burden of four guests at the same time! But, truly, we'll make just as little trouble as we can, and I hope you'll let us help in any way possible."

"Oh, Patty," Lora Perry said, in a choked voice, "I feel dreadful about making you stay here in these circumstances! Just think of all your engagements,—and all the fun you'll miss. It's perfectly awful!"

"Now don't think of those things at all. Just remember that your four guests are not complaining a bit. We know you're sorry for us and you know we're sorry for you, and we're all sorry for poor Babette. Now that part's settled, and we're all going to make the best of it. You don't go into Babette's room, do you?"

"Oh, no; I couldn't go near the baby, if I did. And the patient has a trained nurse, you know. Honestly, Patty,—you don't mind my calling you Patty, do you?"

"No, indeed, I like to have you."

"Well, I was going to say, I don't really think there's a bit of danger of infection for any of us. But, of course, you know what a doctor's orders are, and how they must be obeyed."

"Of course I know; now don't you think for a moment of any petty little disappointments we girls may have. Why, they're nothing compared to your trouble and Mr. Perry's, and the boys'."

Patty telephoned Philip Van Reypen, and that young man was simply aghast.

"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that you people are to be held up there for weeks? It's preposterous! It's criminal!"

"Don't talk like that, Philip. We can't help it. The Perrys can't help it. And it isn't a national catastrophe. Honestly, a few weeks' rest will do me good."

"Yes! With that Cameron man dangling at your heels!"

"Well, Philip, if I have to stay here, you ought to be glad I have some one here to amuse me."

"I'm not! I'd rather you were there alone! Patty, I won't stand it! I'm coming up myself, to dig you out!"

"Don't talk foolishness! If you come up here, you'll have to stay! They don't let any one leave the house."

"All right, then, I'll stay! That wouldn't be half bad."

"Philip, behave yourself! Mrs. Perry has all the company she can take care of."

"I'll help her take care of her company. One of 'em, anyway!"

"I won't talk to you, if you're so silly. Now listen. You go ahead with your party to-night, and ask some other pretty girl to take my place."

"Take your place!" Philip's growl of disgust nearly broke the telephone.

"Yes," went on Patty, severely, "to take my place. And then, when we get let out, you could have another party for me. Don't you see, it will be a sort of celebration of my release from captivity."

"I tell you I won't stand it! I'll have the confounded party to-night,—because I'll HAVE to, but to-morrow I'm coming straight, bang, up to Eastchester!"

"Come if you like, but you won't be admitted to this house. And I think you're acting horrid, Philip. Instead of being sorry for me, you just scold."

"I'm not scolding YOU, Patty, but I won't have you shut up there with that Cameron!"

"And Kenneth."

"Harper's all right, but that Cameron boy is too fresh,—and I don't want you to encourage him."

"All right, Philip, I won't encourage him. Good-bye." Patty spoke in her sweetest tones, and hung up the receiver suddenly, leaving Mr. Van Reypen in a state of mind bordering on frenzy.

Then Patty called up Nan, and explained the whole situation to her.

"How awful!" said Nan, in deepest sympathy, "both for Mrs. Perry and for you."

"Yes, it is; but of course there's nothing to do but make the best of it. Ken is splendid. If it weren't for his strength and courage I don't know how I'd bear it. But he won't let me give way. So I'm going to be a heroine and all that sort of thing, a real little Casablanca. Honestly, Nan, I feel ashamed of myself to think of my little bothers,—when the boys have their business matters to consider, and Mrs. Perry is in such deep trouble. So I'm going to do my best to be cheerful and pleasant. They say we may be here two or three weeks or more."

"Good gracious, Patty!"

"Yes, I know,—it's all of that! Now, Nan, I mustn't keep this telephone, for they all want to use it. But I'll call you up to-night or to-morrow, for a longer talk. I wish you'd send me up some clothes. Pack a suitcase or a steamer trunk with some little house-dresses and tea-gowns and lingerie, and send it along to-morrow. Then I'll tell you later what else I want. Tell father all about it, and ask him to call me up this evening. Good-bye for now."

Patty hung up the receiver, and Marie took her turn next.

"How did your people take it?" asked Cameron, as Patty came slowly back to the hall fireside, where they had all been sitting when the dreadful news was told.

"I told my mother," said Patty, "but I didn't give her a chance to say much. She was appalled, of course, at the whole business, but she's going to send me some clothes, and get along without me for a few weeks,—although I can't help feeling 'they will miss me at home, they will miss me.'"

Patty sang the line in a high falsetto that made them all laugh.

"Mother's about crazy!" announced Marie, as she came back from telephoning. "Not that she minds my staying here, but she's sure I'll have the diphtheria!"

"No, you won't, Marie," said Kit, earnestly. "I asked the doctor particularly, and he said there wasn't the least danger that any of us would develop the disease."

"Then why do we have to stay here?" asked Marie.

"Because the house is quarantined. By order of the Board of Health. You may as well make up your mind to it, cousin, and take it philosophically, as Miss Fairfield does."

Kenneth telephoned to his office, and then Kit shut himself up in the library and telephoned for a long time.

When he returned, he said, with an evident effort at cheerfulness, "Now let's pretend that we're not kept here against our will, but that this is a jolly house party. If we were here for a month, on invitation, we'd expect to have a bang-up time."

"But this is so different," said Patty, dolefully. "A house party would mean all kinds of gaiety and fun. But it doesn't seem right to be gay, when Babette is dangerously ill."

