When the day came for Patty and Elise to leave Pine Branches, everyone concerned was truly sorry. Elise had long been a favourite with the Warners, and they had grown to love Patty quite as well.

Roger was still there, and Mr. and Mrs. Farrington came for the young people in their motor-car. They were returning from a most interesting trip, which had extended as far as Portland. After hearing some accounts of it, Patty felt sure that she would have enjoyed it; but then she had also greatly enjoyed her visit at Pine Branches, and she felt sure that it had been better for her physically than the exertion and excitement of the motor-trip.

Besides this, the Farringtons assured her that there would be many other opportunities for her to go touring with them, and they would always be glad to have her.

So one bright morning, soon after the Fourth of July, The Fact started off again with its original party. They made the trip to New York entirely without accident or mishap of any kind, which greatly pleased Roger, as it demonstrated that The Fact was not always a stubborn thing.

Patty was to spend the months of July and August with her father and Nan, who had rented a house on Long Island. The house was near the Barlows’ summer home at Sandy Cove, for Nan had thought it would be pleasant to be near her friends, who were also Patty’s relatives.

Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield had already gone to Long Island, and the Farringtons were to take Patty over there in the motor-car.

So, after staying a day or two with Elise in New York, Patty again took her place in the car for the journey to her new home. Mr. Farrington and Elise went with her, and after seeing her safely in her father’s care, returned to the city that same day.

Patty was glad to see her father and Nan again, and was delighted with the beautiful house which they had taken for the summer.

“How large it is!” she exclaimed, as she looked about her. “We three people will be lost in it!”

“We’re going to have a lot of company,” said Nan, “I’ve invited nearly everyone I know, and I shall expect you to help me entertain them.”

“Gladly,” said Patty; “there are no horrid lessons in the way now, and you may command my full time and attention.”

The day after Patty’s return to her family, she proposed that they go over to see the Barlows.

“It’s an awful hot afternoon,” said Nan, “but I suppose we can’t be any warmer there than here.”

So arraying themselves in fresh, cool white dresses, Nan and Patty started to make their call.

The Barlows’ summer place was called the Hurly-Burly, and as Nan and Patty both knew, the name described the house extremely well.

As Bob Barlow sometimes said, the motto of their home seemed to be, “No place for nothin’, and nothin’ in its place.”

But as the family had lived up to this principle for many years, it was not probable things would ever be any different with them, and it did not prevent their being a delightful family, while their vagaries often proved extremely entertaining.

But when Nan and Patty neared the house they saw no sign of anybody about.

The doors and windows were all open and the visitors walked in, looked in the various rooms, and even went upstairs, but found nobody anywhere.

“I’ll look in the kitchen,” said Patty; “surely old Hopalong, the cook, will be there. They can’t all be away, and the house all open like this.”

But the kitchen too, was deserted, and Nan said, “Well, let us sit on the front verandah a while; it must be that somebody will come home soon, and anyway I’m too warm and tired to walk right back in the broiling sun.”

So they sat on the verandah for half an hour, and then Patty said, “Let’s give one more look inside the house, and if we can’t find anybody let’s go home.”

“All right,” said Nan, and in they went, through the vacant rooms, and again to the kitchen.

“Why, there’s Hopalong,” said Patty, as she saw the old coloured woman busy about her work, though indeed Hopalong’s slow movements could not be accurately described by the word busy.

“Hello, Hopalong,” said Patty, “where are all the people?”

“Bless yo’ heart Miss Patty, chile, how yo’done skeered me! And howdy, Miss Nan,—’scuse me, I should say Missus Fairfield. De ladies is at home, and I ’spects dey’ll be mighty glad to see you folks.”

“Where are they, then?” said Nan, looking puzzled, “we can’t find them.”

“Well yo’ see it’s a mighty hot day, and dem Barlows is mighty fond of bein’ as comf’able as possible. I’m makin’ dis yere lemonade for ’em, kase dey likes a coolin’ drink. I’ll jest squeeze in another lemon or two, and there’ll be plenty for you, too.”

“But where are they, Hopalong?” asked Patty, “are they outdoors, down by the brook?”

“Laws no, Miss Patty, I done forgot to tell yo’ whar dey am, but dey’s down in de cellah.”

“In the cellar!” said Patty, “what for?”

“So’s dey kin be cool, chile. Jes’ you trot along down, and see for yourselfs.”

Hopalong threw open the door that led from the kitchen to the cellar stairs, and holding up their dainty white skirts, Patty and Nan started down the rather dark staircase.

“Look at those white shoes coming downstairs,” they heard Bumble’s voice cry; “I do believe it’s Nan and Patty!”

“It certainly is,” said Patty, and as she reached the last step, she looked around in astonishment, and then burst into laughter.

“Well, you do beat all!” she said, “We’ve been sitting on the front verandah half an hour, wondering where you could be.”

“Isn’t it nice?” said Mrs. Barlow, after she had greeted her guests.

“It is indeed,” said Patty, “it’s the greatest scheme I ever heard of.”

The cellar, which had been recently white-washed, had been converted into a funny sort of a sitting-room. On the floor was spread a large white floor-cloth, whose original use had been for a dancing crash.

The chairs and sofas were all of wicker, and though in various stages of dilapidation, were cool and comfortable. A table in the center was covered with a white cloth, and the sofa pillows were in white ruffled cases.

Bumble explained that the intent was to have everything white, but they hadn’t been able to carry out that idea fully, as they had so few white things.

“The cat is all right,” said Patty, looking at a large white cat that lay curled up on a white fur rug.

“Yes, isn’t she a beautiful cat? Her name is The Countess, and when she’s awake, she’s exceedingly aristocratic and dignified looking, but she’s almost never awake. Oh, here comes Hopalong, with our lemonade.”

