“I fear I interrupted you,” said the young woman.  “I was just passing.”

“Not at all,” he protested.  “Surely you can give me a moment of your busy gala day.  I know you have a host of friends, of course, but—­well, I am lonely.  Curly and Bob and the boys are all having the time of their lives; the Dean and mother are lunching with friends; and I don’t know where Phil has hidden himself.”

It was like him to mention Phil in almost his first words to her.  And Kitty, as Patches spoke Phil’s name, instantly, as she had so often done during the past few months, mentally placed the two men side by side.

“I just wanted to tell you”—­she hesitated—­“Mr. Patches—­”

“I beg your pardon,” he interrupted smiling.

“Well, Patches then; but you seem so different somehow, dressed like this.  I just wanted to tell you that I saw what happened this morning.  It was splendid!”

“Why, Miss Reid, you know that was nothing.  The driver of the car would probably have dodged the youngster anyway.  I acted on the impulse of the moment, without thinking.  I’m always doing something unnecessarily foolish, you know.”

“The driver of the car would more likely have dodged into the child,” she returned warmly.  “And it was fortunate that some one in all that stupid crowd could act without taking time to think.  Everybody says so.  The dear old Dean is as pleased and proud as though you were one of his own sons.”

“Really, you make too much of it,” he returned, clearly embarrassed by her praise.  “Tell me, you are enjoying the celebration?  And what’s the matter with Phil?  Can’t you persuade him to ride in the contest?  We don’t want the championship to go out of Yavapai County, do we?”

Why must he always bring Phil into their talk?  Kitty asked herself.

“I am sure that Phil knows how all his friends feel about his riding,” she said coolly.  “If he does not wish to gratify them, it is really a small matter, is it not?”

Patches saw that he had made a mistake and changed easily to a safer topic.

“You saw the beginning of the automobile race, of course?  I suppose you will be on hand this afternoon for the finish?”

“Oh, yes, I’m on my way now to join my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stanford Manning.  We are going to see the finish of the race together.”

She watched his face closely, as she spoke of her friends, but he gave no sign that he had ever heard the name before.

“It will be worth seeing, I fancy,” he returned.  “At least everybody seems to feel that way.”

“I am sure to have a good time, anyway,” she returned, “because, you see, Mrs. Manning is one of my very dearest girl friends, whom I have not seen for a long time.”

“Indeed!  You will enjoy the afternoon, then.”

Was there a shade too much enthusiasm in the tone of his reply?  Kitty wondered.  Could it be that his plea of loneliness was merely a conventional courtesy and that he was really relieved to find that she was engaged for the afternoon?