The next morning was the day of the New Year. As usual, every one did as he or she chose during the morning hours, but luncheon time brought them all together again.

The three boys had been out of doors all the morning, and seemed glad to return again to the society of the American strangers.

The girls had been happy enough by themselves, and though they liked the French boys well enough, had privately agreed that they were not half as nice as American boys.

But half a dozen young people, if good-natured and enthusiastic, are bound to have a merry time together, and as the six grew better acquainted their national differences wore away somewhat.

Ma'amselle announced that the fete of the day would be an early evening party, followed by a supper.

She had invited the neighbouring gentry, both young and old, as was her custom on Jour de L'AN, and, as she explained, she was making it "more of an elaborateness" this year by asking her guests to come in fancy costumes.

This delighted the girls, for they all loved dressing up, but they had no notion where their fancy costumes were to come from.

But Ma'amselle replied, "It is arranged," and during the afternoon she led them to a large apartment which she called the Room of the Robes.

Here she displayed to the enraptured girls costume after costume of wonderful beauty and magnificence.

The Labesse line had been a long one, and apparently its ladies had never worn out or given away any of their robes. Nor its men either, for there were costumes of knights and courtiers, some of which would surely fit the three young men at present under the Chateau roof.

The girls were bewildered at the maze of costumes, and scarcely knew which to select.

Finally Patty chose a bewitching Watteau affair, with a short quilted petticoat, and a looped overdress made of the daintiest flowered silk imaginable. The petticoat was of white satin, and the overdress of palest blue, with garlands of pink roses. The pointed bodice laced up over a dainty neckerchief, and it was further adorned with borders of pearls.

Rosamond pounced upon a scarlet and gold brocade, which she declared was her ideal of a perfect gown.

Elise found a pink brocatelle, embroidered with silver, and after they had selected head-dresses, fans, and many accessories to their costumes, they scurried away to their own rooms to try them on.

"Aren't we having the time of our life?" exclaimed Rosamond, as she peacocked about, gazing over her shoulder at her long court train.

"Yes, indeed," said Patty, with a little sigh of content; "I adore this dressing-up performance, and really, girls, those boys are quite human under their French polish."

"They're not so bad," said Elise, "if only they wouldn't bow so often, and so exactly like dancing masters."

"Well, it's all fun," said Patty, "and I'm going to get that awfully nice Francoise to do my hair. She can make it just like an old French picture. Would you powder it?"

"No," said Elise, after a moment's consideration; "the powder shakes off all over everything and you can't make it really white, anyway; and besides, Patty, your hair is too pretty a colour to disguise with powder."

"Thank you for the compliment, Elise, though a little belated; all right, then, I'll leave my tow-coloured tresses their natural shade, and decorate them with strings of pearls and light blue ostrich tips."

The pearls and feathers and the manipulations of Franchise's artistic fingers transformed Patty's head into the semblance of an old French miniature, and even Patty herself cast an approving glance at the pretty reflection in the gilt-framed mirror.

The girls were wild with enthusiasm over Patty's appearance, though truth to tell, their own effects were scarcely less picturesque.

But Patty's style lent itself peculiarly well to the Watteau dress, and her little feet with their dainty silk stockings and high-heeled paste-buckled slippers twinkled beneath the quilted petticoat with all the grace of a real Watteau picture.

When they were ready, they walked down stairs, single file, with great pomp and dignity, to find awaiting them three polished young courtiers, who might have belonged to the Court of Versailles.

Ma'amselle herself was scarcely disguised, for in her ordinary costume she never strayed very far from the styles and materials of her beloved ancestors.

But she had on a royal robe, with a great jewelled collar, and strings of gems depending from her throat. She wore a coronet that had belonged to some of the ladies of her family, and she seemed more than ever a chatelaine of a bygone day.

The rooms were decorated with flowers and plants, in honour of the occasion, and hundreds of wax lights added to the brilliancy of the scene.

An orchestra of stringed instruments played delightful music, and Patty tried to forget entirely that she lived in the twentieth century, and pretended that time had been turned back many, many years.

The guests began to arrive, and though their costumes were of great variety, they were nearly all of French effects, and quite in harmony with the scene. Patty did not seem to care much to converse, or even to dance, but wandered around in a blissful state, enjoying the picturesque scene.

"Probably I shall never see anything like this again," she thought to herself, "and I just want to gaze at it until it is photographed on my mind forever. Oh, won't it be fun to tell Nan and papa about it!"

Just then she saw Henri Labesse approaching her.

