Patty stood in the butler's pantry when the guests entered the dining-room for dinner.

She was determined to do her part perfectly, for she knew quite well how everything should be done, and she entered into the spirit of it as if it were a play.

There were eight at the table, and as Patty tripped in to serve the soup she caught the approving glance of Mr. Bob Peyton. She quickly dropped her eyes and proceeded with her duties quietly and correctly. But as she set down the third soup plate, she chanced to look across the table, and met the calm, straightforward gaze of Bill Farnsworth!

She didn't drop the soup-plate or make any awkward movement. Patty was not that sort. She looked down quickly, though it was with difficulty that she prevented the corners of her mouth from breaking into a smile. Immediately she suspected the whole truth. Farnsworth was a guest at this house,—of course he had sent Bob Peyton to her rescue! Or, hadn't he? Could it have been possible that Mr. Peyton found her unexpectedly? She didn't think so. She believed that Little Billee had sent Peyton to her aid, because she had refused his assistance. Of course, Bill had not foreseen the waitress joke, and doubtless he was as much surprised to see her now as she was to see him. Unless Mr. Peyton had told all the guests that he had found a waitress along the road in a stalled motor-car!

Well, at any rate, Patty determined to go on with the farce to the best of her ability. If Farnsworth thought he could rattle her, he was very much mistaken. But she would not look at him again. If he should smile at her, she knew she should smile, for she was on the verge of laughing anyway. So the dinner proceeded. Patty did her part beautifully, serving everything just exactly right and doing everything just as it should be done. And not once during the long dinner, did she catch the eye of either Farnsworth or Mr. Peyton. Once or twice she looked at Mrs. Brewster with a note of inquiry in her eyes, and that lady gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval, so that Patty knew everything was going all right.

At last it was time for Patty to bring in the finger bowls. They stood neatly ranged in readiness for her, and in each one was a pansy blossom.

On the table near the doorway through which Patty went in and out of the dining-room, chanced to be a big bowl of apple blossoms, and Patty appropriated one of these and substituted it for the pansy in the finger bowl which she subsequently placed before Farnsworth.

She did not glance at him, but she had the satisfaction of seeing him start with surprise, and then let his glance travel around the table as if assuring himself that he was the only one thus honoured.

He tried to catch Patty's eye, but she resolutely refrained from looking at him.

After dinner was over, and the guests returned to the drawing-room,
Patty remained in the dining-room, wondering what would happen next.

In a few moments Mrs. Brewster came running out to her.

"You little brick!" she cried; "but, my DEAR child, what MADE you do it?"

"What do you mean, madame?" asked Patty, in her most waitress-like voice.

"What do I mean? You rogue! You scamp! Mr. Farnsworth has told us all about it! I don't know what you mean by this masquerade. But it's over now, and you must come into the drawing-room at once! Take off that apron and cap, and put on your collar and bow again."

"Oh, Mrs. Brewster, I can't go into the drawing-room. All your guests have on their evening things, and this is a morning frock!"

"Nonsense, child, come right along in. You look as sweet as a peach."

"But I say, Ethel," and Bob Peyton bounced out into the dining-room, "Miss Fairfield hasn't had any dinner, herself," and he smiled at Patty. "You see I know all about you. Farnsworth told the whole story. You are miffed with him, I believe, and wouldn't let him help you. So he came right over here and sent me back to help a fair lady in distress. Why you got up that waitress jargon I don't know."

"I don't either," and Patty dimpled roguishly at him. "I have an awful way of cutting up any jinks that happen to pop into my head! You'll forgive me, won't you?"

"I never should have forgiven you if you HADN'T!" and Peyton smiled admiringly into the big blue eyes that implored his forgiveness so sweetly.

"You DEAR child," Mrs. Brewster rattled on, "to think you haven't had a mite of dinner! Now I will get you something."

"No, no, thank you," laughed Patty, "I will confess that I ate all I wanted here in the pantry while the dinner was going on. Cook sent up special portions for me, and I had plenty of time to do justice to them."

"I'm glad of that," said Mrs. Brewster, cordially, "and now, Miss Fairfield, come into the drawing-room. I want my guests to know what a little heroine it is who waited on us at dinner. What a girl you are! I've often heard Adele Kenerley speak of you, and I'm so glad to know you. You must come and make me a visit, won't you, to prove that you forgive me for letting you wait on my table?"

"The pleasure was mine," returned Patty, dropping a pretty curtsy. Then they all went to the drawing-room, where Patty was praised and applauded till she blushed with confusion.

Farnsworth stood leaning against the mantel as she entered the room. He waited till the introductions were over and until the hubbub roused by Patty's story had subsided. Then, as she stood beside her hostess, he went over to her, and said, "What is your greeting for me, Miss Fairfield?"

"I gave you my greeting at the table," said Patty, and she flashed a glance at him from beneath her long lashes.

"WAS it a greeting?"

