“Would you take a wager?”

“I’m not in the habit of betting, but I’m willing for once.  It’s hardly fair, though, for I’m betting on a dead certainty.”

“You mean you think you are!  And I think I am, so the chances are even.  What are the stakes?”

“I don’t care:  candy or books or flowers or anything.”

“Nonsense, they’re too prosaic.  If I win, you’re to give me a photograph of yourself.”

“Oh, I almost never give my picture to my suitors.  It isn’t good form.”

“But, if you’re so sure that you will win, you needn’t be afraid to promise it.”

“All right, I promise; and, if I win, you may give me a perfectly beautiful picture frame, in which I shall put some other man’s picture.”

“How cruel you can be!  But, as I’m sure of winning, I’m not afraid to take that up.  A frame against a picture, then.  But there must be a time limit.”

“I’ll give you a month; if you can’t do it in that time, you can’t do it at all.  And, also, I must be the judge,—­if you do fool me,—­ whether your practical joke is clever and not unkind.”

“I’m quite contented that you should be the judge, for I know your sincere and honest nature will not let you swerve a hair’s breadth from a true and fair judgment.”

“That’s clever,” returned Patty; “for now I shall have to be honest.”

The first dance over, Patty went on with a long succession of dances with her various partners.  They were all polite and courteous young men, some attractive and agreeable, others shy, and some dull and uninteresting.  Patty complacently accorded another dance to any one she liked, and calmly refused it to less desirable partners,—­ pleading an engagement with Cameron as her excuse.

The one she liked best was Eddie Bell.  As she had said, this young man did look a little like Patty herself, though this was mostly due to their similarity of colouring.

“If I may say anything so impossible, it seems to me that I look like a comic valentine of you,” said Mr. Bell, as they began to dance.

Patty laughed outright at this apt expression of their resemblance, and said:  “I have already told some one that you looked exactly like me.  So, in that case, I’m a comic valentine, too.  But, truly, you’re enough like me to be my brother.”

“May I be?  Not that I want to, in the least, but of course that is the obvious thing to say.  I’d rather be most any relation to you than a brother.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s such a prosaic relationship.  I have three sisters,—­and they’re the dearest girls in the world,—­but I don’t really feel the need of any more.”

“What would you like to be?” And Patty flashed him a dangerous glance of her pansy-blue eyes.

But Mr. Bell kept his equanimity.  “How about second cousin, once removed?”

“I suppose you’ll be removed at the end of this dance.”