But all this fun and frolic soon came to an end, and Patty returned to New York to take up her studies again.

Grandma Elliott was waiting for her in the pretty apartment home, and welcomed her warmly.

Mrs. Elliott and Patty were to stay at The Wilberforce only about a fortnight longer. Then Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield were to return and take Patty away with them to the new home on Seventy-second Street. Then the apartment in The Wilberforce was to be given up, and Grandma Elliott would return to Vernondale, where her son’s family eagerly awaited her.

“I’ve had a perfectly beautiful time, Grandma,” said Patty, as she took off her wraps, “but I haven’t time to tell you about it now. Just think, school begins again to-morrow, and I haven’t even looked at my lessons. I thought I would study some in Philadelphia, but goodness me, there wasn’t a minute’s time to do anything but frivol. The wedding was just gorgeous! Nan was a dream, and papa looked like an Adonis. I’ll tell you more at dinner time, but now I really must get to work.”

It was already late in the afternoon, but Patty brought out her books, and studied away zealously until dinner time. Then making a hasty toilette, she went down to the dining-room with grandma, and during dinner gave the old lady a more detailed account of her visit.

After dinner, Lorraine Hamilton and the Hart girls joined them in the parlour. But after chatting for a few moments with them, Patty declared she must go back to her studies.

“It’s awfully hard,” she said to Lorraine, as they walked to school next morning, “to settle down to work after having such a gay vacation. I do believe, Lorraine, that I never was intended for a student.”

“You’re doing too much,” said Lorraine. “It’s perfectly silly of you, Patty, to try to cram two years’ work into one, the way you’re doing.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Patty, “because then I won’t have to go to school next year, and that will be worth all this hard work now.”

“I’m awfully sorry you’re going away from The Wilberforce,” said Lorraine. “I shall miss you terribly.”

“I know it, and I’ll miss you, too; but Seventy-second Street isn’t very far away, and you must come to see me often.”

The schoolgirls all welcomed Patty back, for she was a general favourite, and foremost in all the recreations and pleasures, as well as the classes of the Oliphant school.

“Oh, Patty,” cried Elise Farrington, as she met her in the cloakroom, “what do you think? We’re going to get up a play for commencement. An original play, and act it ourselves, and we want you to write it, and act in it, and stage-manage it, and all. Will you, Patty?”

“Of course I will,” said Patty. “That is, I’ll help. I won’t write it all alone, nor act it all by myself, either. I don’t suppose it’s to be a monologue, is it?”

“No,” said Elise, laughing. “We’re all to be in it, and of course we’ll all help write it, but you must be at the head of it, and see that it all goes on properly.”

“All right,” said Patty, good-naturedly, “I’ll do all I can, but you know I’m pretty busy this year, Elise.”

“I know it, Patty, and you needn’t do much on this thing. Just superintend, and help us out here and there.”

Then the girls went into the class room and the day’s work began.

Patty had grown very fond of Elise, and though some of the other girls looked upon her as rather haughty, and what they called stuck-up, Patty failed to discern any such traits in her friend; and though Elise was a daughter of a millionaire, and lived a petted and luxurious life, yet, to Patty’s way of thinking, she was more sincere and simple in her friendship than many of the other girls.

After school that day Elise begged Patty to go home with her and begin the play.

“Can’t do it,” said Patty. “I must go home and study.”

“Oh, just come for a little while; the other girls are coming, and if you help us get the thing started, we can work at it ourselves, you know.”

“Well, I’ll go,” said Patty, “but I can only stay a few minutes.”

So they all went home with Elise, and settled themselves in her attractive casino to compose their great work.

But as might be expected from a group of chattering schoolgirls, they did not progress very rapidly.

“Tell us all about your fun in Philadelphia, Patty,” said Adelaide Hart.

And as Patty enthusiastically recounted the gaieties of her visit, the time slipped away until it was five o’clock, and not a word had been written.

“Girls, I must go,” cried Patty, looking at her watch. “I have an awful lot of studying to do, and I really oughtn’t to have come here at all.”

