said Marie Homer, ecstatically; “I don’t ever want to go home. Does the mail come regularly?”
Everybody laughed at Marie’s look of anxiety, and Bill replied, “Yes, my child, you can get your daily letter from him up here.”
“He doesn’t write every day,” said Marie, so innocently that they all roared again.
“I wish I had somebody to write love-letters to me,” sighed Patty. “It must make life very interesting.”
“I’ll write them to you,” offered Chick. “It’s no trouble at all, and I’m the little old complete love-letter writer.”
“You’re right here in the spot, though, so that’s no fun. I mean somebody who isn’t here, – like Marie’s somebody.”
“Well, you must have plenty of absent adorers. Can’t you encourage their correspondence?”
“But then I’d have to write first, and I hate to do that, it’s so – so sort of forward.”
“That, to be sure. But it’s better to be forward than forlorn.”
“Oh, I’m not exactly forlorn!” said Patty, indignantly. “I can be happy with all these others, if t’other dear charmer is away.”
“Can you, Patty?” whispered Bill. “Are you happy here?”
“Oho, Little Billee, I am beatifically happy! Just see that confection Louis is bringing in! Could I be anything but happy with that ahead of me?”
The dessert that had just appeared was indeed a triumph of the confectioner’s art. Composed of ice cream, meringue and spun sugar, it was built into an airy structure that delighted the sight as well as the palate. Everybody applauded, and Adele declared it was really a shame to demolish it.
“It would be a shame not to,” said Patty, her blue eyes dancing in anticipation of the delicious sweet.
“What a little gourmande you are,” said Chick, watching Patty help herself bountifully to the dessert.
“’Deed I am. I love sweet things, they always make me feel at peace with the world. I eat them mostly for their mental and moral effect on me, for my disposition is not naturally sweet, and so I do all I can to improve it.”
“And yet you give the effect of a sweet dispositioned person.”
“She is,” spoke up Daisy, overhearing. “Why, Chick, Patty is the sweetest nature ever was. Don’t you believe her taradiddles.”
“I know the lady so slightly, I’m not much of a judge. But I feel sure she’ll improve on acquaintance,” and Chick looked hopeful.
“I hope so, I’m sure,” and Patty’s humble expression of face was belied by the twinkle in her eye.
Then dinner was over, and Adele rose and led the way to the great salon or drawing-room.
“Come for a little walk on the veranda,” said Chick to Patty. “Let’s get more acquainted.”
Patty caught up a rose-coloured wrap from the hall rack, and they went out and strolled the length of the long veranda that went round three sides of the house.
“Splendid crowd,” said Chick, enthusiastically; “and right down fine of old Bill to do this thing.”
“He is fine,” said Patty, impulsively; “whatever he does is on a big scale.”
“His friendships are, I have reason to know that. He’s done heaps for me, dear old chap.”
“Have you known him long?”
“Three or four years. Met him through Mona. Good sort, Mona.”
“Yes, Mona’s a dear. She’s the sort that wears well. Where is your home, Mr. Chick?”
“Nowhere, at present. I’ve lived in Arizona, but I’ve come East to grow down with the country. I’m a mining engineer, at your service.”
“I’d love to employ you, but, do you know, I seldom have need of the services of a first-class mining engineer.”
“Oh, I’m not so awfully first-class. Bill thinks he can use me in his manœuvres. We talked it over a bit on the way up, and I hope so, I’m sure.”
“Then I hope so, too.”
“Thank you. You’re a kind lady. Shall we sit in this glassy nook and flirt a bit?”
They had reached a portion of the veranda, glass-enclosed, and arranged with seats among tall palms and jars of flowers. There were shaded lights and a little illuminated fountain in the centre.
“I’ll stop here a moment, but I can’t flirt,” said Patty, demurely; “my chaperon won’t allow it.”
“Allowed flirting is no fun, anyway. Forbidden fruit is sweetest.”
“But sour grapes are forbidden fruit. How can sour be sweet?”
“Oh, it’s all according to your nature. If you have a sour nature, the grapes are sour. If a sweet disposition, then all fruits are sweet.”
“Even a lemon?”
“Nobody hands a lemon to sweet people.”
“Then they can’t have any lemonade, and I love it! I guess I’ll stop being so sweet – ”
“Good gracious, Patty, you couldn’t do that if you tried!”
This remark was made by Kit Cameron, who just then put his head in at the doorway and overheard Patty’s laughing decision.
“Hello, you two,” he went on; “you’ll have to stop your introspective conversation, and come and join the dance. Will you, won’t you come and join the dance? We’re only to have one, our dragon chaperon declares, and then we must all go by-by. So come and trip it, Patty of the fairy toes!”
The trio returned to the drawing-room, and after the one dance had been extended to half a dozen, Adele collected her headstrong charges and carried them off to bed.
“And you’re not to have kimono confabs all night, either,” she ordered. “Patty, you’ll be good for nothing tomorrow, if you don’t get some rest. And the others, too.”
But there was more or less chattering and giggling before the girls separated for the night. It seemed natural for them to drift into Patty’s boudoir and in their pretty negligées they dawdled about while Patty brushed her hair.
“What goldilocks!” exclaimed Marie, in admiration. And truly, Patty’s hair was a thing to admire. Thick and curling, it hung well below her waist, and shone with a golden glimmer as the light touched its rippling lengths.
“It’s an awful nuisance,” Patty declared; “there’s such a lot of it, and it does snarl so.”
“Let me help you,” cried Daisy, springing up and taking the brush from Patty’s hand. “Mona, do the other side.”
Mona seized another brush and
