After supper there was dancing, and Patty was besieged by would-be partners. Good-naturedly she fractioned her dances, and even divided the short intermissions between them. Everybody wanted to dance with the smiling little person in red velvet, and her pretty gaiety salved the wounds of those whom she was obliged to refuse.

At last, Farnsworth came to her, and his determined expression told
Patty he was about to lay down the law.

Sure enough, he took her hand in his, drew it through his arm, and led her out of the dancing room.

"Without even a \'by your leave?\'" and Patty looked up at him, inquiringly.

"Without it or with it. But you can\'t dance any more tonight. You\'re so tired you can scarcely stand up now."

"That\'s so, now that you speak of it. But I hadn\'t realised it."

"Of course you hadn\'t. You\'re crazy, when it comes to dancing!"

"Well, you\'re not. You haven\'t danced with me once tonight, except that old country dance."

"Did you want me to? Were you lacking for partners?"

"Me! Lacking for partners! Am I, usually?"

"Oh, Patty, what a little Vanity Box you are! No, you never lack for partners or attention or flattery,—all you ever lack is a little common sense."

"Why-ee! Little Billee! I\'ve always prided myself on my common sense.
But where are you taking me?"

"Not very far. There\'s a comfy window-seat in this little reception room, where you can rest a bit, then I\'m going to send you home."

"Oh, you are! And who constituted you my Major Domo, or Commanding
Officer, or Father Superior, or whoever it is that orders people about?"

"I don\'t order; I persuade, or induce, by power of my irresistible charm." Farnsworth\'s blue eyes twinkled, and Patty laughed outright, as she said, "Yes, I noticed the irresistibility as I left the Blaneys\' tonight!"

"And, that\'s the very subject I was about to discourse upon,—the
Blaneys, I mean. But first, let me make you comfy."

Farnsworth led Patty to the spacious, cushioned window-seat, and piled soft pillows at her back, and tucked an ottoman beneath her feet, and then sat down beside her. The little room was deserted by the dancers, and though some of the guests strolled in and out, occasionally, there was ample opportunity for real conversation.

"It\'s this way, Patty," Farnsworth began. "I know Sam Blaney, and you don\'t. I knew him years ago, and though I\'ve not seen him of late years, he\'s the same old two and sixpence."

"And a very attractive two and sixpence," declared Patty, an obstinate expression coming into her face. "You see, Little Billee, either you like wise, brainy people, or you don\'t. I do."

"I know you do, and so do I. But the Blaney crowd are neither wise nor brainy. They are frauds."

"Do you mean conscious frauds? Wilfully deceptive?"

"To a certain degree, yes. They do fool themselves, sometimes, into thinking they are sincere, but they can\'t even fool themselves all the time,—let alone other people."

"Your observations do not interest me." Patty\'s air was lofty, she looked away into space, as if bored to death with her companion.

"Would it interest you to know that I know Sam Blaney to be a fraud and a dishonest man?"

"I have heard you say that one\'s friends should be sacred from disparaging remarks."

"True enough. But, in the first place, Blaney isn\'t my friend, and even if he were, I should sacrifice him or his friendship for you."

"Why?"

"Never mind why. Oh, Patty, rely on my judgment, rely on my word in this matter, and don\'t have anything more to do with that rubbish bunch!"

"Look here, Little Billee, if that\'s all the subject you can find to talk about, I believe I\'d rather go back and dance. I\'m rested now."

"Sit still, Lady Gay. While we\'re on this subject, we\'re going to fight it to a finish."

"You mean you\'re going to fight me to a finish. Go on, it won\'t take long."

"You poor little girl,—you are tired, I know. Well, to make a long story short, then, you must break with these Cosmic people, because, if you don\'t, it will harm your social standing and injure your reputation."

"Why? They\'re absolutely correct and high-minded. They\'re a little unconventional, maybe, but they\'re interesting and worth while."

"But they\'re frauds, Patty. And they\'ve taken you up, because you\'re a social favourite, and you add lustre to their list."

"And they don\'t care for me, personally!"

"Now, don\'t flare up. Of course they like you, personally,—who doesn\'t? But they make you think you\'re brainy and soulful and a little old deep-thinker—and,—you\'re not, you know."

"Well! You are complimentary! What am I, pray? An ignoramus?"

"Hardly that. You\'re the sweetest, loveliest girl God ever made, but you\'re not a blue-stocking. You\'re not college bred, or even well-read."

"Do you know you\'re a very horrid person? Do you know I wouldn\'t stand such talk from many people?"

"I should hope not. Very few people know you well enough or love you well enough to tell you these truths."

"I know somebody who loves me too much to talk to me like that."

"Van Reypen, of course. But, Patty, he doesn\'t approve of the Blaney crowd, either, and you know it."

"That\'s because he doesn\'t understand them, and——"

"Wait a minute. Just what do you mean by understand them? They speak
English, I suppose."

"How dense you are! There is much beside language of words to be understood by kindred——"

"Don\'t you dare say souls!"

"I will,—I do say souls! That\'s what has no meaning for you!"

"Go on, Posy Face! You\'re pretty stunning when you get really stirred up!"

Farnsworth\'s face broke into a broad smile, and Patty was so amazed at his sudden change of manner that it irritated her.

"Oh, I am, am I! Well, other people have thought so, too. To the extent of putting it into poetry—real poetry!"

"Such as what?"

Farnsworth was so cynical of tone, that Patty broke her pledge of secrecy to the small extent of quoting a few words from the poem Blaney had given her.

"Such as this," she cried:

  "——perhaps because her limpid face
  Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein
  The dimples found no place to anchor and
  Abide."

"That is poetry, indeed!" agreed Farnsworth, looking at her quizzically. "Did you say it was written to you?"

"Yes, Sam Blaney wrote it, to me. I didn\'t mean to tell you, it\'s a confidential matter,—but you were so horrid about him——"

"Wait a minute, Patty. Is that an original poem, that Blaney wrote for you alone?"

"Yes, it is. I promised not to tell it to anybody, so I\'ll ask you to say nothing about it."

"Tell me more of it."

"No, I won\'t. I promised not to."

"You needn\'t. I\'ll tell you what comes next:

  \'——perhaps because her tresses beat
  A froth of gold about her throat, and poured
  In splendour to the feet that ever seemed
  Afloat.\'

Isn\'t that it?"

............