“Oh, wait a little longer,” pleaded Elise. “We must get the outline of this thing.”

“No, I can’t,” said Patty, “I really can’t; but I’ll come Saturday morning, and will work on it then, if you like.”

Patty hurried away, and when she reached home she found Kenneth Harper waiting for her.

“I thought you’d never come,” he said, as she arrived. “Your school keeps very late, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I’ve been visiting since school,” said Patty. “I oughtn’t to have gone, but I haven’t seen the girls for so long, and they had a plan on hand that they wanted to discuss with me.”

“I have a plan on hand, too,” said Kenneth. “I’ve been talking it over with Mrs. Elliott, and she has been kind enough to agree to it. A crowd of us are going to the matinÉe on Saturday, and we want you to go. Mrs. Morse has kindly consented to act as chaperon, and there’ll be about twelve in the party. Will you go, Patty?”

“Will I go!” cried Patty. “Indeed I will, Ken. Nothing could keep me at home. Won’t it be lots of fun?”

“Yes, it will,” said Kenneth, “and I’m so glad you will go. I was afraid you’d say those old lessons of yours were in the way.”

Patty’s face fell.

“I oughtn’t to go,” she said, “for I’ve promised the girls to spend Saturday morning with them, and now this plan of yours means that I shall lose the whole day, and I have so much to do on Saturday; an extra theme to write, and a lot of back work to make up. Oh, Ken, I oughtn’t to go.”

“Oh, come ahead. You can do those things Saturday evening.”

Patty sighed. She knew she wouldn’t feel much like work Saturday evening, but she couldn’t resist the temptation of the gay party Saturday afternoon. So she agreed to go, and Kenneth went away much pleased.

“What do you think, grandma?” said she. “Do you think I ought to have given up the matinÉe, and stayed at home to study?”

“No, indeed,” said Grandma Elliott, who was an easy-going old lady. “You’ll enjoy the afternoon with your young friends, and, as Kenneth says, you can study in the evening.”

So when Saturday came Patty spent the morning with Elise. The other girls were there, and they really got to work on their play, and planned the scenes and the characters.

“It will be perfectly lovely!” exclaimed Adelaide Hart. “I’m so glad for our class to do something worth while. It will be a great deal nicer than the tableaux of last year.”

“But it will be an awful lot of work,” said Hilda Henderson. “All those costumes, though they seem so simple, will be quite troublesome to get up, and the scenery will be no joke.”

“Perhaps Mr. Hepworth will help us with the scenery,” said Patty. “He did once when we had a kind of a little play in Vernondale, where I used to live. He’s an artist, you know, and he can sketch in scenes in a minute, and make them look as if they had taken days to do. He’s awfully clever at it, and so kind that I think he’ll consent to do it.”

“That will be regularly splendid!” said Elise, “and you’d better ask him at once, Patty, so as to give him as much time as possible.”

“No, I won’t ask him quite yet,” said Patty, laughing. “I think I’ll wait until the play is written, first. I don’t believe it’s customary to engage a scene painter before a play is scarcely begun.”

“Well, then, let’s get at it,” said Hilda, who was practical.

So to work they went, and really wrote the actual lines of a good part of the first act.

“Now, that’s something like,” said Patty, as, when the clock struck noon, she looked with satisfaction on a dozen or more pages, neatly written in Hilda’s pretty penmanship. “If we keep on like that, we can get this thing done in five or six Saturday mornings, and then I’ll ask Mr. Hepworth about the scenery. Then we can begin to rehearse, and we’ll just about be ready for commencement day.”

While Patty was with the girls, her interest and enthusiasm were so great that the play seemed the only thing to be thought of. But when she reached home and saw the pile of untouched schoolbooks and remembered that she would be away all the afternoon, she felt many misgivings.

However, she had promised to go, so off she went to the matinÉe, and had a thoroughly pleasant and enjoyable time. Mrs. Morse invited her to go home to dinner with Clementine, saying that she would send her home safely afterward.

