So Patty held her little gloved fists in front of her, while Kenneth chose.

“Right!” he said, and her right hand slowly opened and showed the shining coin.

“Were you going to take me, anyway?” asked Kenneth, as they walked off together.  “And why did you turn down poor Van Reypen?  He was awfully cut up.”

“Ken Harper, do you mean to insinuate that I didn’t play fair?”

“Yes, my lady, just that.  Oh, cheating never prospers.  You have to put up with me, you see!”

“I might do worse,” and Patty flashed him a saucy glance.

“I wish you meant that.”

“Oh, I do!  I do, Ken.  Truly, there are lots of worse people than you in the world.”

“Who?”

“Well,—­there’s Eddie Perkins.”

“Oh, Patty! that fop!  Well, I’ll bet you can’t think of another.”

“No; I can’t.”

“Patty, how dare you!  Then you’ll sit right here until you can.”

Laughingly Kenneth stopped dancing, and led Patty to an alcove where there were a few chairs.  As they sat down, Philip Van Reypen came toward them.

“Oh, Ken,” Patty cried, “I’ve thought of a man worse than you are!  Oh, ever so much worse!  Here he is!  And I simply adore bad men, so I’m going to dance with him.”

Naughty Patty went dancing off with Van Reypen, and Ken looked after them, a little crestfallen.

“But,” he thought, “there’s no use being angry or even annoyed at that butterfly of a girl.  She doesn’t mean anything anyway.  Some day, she’ll wake up and be serious, but now she’s only a little bundle of frivolity.”

Kenneth had been friends with Patty for many years; far longer than any of her other young men acquaintances.  He was honestly fond of her, and had a dawning hope that some time they might be more than friends.  But he was a slow-going chap, and he was inclined to wait until he had a little more to offer, before he should woo the pretty butterfly.

And, too, Patty would never listen to a word of that sort of thing.  She had often proclaimed in his hearing, that she intended to enjoy several years of gay society pleasures, before she would be engaged to any one.

So Kenneth idly watched her, as she circled the room with Van Reypen, and took himself off to find another partner.

“Oh, Valentine, fair Valentine,” said Van Reypen to Patty, as they danced.

“Wilt thou be mine, and I’lt be thine,” returned Patty, in mocking sing-song tones.

“Forever may our hearts entwine,” improvised Philip, in tune to the music.

“Like chickwood round a punkin-vine,” Patty finished.

“Pshaw, that’s not sentimental.  You should have said, Like sturdy oak and clinging vine.”

“But I’m not sentimental.  Who could be in a crowded ballroom, in a glare of light, and in a mad dance?”

“What conditions would make you feel sentimental?”