“There’s a new family in that house across the road,” said Mr. Fairfield one evening at dinner.

“The Fenwick house?” asked Nan.

“Yes; a man named Roland has taken it for August. I know a man who knows them, and he says they’re charming people. So, if you ladies want to be neighbourly, you might call on them.”

Nan and Patty went to call and found the Roland family very pleasant people, indeed. Mrs. Roland seemed to be an easy-going sort of lady who never took any trouble herself, and never expected anyone else to do so.

Miss Roland, Patty decided, was a rather inanimate young person, and showed a lack of energy so at variance with Patty’s tastes that she confided to Nan on the way home she certainly did not expect to cultivate any such lackadaisical girl as that.

As for young Mr. Roland, the son of the house, Patty had great ado to keep from laughing outright at him. He was of the foppish sort, and though young and rather callow, he assumed airs of great importance, and addressed Patty with a formal deference, as if she were a young lady in society, instead of a schoolgirl.

Patty was accustomed to frank, pleasant comradeship with the boys of her acquaintance; and the young men, such as Mr. Hepworth and Mr. Phelps, treated Patty as a little girl, and never seemed to imply anything like grown-up attentions.

But young Mr. Roland, with an affected drawl, and what were meant to be killing glances of admiration, so conducted himself that Patty’s sense of humour was stirred, and she mischievously led him on for the fun of seeing what he would do next.

The result was that young Mr. Roland was much pleased with pretty Patty, and fully believed that his own charms had made a decided impression on her.

He asked permission to call, whereupon Patty told him that she was only a schoolgirl, and did not receive calls from young men, but referred him to Mrs. Fairfield, and Nan being in an amiable mood, kindly gave him the desired permission.

“Well,” said Patty, as they discussed the matter afterward, “if that young puff-ball rolls himself over here, you can have the pleasure of entertaining him. I’m quite ready to admit that another season of his conversation would affect my mind.”

“Nonsense,” said Nan, carelessly, “you can’t expect every young man to be as interesting as Mr. Hepworth, or as companionable as Kenneth Harper.”

“I don’t,” said Patty, “but I don’t have to bore myself to death talking to them, if I don’t like them.”

“No,” said Nan, “but you must be polite and amiable to everybody. That’s part of the penalty of being an attractive young woman.”

“All right,” said Patty, “since that’s the way you look at it, you surely can’t have any objection to receiving Mr. Roland if he calls, for I warn you that I shan’t appear.”

But it so happened that when a caller came one afternoon, Nan was not at home, and Patty was.

The maid brought the card to Patty, who was reading in her own room, and when she looked at it and saw the name of Mr. Charles Roland upon it, she exclaimed in dismay.

“I don’t want to go down,” she said, “I wish he hadn’t come.”

“It’s a lady, Miss Patty,” said the girl.

“A lady?” said Patty, wonderingly, “why this is a gentleman’s card.”

“Yes, ma’am, I know it, but it’s a lady that called. She’s down in the parlour, waiting, and that’s the card she gave me. She’s a large lady, Miss Patty, with greyish hair, and she seems in a terrible fluster.”

“Very mysterious,” said Patty, “but I’ll go down and see what it’s all about.”

Patty went down to the parlour, and found Mrs. Roland there. She did indeed look bewildered, and as soon as Patty entered the room she began to talk volubly.

“Excuse my rushing over like this, my dear,” she said, “but I am in such trouble, and I wonder if you won’t help me out. We’re neighbours, you know, and I’m sure I’d do as much for you. I asked for Mrs. Fairfield, but she isn’t at home, so I asked for you.”

“But the card you sent up had Mr. Charles Roland’s name on it,” said Patty, smiling.

“Oh, my dear, is that so? What a mistake to make! You see I carry Charlie’s cards around with my own, and I must have sent the wrong one. I’m so nearsighted I can’t see anything without my glasses, anyway, and my glasses are always lost.”

Patty felt sorry for the old lady, who seemed in such a bewildered state, and she said, “No matter about the card, Mrs. Roland, what can I do for you?”

“Why it’s just this,” said her visitor. “I want to borrow your house. Just for the night, I’ll return it to-morrow in perfect order.”