But before Patty could answer, Mrs. Brewster came to her and said in her enthusiastic way, "Oh, Miss Fairfield, I've been telephoning Mrs. Kenerley and telling her all about it! And what DO you think? She says that she and Jim are the only ones over there who know where you are, and they're pretending they don't know, and all the young people are crazy with anxiety!"

"I suppose I ought to go right home," said Patty, "and relieve their anxiety. But I'd like to stay a little while longer. And, yet, I don't want them to know where I've been, until I get there, and tell them myself."

"Let them wait," said Bob Peyton. "It won't hurt them to worry a little. Now, Miss Fairfield, we're going to have some music, and perhaps,—as you're such an angel of goodness to us anyway,—perhaps you'll sing for us."

They all sang in chorus, and some sang solos, and after awhile it was
Patty's turn.

She had none of her elaborate music with her, so she told Mrs. Brewster she would sing any songs or ballads that she might happen to have.

They found a book of old songs, which Mr. Brewster declared were his favourites, and Patty sang two or three of those.

Among them was the old Scotch song of "Loch Lomond." Patty had never seen this, but as Mr. Brewster was fond of it he urged her to try it. The song was not difficult and Patty read easily, so she made a success of it. As she came to the lines, "I'll take the high road and you take the low road," she glanced at Farnsworth, with a half-smile.

He did not return the smile, but looked at her steadily and with a slightly puzzled expression.

When the song was over, Farnsworth crossed the room and stood by
Patty's side.

"Why do you want to take the high road, if I take the low road?" he asked her, abruptly. He took no pains to lower his tones, and Bob Peyton who stood near heard what he said.

"Because I'm taking the low road, and Miss Fairfield will ride with me, though she won't with you."

Peyton's manner was so light and his smile so gay, that Patty answered in the same key, ignoring Farnsworth's serious face.

"I like to take the road with Mr. Peyton," she answered gaily, "because it leads to such pleasant places," and she smiled at Mrs. Brewster.

"You dear child! You are perfectly fascinating," Mrs. Brewster declared.

"There, there, Ethel, you mustn't tell Miss Fairfield what we all think about her," Peyton interrupted.

And then Patty was called to the telephone.

"You must come home, Patty," Adele's voice said.

"All right, I will, Adele," Patty replied; "but tell me this, does Kit think I'm lost, or anything?"

"No, Patty, he doesn't; but all the rest do. Kit pretends he thinks something has happened to you, but he told me privately that he knew perfectly well that you were all right, and that Jim and I know where you are! Oh, you can't fool HIM. But Mr. Van Reypen is nearly crazy. He says he doesn't think anything dreadful has happened to you, but he thinks you've had a breakdown and can't get home, and he insists on starting out to look for you. If you don't come right away, Patty dear, I can't keep him here much longer!"

"All right, Adele, I'll start at once; truly, I will! Don't send for me. Somebody here will take me over. You know your little runabout is here. I'll come home in that."

"Don't drive it yourself."

"Of course not. Somebody will drive me. I'll be over in fifteen minutes. Good-bye."

Patty hung up the receiver and returned to the drawing-room.

"I must go right straight away," she said, smiling at her hostess. "My joke worked a little too well, and unless I appear they're going to send out a search party after me! I told Adele her little car was here. How did it get here, Mr. Peyton?"

"I went after it and brought it here; instead of taking it to Mrs.
Hammersmith's or whatever her name was!"

"You mean Mrs. Hemingway," said Patty, laughing, "my former mistress, who left me in her car to go in search of help."

"Yes," said Peyton. "Wasn't it lucky I came along? You little thought
Farnsworth sent me, did you?"

"Indeed I didn't!" and Patty smiled at him, "and will you take me home in that little car? for I promised Adele I'd go at once."

"Of course I will," said Bob Peyton, "if you must go."

So Patty was made ready for her drive and Mrs. Brewster insisted she should wear the warm coat as the evening had grown chilly.

The whole crowd went out on the steps to see Patty off, and Mr.
Brewster tucked her in, while Bob Peyton cranked the car.

"All aboard," said Peyton, straightening himself up, at last; and then, somehow,—and Patty never knew how it happened,—somebody jumped into the seat beside her, somebody grasped the steering-wheel, and the little car flew down the road and out at the gate, and even before Patty looked up to see the face of the man beside her, she KNEW it was not Mr. Peyton!

She looked up, and saw smiling at her the blue eyes of Bill Farnsworth.

Mrs. Brewster had tied a chiffon scarf over Patty's hair, and as Patty looked up in Farnsworth's face, the moonlight illumined her own face until she looked more like a fairy than a human being.

"Apple Blossom!" said Big Bill, under his breath. "I never shall find a more perfect name for you than that! Now, tell me what it's all about. Hurry up, we haven't much time."

"But—but I'm so surprised! Why are YOU here, instead of Mr. Peyton?"

"Because I wanted to ride home with you."