"But she isn't dangerously ill," said Kit, earnestly. "It may prove a very light case. But you see the quarantine laws are just as strict for a very light case as for a desperate one. Now, I propose that we try to forget Babette for the present, and go in for a good time."

"But we can't do anything," said Marie; "we can't go to places or have any company, or see anybody or write any letters—"

"There, there, little girl," said her cousin, "don't make matters worse by complaining. Here are four most attractive young people, in a perfectly lovely house, with all the comforts of home; and if we don't have a good time, it's our own fault. What shall we do this afternoon?"

"Let's play bridge," said Patty; "that's quiet, and I don't feel like anything rackety-packety."

"Bridge is good enough for me," said Kenneth, manfully striving to shake off the gloom he felt. He was really very much concerned about some important business matters, but he said nothing of this to any one.

They sat down at the bridge table, but the game dragged. No one seemed interested, and they dealt the cards in silence.

Cameron tried to keep up a lively flow of conversation, and the others tried to respond to his efforts. But though they succeeded fairly well, after the third rubber, Patty declared she could not play any longer, and she was going to her room for a nap.

"Come on," said Marie, jumping up, "I'll go with you."

"Yes, do, girlies," said Cameron, kindly. "A little nap will do you good. Come down for tea, won't you?"

"I don't know," said Patty, doubtfully; "I think we'll have tea in our rooms, and not come down till dinner time."

"As you like," returned Kit; "if we four have to live together for weeks, it won't do to see TOO much of each other!"

"Then perhaps we won't come down to dinner, either," said Patty, with a momentary flash of her roguish nature.

"Oh, you MUST!" exclaimed Kenneth, who couldn't help taking things seriously. "You two girls are the only bright spots in this whole business!"

"Thank you," and Patty smiled at him, as she and Marie went away.

"Come into my room," said Patty, "and let's talk this thing over."

Soon the two girls, in kimonos, were sitting either side of the cheerful wood fire, discussing the outlook.

"It's worse for you than for me, Patty," said Marie, "for you have more social engagements, and all that sort of thing, than I do. And besides, these are my relatives. But for you, almost a stranger, to be held up here like this, it's just awful! I can't tell you how bad I feel about it."

"Now, Marie, let up on that sort of talk! It's no more your fault than it is mine, and the fact of the Perrys being your relatives doesn't make a scrap of difference. To be honest, the thing nearly floored me at first, for I never had anything like this happen to me before. But that's all the more reason why I should brace up to this first occasion,—and from now on, you won't hear another peep of discontent out of ME. If we have to stay here four weeks or eight weeks or twelve weeks, I'm going to behave myself like a desirable citizen. And I'm only sorry that I've acted horrid so far."

"You haven't acted horrid, Patty."

"Yes, I have; when we played bridge I sat around like an old wet blanket. Now I'll tell you what, Marie, let's plan something nice for this evening. Something that will cheer up Mrs. Perry, and incidentally ourselves. But isn't it strange how we can't make it seem like a house party? Really, you know, it IS one, and Babette isn't sick enough,—at least, not yet,—for us to be gloomy and mournful. And yet, for the life of me, I can't feel gay and festive. But I'm going to MAKE myself feel so, if it takes all summer! We've two awfully nice boys to entertain us, and you and I are good congenial chums. Mrs. Perry is a dear and the baby is an awful comfort. Now why, Marie, WHY can't we act just as if there wasn't any Babette? I mean, of course, unless she gets very much worse."

"It isn't our concern for Babette that makes the trouble," said Marie, slowly; "it's our disappointment at our own inconvenience, and being kept here against our will."

"You clever little thing! You've put your finger right on the truth. You're right! Our anxiety for Babette is real enough as far as it goes, but it's secondary. The primary cause of our gloom IS pure selfishness! and the amazing part is, that I never realised it until you showed me! Now I have always thought that the sin I abhorred most was selfishness, and here I am giving way to it at the first opportunity. Well, it's got to stop! Now, then, let's plan something real nice and pleasant for this evening, and have a good time."

"I don't think anything would be nicer than music," said Marie. "Lora has a violin, and Kit and I will play, and you can sing—"

"And we'll all sing choruses and things,—real jolly ones, and enter into it with some spirit."

"Yes; Lora loves to have people sing, and she'll enjoy that."

"And then other nights," Patty went on, bravely, "we'll get up some entertainment. Tableaux, you know, or theatricals."

"Yes, and we can play games and things. Now shall we go down to tea?"

"No," and Patty wagged her head, sagely; "it's perfectly true that we mustn't give those boys too much of our delightful society or they won't appreciate it! Let them wait for us till dinner time. We'll have our tea up here, and perhaps Mrs. Perry will be with us. Let the boys shift for themselves till dinner time, and then they'll be all the more glad to see us."

Nora brought the tea tray up to the girls, and with it a note.

"I thought they'd holler for us," said Patty, laughing as she read the note; "listen to this: 'Twin stars of light and joy, DO come down and illumine our dark and lonesome tea-table! We pine and languish without you! Oh, come QUICK, ere we fade away! Kit and Ken.' I thought they'd be lonesome," and Patty nodded her head, with a satisfied air. "Now you know, Marie, if we've got to take care of these boys for weeks, we must make them walk a chalk line."

"Yes, of course, Patty; shall we go down, or send a note?"

"Neither," returned Patty, with a toss of her head. "Nora, please say to the young gentlemen that the young ladies will be down at dinner time."

"Yes, Miss Fairfield," said Nora, departing.

A few moments later they heard the wailing strains of a violin, and listening at their door, heard Kit playing, with exaggerated effect. "Come into the Garden, Maud."