Clementine added her plea that this invitation might be accepted, but Patty said no. Although she wanted very much to go with the Morses, yet she knew that duty called her home. So she regretfully declined, giving her reason, and went home, determined to work hard at her themes and her lessons. But after her merry day with her young friends, she was not only tired physically, but found great difficulty in concentrating her thoughts on more prosaic subjects. But Patty had pretty strong will-power, and she forced herself to go at her work in earnest. Grandma Elliott watched her, as she pored over one book after another, or hastily scribbled her themes. A little pucker formed itself between her brows, and a crimson flush appeared on her cheeks.

At ten o’clock Mrs. Elliott asserted her authority.

“Patty,” she said, “you must go to bed. You’ll make yourself ill if you work so hard.”

Patty pushed back her books. “I believe I’ll have to, grandma,” she said. “My head’s all in a whirl, and the letters are dancing jigs before my eyes.”

Exhausted, Patty crept into bed, and though she slept late next morning, Grandma Elliott imagined that her face still bore traces of worry and hard work.

“Nonsense, grandma,” said Patty, laughing. “I guess my robust constitution can stand a little extra exertion once in a while. I’ll try to take it easier this week, and I believe I’ll give up my gymnasium work. That will give me more time, and won’t interfere with getting my diploma.”

But though Patty gained a few extra half hours by omitting the gymnasium class, she missed the daily exercise more than she would admit even to herself.

“You’re getting round-shouldered, Patty,” said Lorraine, one day; “and I believe it’s because you work so hard over those old lessons.”

“It isn’t the work, Lorraine,” said Patty, laughing. “It’s the play. I had to rewrite the whole of that garden scene last night, after I finished my lessons.”

“Why, what was the matter with it?”

“It was all wrong. We didn’t think of it at the time, but in one place Elise has to go off at one side of the stage, and, immediately after, come on at the other side, in different dress. Now, of course, that won’t do; it has to be arranged so that she will have time to change her costume. So I had to write in some lines for the others. And there were several little things like that to be looked after, so I had to do over pretty nearly the whole scene.”

“It’s a shame, Patty! We make you do all the hardest of the work.”

“Not a bit of it. I love to do it; and when we all work together and chatter so, of course we don’t think it out carefully enough, and so these mistakes creep in. Don’t say anything about it, Lorraine. The girls will never notice my little changes and corrections, and I don’t want to pose as a poor, pale martyr, growing round-shouldered in her efforts to help her fellow-sisters!”

“You’re a brick, Patty, but I will tell them, all the same. If we’re all going to write this play together, we’re going to do it all, and not have you doing our work for us.”

Lorraine’s loyalty to Patty was unbounded, and as she had, moreover, a trace of stubbornness in her character, Patty knew that no amount of argument would move her from her determination to straighten matters out. So she gave up the discussion, only saying, “You won’t do a bit of good, Lorraine; and anyway, somebody ought to revise the thing, and if I don’t do it, who will?”

Patty said this without a trace of egotism, for she and Lorraine both knew that none of the other girls had enough constructive talent or dramatic capability to put the finishing touches on the lines of the play. That was Patty’s special forte, just as Clementine Morse was the one best fitted to plan the scenic effects, and Elise Farrington to design the costumes.

“That’s so,” said Lorraine, with a little sigh, “and I suppose, Patty, you’ll just go on in your mad career, and do exactly as you please.”

“I suppose I shall,” said Patty, laughing at Lorraine’s hopeless expression; “but I do want this play to be a success, and I mean to help all I can, in any way I can.”

“It’s bound to be a success,” said Lorraine with enthusiasm, “because the girls are all so interested, and I think we’re all working hard in our different ways. Of course I don’t have anything to do except to look after the incidental music, but I do hope that will turn out all right.”

“Of course it will, Lorraine,” said Patty. “Your selections are perfect so far; and you do look after more than that. Those two little songs you wrote are gems, and they fit into the second act just exactly right. I think you’re a real poet, Lorraine, and after the play is over I wish you’d get those little songs published. I’m sure they’re worth it.”

“I wish I could,” said Lorraine, “and I do mean to try.”