"I fear I shall be awkward, Mademoiselle," he said, glancing at his arm in a sling, "but if you would forgive, and dance with me just once?"

"Of course I will," said Patty, her kind heart full of sympathy for the poor fellow. "We can manage quite nicely, I'm sure."

Henri put his good arm round Patty's waist, and lightly laying her hand on his shoulder, they glided away. Like most Frenchmen, young Labesse was a perfect dancer, and as Patty was skilled in the art, they danced beautifully together and seemed to be in no way impeded by the young man's broken arm.

"What a dance!" exclaimed Patty, as the music stopped; "I never met any one who dances as well as you do. If you dance like that with one arm, what would do with two?"

"All the merit of my dancing was due to my partner," said Henri, with one of his best bows, "you are like a fluff of thistledown, or a will o' the wisp. Forgive me, but I had imagined that American ladies danced like—like automobiles."

Patty laughed. "If you hadn't already paid me such a pretty compliment," she said, "I should be angry with you for that speech. But if you wish to know the truth of the matter, go and dance with Elise and Rosamond, and then come back and tell me what you think of American dancing."

Henri went away obediently, leaving Patty to decide among the group of partners who were begging her for a dance.

Later on Henri returned. "You are right," he said gravely; "the American demoiselles are, indeed, divine dancers; but, may I say it? they are yet not like you. Will you not give me one more turn, and then I must dance no more to-night; my aunt forbids it, on the absurd score that I'm an invalid."

Willingly, Patty danced again with the young man, and as this time it was a fancy dance, the exquisite grace of the couple soon attracted the attention of the onlookers. One by one the other couples ceased dancing, until at last Patty and Henri were alone upon the waxed floor, while the others looked admiringly on. Inspired by the moment, Patty indulged in some fancy steps, which were quickly understood and repeated by Henri, and depending on a whispered word now and then for direction, they advanced and retreated, bowed and chasseed in an elaborate and exquisite minuet.

Henri's disabled arm, so far from being an obstacle to his grace, seemed to lend a certain quaint dignity to his movements, and in his court dress he looked like a wounded knight who had returned triumphant from the tourney, to dance with his fair lady.

Great applause followed the final figure of their dance, and Henri led pretty Patty, blushing with the honours heaped upon her, to his aunt. The old Ma'amselle kissed her dear little friend, and the tears in her eyes told Patty how much she had enjoyed the scene.

Then came the feast, which was all gaiety and merriment, and finally, by general acclamation, Patty was about to be crowned Queen of the New Year.

This, however, she would not allow, and taking the crown which was offered her, she went over and placed it on the white hair of her hostess, remarking that Ma'amselle was queen, and she herself the first lady in waiting.

The picture of pretty Patty as she stood by the side of the regal old lady, who sat, crowned, in her own chair of state, was worthy of a painter, and many who saw it wished it might have been transferred to canvas.

The festival broke up early, for the old Ma'amselle would not allow late hours for her children, and as soon as the last guest was gone she sent them scampering to bed, with strict injunctions for them not to reappear until noon the next day.

The next day was ushered in by a dismal, pouring rain, and certain outdoor pleasures which were planned for the afternoon had to be given up.

"But I'll tell you what we will do," announced Patty as they gathered in the great hall after luncheon, "we'll have an afternoon of American fun, and we'll show you French boys some tricks you never saw before."

Having asked permission from Ma'amselle, who would not have refused her had she asked to build a bonfire on the drawing-room carpet, Patty took her friends to the kitchen.

The fat old chef was amazed, but greatly pleased that the American demoiselles should honour his precincts, and he put himself, his assistants and all his pantries at their service.

"First," said Patty, "we're going to have a candy pull."

The French boys had no notion what a candy pull might be, but they were more than willing to learn.

A difficulty arose, however, when Patty undertook to explain to old Cesar, the CHEF, that she wanted molasses. She didn't know the French word for molasses, and when she tried SIROP, Cesar affably flew around and brought her such a variety of SIROPS that she was overwhelmed. Nor were they of any use to her, for they were merely sweet essences of various fruits, and nothing like good old New Orleans molasses.

Cesar was desolate that he could not please Patty, and berated his assistants down to the scullion for not knowing what the American young lady wanted.

As soon as he could for laughter, Henri helped matters out by explaining that what was desired was MELASSE.

"Ah! OUI, OUI, OUI!" exclaimed the delighted Cesar, and he sent the kitchen boys flying for the right thing at last.