“Borrow this house?” repeated Patty, wondering if her guest were really sane.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Roland; “now wait, and I’ll tell you all about it. I’m expecting some friends to dinner and to stay over night, and would you believe it, just now of all days in the year, the tank has burst and the water is dripping down all through the house. We can’t seem to do anything to stop it. The ceilings had fallen in three rooms when I came away, and I dare say the rest of them are down by this time. And my friends are very particular people, and awfully exclusive. I wouldn’t like to take them to the hotel; and I don’t think it’s a very nice hotel anyway, and so I thought if you’d just lend me this house over night, I could bring my friends right here, and as they leave to-morrow morning, it wouldn’t be long, you know. And truly I don’t see what else I can do.”

“But what would become of our family?” said Patty, who was greatly amused at the unconventional request.

“Why, you could go to our house,” said Mrs. Roland dubiously; “that is, if any of the ceilings will stay up over night; or,” she added, her face brightening, “couldn’t you go to the hotel yourselves? Of course, it isn’t a nice place to entertain guests, but it does very well for one’s own family. Oh, Miss Fairfield, please help me out! Truly I’d do as much for you if the case were reversed.”

Although the request was unusual, Mrs. Roland did not seem to think so, and the poor lady seemed to be in such distress, that Patty’s sympathies were aroused, and after all it was a mere neighbourly act of kindness to borrow and lend, even though the article in question was somewhat larger than the lemon or the egg usually borrowed by neighbourly housekeepers.

So Patty said, “What about the servants, Mrs. Roland? Do you want to borrow them too?”

“I don’t care,” was the reply, “just as it suits you best. You may leave them here; or take them with you, and I’ll bring my own. Oh, please, Miss Fairfield, do help me somehow.”

Patty thought a minute. It was a responsibility to decide the question herself, but if she waited until Nan or her father came home, it would be too late for Mrs. Roland’s purpose.

Then she said, “I’ll do it, Mrs. Roland. You shall have the house and servants at your disposal until noon to-morrow. You may bring your own servants also, or not, just as you choose. We won’t go to your house, thank you, nor to the hotel. But Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield and myself will go over to my aunt, Mrs. Barlow’s, to dine and spend the night. They can put us up, and they won’t mind a bit our coming so unexpectedly.”

“Oh, my dear, how good you are!” said Mrs. Roland in a burst of gratitude. “I cannot tell you how I appreciate your kindness! Are you sure your parents won’t mind?”

“I’m not at all sure of that,” said Patty, smiling, “but I don’t see as they can help themselves; when they come home, you will probably be in possession, and your guests will be here, so there’ll be nothing for my people to do but to fall in with my plans.”

“Oh, how good you are,” said Mrs. Roland. “I will surely make this up to you in some way, and now, will you just show me about the house a bit, as I’ve never been here before?”

So Patty piloted Mrs. Roland about the house, showed her the various rooms, and told the servants that they were at Mrs. Roland’s orders for that night and the next morning.

After Mrs. Roland had gone back home, made happy by Patty’s kindness, Patty began to think that she had done a very extraordinary thing, and wondered what her father and Nan would say.

“But,” she thought to herself, “I’m in for it now, and they’ll have to abide by my decision, whatever they think. Now I must pack some things for our visit. But first I must telephone to Aunt Grace.”

“Hello, Auntie,” said Patty, at the telephone, a few moments later. “Papa and Nan and I want to come over to the Hurly-Burly to dinner, and to stay all night. Will you have us?”

“Why, of course, Patty, child, we’re glad to have you. Come right along and stay as long as you like. But what’s the matter? Has your cook left, or is the house on fire?”

“Neither, Aunt Grace, but I’ll explain when I get there. Can you send somebody after me in a carriage? Papa and Nan have gone off in the cart, and I have two suit cases to bring.”

“Certainly, Patty, I’ll send old Dill after you right away, and I’ll make him hurry, too, as you seem to be anxious to start.”

“I am,” said Patty, laughing. “Good-bye.”