The old negro lumbered down the steps, and Bumble took the tray from her, and setting it on the table, served the guests to iced lemonade and tiny thin cakes of Hopalong’s concoction.

“Now isn’t this nice?” said Mrs. Barlow, as they sat chatting and feasting; “you see how cool and comfortable it is, although it’s so warm out of doors. I dare say I shall get rheumatism, as it seems a little damp here, but when I feel it coming on, I’m going to move my chair over onto that fur rug, and then I think there will be no danger.”

“It is delightfully cool,” said Patty, “and I think it a most ingenious idea. If we had only known sooner that you were here, though, we could have had a much longer visit.”

“It’s so fortunate,” said Bumble, whom Patty couldn’t remember to call Helen, “that you chanced to be dressed in white. You fit right in to the colour scheme. Mother and I meant to wear white down here, but all our white frocks have gone to the laundry. But if you’ll come over again after a day or two, we’ll have this place all fixed up fine. You see we only thought of it this morning. It was so unbearably hot, we really had to do something.”

Soon Uncle Ted and Bob came in, and after a while Mr. Fairfield arrived.

The merry party still stayed in the cellar room, and one and all pronounced it a most clever idea for a hot day.

The Barlows were delighted that the Fairfields were to be near them for the summer, and many good times were planned for.

Patty was very fond of her Barlow cousins, but after returning to her own home, which Nan with the special pride of a young housekeeper, kept in the daintiest possible order, Patty declared that she was glad her father had chosen a wife who had the proper ideas of managing a house.

Nan and Patty were congenial in their tastes and though Patty had had some experience in housekeeping, she was quite willing to accept any innovations that Nan might suggest.

“Indeed,” she said, “I am only too glad not to have any of the care and responsibility of keeping house, and I propose to enjoy an idle summer after my hard year in school.”

So the days passed rapidly and happily. There were many guests at the house, and as the Fairfields were rather well acquainted with the summer people at Sandy Cove, they received many invitations to entertainments of various kinds.

The Farringtons often came down in their motor-car and made a flying visit, or took the Fairfields for a ride, and Patty hoped that the Warners would visit them before the summer was over.

One day Mr. Phelps appeared unexpectedly, and from nowhere in particular. He came in his big racing-car, and that day Patty chanced to be the only one of the family at home. He invited her to go for a short ride with him, saying they could easily be back by dinner time, when the others were expected home.

Glad of the opportunity, Patty ran for her automobile coat and hood, and soon they were flying along the country roads.

Part of the time they went at a mad rate of speed, and part of the time they went slower, that they might converse more easily.

As they went somewhat slowly past a piece of woods, Patty gave a sudden exclamation, and declared that she saw what looked like a baby or a young child wrapped in a blanket and lying on the ground.

Her face expressed such horror-stricken anxiety, as she thought that possibly the child had been abandoned and left there purposely, that Mr. Phelps consented to go back and investigate the matter, although he really thought she was mistaken in thinking it was a child at all.

He turned his machine, and in a moment they were back at the place.

Mr. Phelps jumped from the car, and ran into the wood where Patty pointed.

Sure enough, under a tree lay a baby, perhaps a year old, fairly well dressed and with a pretty smiling face.

He called to Patty and she joined him where he stood looking at the child.

“Why, bless your heart!” cried Patty, picking the little one up, “what are you doing here all alone?”

The baby cooed and smiled, dimpling its little face and caressing Patty’s cheeks with its fat little hands. A heavy blanket had been spread on the ground for the child to lie on, and around its little form was pinned a lighter blanket with the name Rosabel embroidered on one corner.

“So that’s your name, is it?” said Patty. “Well, Rosabel, I’d like to know where you belong and what you’re doing here. Do you suppose,” she said, turning an indignant face to Mr. Phelps, “that anybody deliberately put this child here and deserted it?”

“I’m afraid that’s what has happened,” said Mr. Phelps, who really couldn’t think of any other explanation.

They looked all around, but nobody was in sight to whom the child might possibly belong.

“I can’t go away and leave her here,” said Patty, “the dear little thing, what shall we do with her?”

“It is a mighty hard case,” said Mr. Phelps, who was nonplussed himself. He was a most gentle-hearted man, and could not bear the thought of leaving the child there alone in the woods, and it was already nearing sundown.

“We might take it along with us,” he said, “and enquire at the nearest house.”

“There’s no house in sight,” said Patty, looking about. “Well, there are only two things to choose from; to stay here in hope that somebody will come along, who knows something about this baby, or else assume that she really has been deserted and take her home with us, for the night at least. I simply won’t go off and leave her here, and if there was anybody here in charge of her they must have shown up by this time.”

Mr. Phelps could see no use in waiting there any longer, and though it seemed absurd to carry the child off with them, there really seemed nothing else to do.

So with a last look around, hoping to see somebody, but seeing no one, Patty climbed into the car and sitting in the front seat beside Mr. Phelps, held the baby in her lap.

“She’s awfully cunning,” she declared, “and such a pretty baby! Whoever abandoned this child ought to be fearfully punished in some way.”

“I can’t think she was abandoned,” said Mr. Phelps, but as he couldn’t think of any other reason for the baby being there alone, he was forced to accept the desertion theory.

Having decided to take the baby with them, they sped along home, and drew up in front of the house to find Nan and Mr. Fairfield on the verandah.

“Why, how do you do, Mr. Phelps?” cried Nan. “We’re very glad to see you. Come in. For gracious goodness’ sake, Patty, what have you got there?”

“This is Rosabel,” said Patty, gravely, as she held the baby up to view.