Laughing herself at the absurdity of making molasses candy, with the assistance of half a dozen French cooks, Patty proceeded to measure out cupfuls of the treacle and pour it into a skillet.

She was enchanted with the immaculate purity and spotlessness of the
French kitchen, which even that of a New England housewife cannot rival.

She had set the boys to cracking nuts and picking them out, and when the time came, she added butter and a dash of vinegar to her boiling candy, watched with great interest by Cesar, whose French repertoire did not include any such strange mess as this.

After the candy was poured out into the pans, and partly cooled, the pulling began.

Patty never liked this part of the performance herself, and she frankly said so, stating that if the others wanted to pull the taffy she would show them how. Elise declined, but Rosamond pulled away briskly, using only the tips of her fingers, and with a practiced touch, until her portion of candy became of a beautiful cream colour and then almost white. After watching her a few moments, Cesar caught the trick, and taking a large panful, pulled and tossed it about with such dexterity that they all applauded.

Henri, of course, could not join in the sport, but Philippe and Cecil undertook it bravely, though, meeting with difficulties, they soon gave it up.

"It Is a knack," said Patty, "and though I can do it fairly well, I hate it because it's so messy. But Cesar is an artist at it, so suppose we let him do the rest."

Cesar willingly consented to this plan, and the young people ran away, leaving him to finish the taffy.

"Next," said Patty, as after much washing of hands they had again assembled in the glass parlour, "I'm going to teach you to play bean bags."

Elise and Rosamond set up a shout of laughter at this, and the boys looked politely inquisitive.

Calling a footman, Patty, who greatly enjoyed the joke of being waited upon to such an absurd degree, asked him pleasantly to bring her some beans. She chose her French carefully, designating what she wanted by the term haricots.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," said the obsequious footman, hurrying away on his errand. He quickly returned, bearing a tin of French beans on a silver tray.

Patty burst into laughter, and so did the rest of them, though only
Elise and Rosamond knew what the joke was about.

"Non, Non!" exclaimed Patty, between her peals of laughter; "beans, beans! oh, wait a minute, I'll tell you, I'll tell you; stop, let me think!"

After a moment's hard thought, she triumphantly exclaimed, "Feve!"

"Oui, oui, oui," exclaimed the footman, comprehendingly, and away he stalked once more. This time he returned with a large silver dish full of coffee beans, neither roasted nor ground.

These Patty accepted with many thanks. "I don't believe," she said, "that they have real bean-bag beans in this benighted country, and these will answer the purpose just as well."

Then again summoning her best French to her aid, she asked the footman to procure for her some pieces of material—cloth or cotton—and she indicated the size with her finger, also asking him to bring a work-basket. Then with an exhausted air she sat back in her chair and waited.

"Patty, you do beat the Dutch!" said Elise; "you know he can't find such things."

"Can't he?" said Patty complacently; "something tells me that that able footman will return with material for bean-bags."

The boys were looking on with great amusement, though only half understanding what it was all about. They understood English, and nearly all of Patty's French, but BEAN-BAGS was an unknown word to them.

True to Patty's prophecy the clever footman returned, still grave and immovable of countenance, but bearing a well-filled work-basket, and a quantity of pieces of magnificent satin brocades which had been cut in six-inch squares—that being the size indicated by Patty.

Patty took them with a gracious air of satisfaction, and rewarded the footman with thanks in French and a smile in American.

"Now," she went on calmly, "I shall be pleased to have the assistance of you two ladies, as I fancy these young men are not any more accustomed to sewing than to pulling taffy."

But to her surprise Cecil declared himself an expert needleman, and proved it by stitching up a bean-bag, under Patty's direction, in most praiseworthy fashion.

Each of the girls made one, too, and when they were filled with the coffee beans, and sewed up, Patty was again overcome by merriment at the regal appearance of their satin brocaded bean-bags.

Then into the long hall they went, but alas! the girls could not bring themselves to toss bean-bags in an apartment so filled with fragile objects of value.

In despair Patty again consulted her friend the footman. As soon as he understood her dilemma, he assured her he would arrange all; and in less than fifteen minutes he came back to her, almost smiling, and invited the party to follow him.

They followed to the picture gallery, where the ingenious man had carefully placed a number of large, folding Japanese screens in front of the pictures to protect them from possible harm.

Patty was delighted at this contrivance, and then followed such a game of bean-bags as had probably never been seen before in all France.

The only drawback was that Henri could not take part in this sport, but as Patty said wisely, "One cannot have everything in France; and, at any rate, he can eat some of our American taffy, which must be cooled by this time."