Then she gathered together such clothing and belongings as were necessary for their visit, and had two suit cases ready packed when her aunt’s carriage came for her.

Patty looked a little dubious as she left the house, but she didn’t feel that she could have acted otherwise than as she had done, and, too, since their own trusty servants were to stay there, certainly no harm could come to the place.

So, giggling at the whole performance, Patty jumped into the Barlow carriage and went to the Hurly-Burly.

“Well, of all things!” said her Aunt Grace, after Patty had told her story. “I’ve had a suspicion, sometimes, that we Barlows were an unconventional crowd, but we never borrowed anybody’s house yet! It’s ridiculous, Patty, and you ought not to have let that woman have it!”

“I just couldn’t help it, Aunt Grace, she was in such a twitter, and threw herself on my mercy in such a way that I felt I had to help her out.”

“You’re too soft-hearted, Patty; you’d do anything for anybody who asked you.”

“You needn’t talk, Aunt Grace, you’re just the same yourself, and you know that if somebody came along this minute and wanted to borrow your house you’d let her have it if she coaxed hard enough.”

“I think very likely,” said Aunt Grace, placidly. “Now, how are you going to catch your father and Nan?”

“Why, they’ll have to drive past here on their way home,” said Patty, “and I mean to stop them and tell them about it. We can put the horse in your barn, I suppose.”

“Yes, of course. And now we’ll go out on the verandah, and then we can see the Fairfield turn-out when it comes along.”

The Fairfields were waylaid and stopped as they drove by the house, which was not astonishing, as Patty and Bumble and Mrs. Barlow watched from the piazza, while Bob was perched on the front gate post, and Uncle Ted was pacing up and down the walk.

“What’s the matter?” cried Mr. Fairfield, as he reined up his horse in response to their various salutations.

“The matter is,” said Patty, “that we haven’t any home of our own to-night, and so we’re visiting Aunt Grace.”

“Earthquake swallowed our house?” inquired Mr. Fairfield, as he turned to drive in.

“Not quite,” said Patty, “but one of the neighbours wanted to borrow it, so I lent it to her.”

“That Mrs. Roland, I suppose,” said Nan; “she probably mislaid her own house, she’s so careless and rattle-pated.”

“It was Mrs. Roland,” said Patty, laughing, “and she’s having a dinner-party, and their tank burst, and most of the ceilings fell, and really, Nan, you know yourself such things do upset a house, if they occur on the day of a dinner-party.”

Fuller explanations ensued, and though the Fairfields thought it a crazy piece of business, they agreed with Patty, that it would have been difficult to refuse Mrs. Roland’s request.

And it really didn’t interfere with the Fairfields’comfort at all, and the Barlows protested that it was a great pleasure to them to entertain their friends so unexpectedly, so, as Mr. Fairfield declared, Mrs. Roland was, after all, a public benefactor.

“You’d better wait,” said Nan, “until you see the house to-morrow. I know a little about the Rolands, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find things pretty much upside down.”

It was nearly noon the next day when Mrs. Roland telephoned to the Hurly-Burly and asked for Mrs. Fairfield.

Nan responded, and was told that the Rolands were now leaving, and that the Fairfields might again come into their home.

Mrs. Roland also expressed voluble thanks for the great service the Fairfields had done her, and said that she would call the next day to thank them in person.

So the Fairfields went back home, and happily Nan’s fears were not realised. Nothing seemed to be spoiled or out of order, and the servants said that Mrs. Roland and her family and friends had been most kind, and had made no trouble at all.

“Now, you see,” said Patty, triumphantly, “that it does no harm to do a kind deed to a neighbour once in a while, even though it isn’t the particular kind deed that you’ve done a hundred times before.”

“That’s true enough, Patty,” said her father, “but all the same when you lend our home again, let it be our own house, and furnished with our own things. I don’t mind owning up, now that it’s all over, that I did feel a certain anxiety arising from the fact that this is a rented house, and almost none of the household appointments are our own.”

“Goodness, gracious me!” said Patty. “I never once thought of that! Well, I’m glad they didn’t smash all the china and bric-a-brac, for they’re mortal homely, and I should certainly begrudge the money it would take to replace them.”