"So did he."

Farnsworth shrugged his broad shoulders, as if to say that what Peyton wanted was a matter of utter indifference to him. "Go on," he said briefly, "tell me what it's all about."

"I don't know what you mean! What's all WHAT about?"

"The way you're treating me. The last time I saw you was last winter; at the Hepworths' wedding, to be exact. We were friends then,—good friends. Then I came up here,—yesterday. I threw your own flowers in at your window, and you came and smiled at me and said you were glad to see me. Didn't you?"

"Yes," said Patty, in a faint little voice.

"Yes, you DID. And then,—then, Apple Blossom, when you came down stairs later, playing May Queen, you scarcely looked at me! you scarcely spoke to me! You wouldn't dance with me!"

"But you only asked me because—"

"Don't tell that story again! Because Adele told me to ask you, is utter rubbish, and you know it! That isn't why you wouldn't dance with me. No-sir-ee! You had some other reason, some foolish crazy reason, in your foolish crazy little noddle! Now out with it! Tell me what it is! Own up, Posy-Face. You heard something or imagined something about me, that doesn't please your ladyship, and I have a right to know what it is. At least, I'm going to know, whether I have a right or not. What is it or who is it that has interfered with our friendship?"

Patty looked up at Bill and read determination in his face. She knew it was no time for chaffing or foolishness. So she only said, as she looked straight at him,—"Miss Morton."

"Miss Morton! for Heaven's sake, what DO you mean?"

"The girl you're engaged to."

"The girl I'm engaged to! Patty, HAVE you taken leave of your senses?"

"Well, anyway, if you're not engaged to her, you're terribly in love with her! Your whole life and love is bound up in her!"

"Patty, I've heard there is a lunatic asylum over near Scottsville, and I'm going to take you right straight over there, unless you stop talking this rubbish! Now, if you're still possessed of the power of rational conversation, tell me who is this Miss Morton!"

"Miss Kate Morton,—the lady you're in love with."

Patty's spirits had begun to rise, and as she said this she looked up at Farnsworth, with demure face, but with a mouth dimpling into laughter.

"Kate Morton! Why, I haven't seen her for ten years!"

"Was it a hopeless affection, then? Are you only true to her memory?"

"Patty, BEHAVE yourself! Who mentioned Kate Morton's name to you?"

"Kitty! You always call her Kitty."

Farnsworth chuckled. "Call her KITTY! why, I'd sooner call the Flatiron
Building 'Kitty.' It would be about as appropriate."

"Well, anyway, you told Adele that you loved Kitty with all your heart and soul."

A great light seemed to break upon Farnsworth. He looked at Patty for a moment, with slowly broadening smile, and then he burst into irrepressible laughter.

"Oh, Patty!" he exclaimed, between his spasms of mirth; "Kitty! oh,
Kitty! Patty!"

Patty sat looking at him in stern silence.

"I should think, Mr. Farnsworth, if any one ought to go to a lunatic asylum it might as well be you! You sit there like an imbecile saying, oh, Patty! oh, Kitty!"

"I don't know which I love most, you or Kitty!" and again Farnsworth went off in a roar of laughter.

"I don't care to be mentioned in connection with Miss Morton," and
Patty tried her best to look like a tragedy queen.

"But it ISN'T Miss Morton, it's Kitty CLIVE."

"Adele said she couldn't remember her last name. But it doesn't matter to ME whether it's Miss Morton or Miss Clive."

"Oh, DON'T, Patty! You'll be the death of me! Why, Apple Blossom, Miss
Clive,—Kitty Clive,—is—my horse!"

Patty hesitated a moment, and then gave in, and laughed too.

"You must be AWFULLY fond of your horse," she said at last.

"I am; Kitty Clive is a wonder, and last summer we rode thousands of miles over the prairies. There NEVER was such a horse as my Kitty! And I remember I DID rave about her to Adele. But Adele MUST have known what I was talking about."

"No, she didn't. She thought it was a girl, and she told me not to—not to—" Patty floundered a little, and then concluded her sentence, "not to interfere."

"And, so, Apple Blossom, you were cool to me,—you were cruel to me,—you had no more use for me whatever; because you thought I liked another girl?"

"Well—I didn't want to interfere."

"You BLESSED Posy-Face! do you know what this MEANS to me? It means that you CARE—"

"No, I DON'T, Bill! I don't care if you like all the girls in the world. Only, you mustn't like them better than you do me."

"As if I COULD like anybody better than I do you!"

"And then we're friends again?"

"Friends!"

"Yes, friends. Don't you want to be friends with me, Little Billee?"

"Apple Blossom, I want to be to you anything and everything that you will let me be."

"Then we will be friends. Chums and comrades and good, GOOD friends."

Patty put a little pink hand out from the big coat sleeve and Bill clasped it in his great warm hand.

"Chums,—Apple Blossom,—and comrades, and good, GOOD friends!"

*****

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