Mr. Perry bustled around, flung off his coat, accepted a cup of tea from his wife, and then, coming over toward Patty, he ordered Kit Cameron to vacate, and he took his place.

“You’re not to be monopolised by that brother-in-law of mine, Miss Fairfield,” he said, as he sat down beside her.  “He’s a clever young chap, I admit, but he can’t always get ahead of me.”

Patty responded laughingly to this gay banter, and the tea hour passed all too quickly, and it was time to dress for dinner.

“We’ll put on our party frocks before dinner,” said Mrs. Perry, as she went upstairs with the girls; “and then we won’t have to dress twice.  I’ll send you a maid, Miss Fairfield.”

“Thank you,” said Patty, “but I can look after myself fairly well,—­ until it comes to hooking up.  I always do my own hair.”

“It can’t be much trouble,” said Mrs. Perry, looking admiringly at the golden curls, “for it looks lovely whatever way you do it.”

Patty slipped on a kimono and brushed out her shining mass of curls.  As Mrs. Perry had rightly said, Patty’s coiffure was not troublesome, for however she bunched up the gleaming mass it looked exactly right.  She twisted it up with care, however, and added a marvellous ornament of a bandeau, which circled halfway round her head, and above which a gilt butterfly was tremblingly poised.  It was too early to get into her frock, so Patty flung herself into a big chair before the crackling fire, and gave herself up to daydreams.  She dearly loved to idle this way and she fell to thinking, naturally, of the home she was visiting and the people who lived there.

Patty still sat dreaming these idle fancies, when there was a tap at the door and, in response to her permission, a maid entered.

“I’m Babette,” she said, “and I have come to help you with your gown.”

“Thank you,” said Patty, jumping up; “it’s later than I thought.  We must make haste.”

With experienced deftness, the French maid arrayed Patty in the beautiful evening gown of yellow satin, veiled with a shimmering yellow gauze.

Although unusual for a blonde, yellow was exceedingly becoming to Patty, and she looked like an exquisite spring blossom in the soft, sheath-like jonquil-coloured gown.

Her dainty satin slippers and silk stockings were of the same pale yellow, as was also the filmy scarf, which she knew how to wear so gracefully.

Her only ornament was a string of pearls, which had been her mother’s.

When she was all ready she went slowly down the winding staircase, looking about her at the interesting house.  A broad landing halfway down showed an attractive window-seat, and Patty sat down there for a moment.

There seemed to be no one in the hall below, and Patty concluded that she was early after all, though she had feared she would be late.

In a moment Kit came down and spied her.