It was after midnight when the Christmas guests went away, and Patty declared her intention of going to bed at once.

“I coasted and danced and played hide and seek till I’m utterly worn out,” she said, “and I think I shall sleep for a week!”

“But I’m going away to-morrow,” said Philip, detaining her a moment.

“But you’re coming back next week. I’ll promise to be awake by then. But now I’m going to hibernate, like a bear! Good-night, everybody!” and Patty ran upstairs without further ceremony.

But as, in her pretty blue négligée, she sat before the mirror brushing her long hair, Mona, Daisy, and Adèle all came into her room, quite evidently with a determination to chat.

“You’re an old sleepy-head, Patty,” declared Adèle. “You may sleep as late as you like in 226 the morning, but we want to have a little confab now, about lots of things.”

“Nicht, nein, non, no!” cried Patty, jumping up and brandishing her hair-brush. “I know perfectly well what your confabs mean,—an hour or more of chattering and giggling! Come in the morning,—I’m going to have my chocolate upstairs to-morrow,—and I’ll give you all the information you want. But as for to-night, skip, scoot, scamper, and vamoose, every dear, sweet, pretty little one of you!”

Laughingly, Patty pushed the three out of her room, and closing the door after them, turned its key, unheeding their protests, and returned to her hair-brushing.

“It’s no use, Patricia,” she said, talking to herself in the mirror, as she often did, “letting those girls keep you up till all hours! You need your beauty sleep, to preserve what small pretence to good looks you have left.”

Patty was not really vain of her pretty face, but she well knew that her delicate type of beauty could not stand continuous late hours without showing it, and Patty was not mistaken when she claimed for herself a good share of common sense.

But as she brushed away at the golden tangle 227 of curls, she heard a light tap at her door, which sounded insistent, rather than mischievous.

“Who is it?” she asked, as she rose and went toward the door.

“It’s Daisy,” said a low voice. “Let me in, Patty, just for a minute.”

So Patty opened the door, and Daisy Dow came in.

“I want to tell you something,” she said, as Patty stood waiting, brush in hand. “I don’t really want to tell you a bit,—but Jim says I must,” and Daisy looked decidedly cross and ill-tempered.

Patty realised that it was a bother of some kind, and she said, gently, “Leave it till morning, Daisy; we’ll both feel brighter then.”

“No; Jim said I must tell you to-night. Oh, pshaw, it’s nothing, anyway! Only there was a letter for you from Bill Farnsworth, and I took it from May, and kept it for a while, just to tease you. I was going to give it to you to-morrow, anyway; but Jim came and asked me about it, and made such a fuss! Men are so silly!”

“Why, no, Daisy, it isn’t anything much; only you know people do like to have letters that belong to them! But, as you say, it’s nothing 228 to make a fuss about. Incidentally, I believe it’s a State’s prison offence,—or would be if you opened it. You didn’t, did you?”

“Of course not!” said Daisy; “but I knew it was only a card, like ours, and I just kept it back for fun.”

“It doesn’t seem to me an awfully good joke,—but never mind that. Give me the letter, and we’ll call it square, and I won’t have you arrested or anything.”

Patty spoke lightly, but really she was deeply annoyed at this foolish trick of Daisy’s. However, since Jim had found out the truth and made Daisy own up, there was no great harm done.

“I haven’t got the letter,” said Daisy. “I left it downstairs, but we can get it in the morning. I’m sure it’s only a card; it is just the same size and shape as ours.”

“Daisy, what did you do it for?” And Patty looked the girl in the eyes, in a real curiosity to know why she should descend to this petty meanness.

“Because you’re such a favourite,” said Daisy, truthfully. “Everybody likes you best, and everybody does everything for you, and you get everything, and I wanted to tease you!” 229

Patty grasped the girl by her shoulders, and shook her good-naturedly, while she laughed aloud. “Daisy, you do beat the dickens! You know that foolish little temper of yours is too silly for anything, and if you’d conquer it you’d be a whole lot nicer girl! You’re just as pretty as anybody else, and just as jolly and attractive, but you get a notion that you’re slighted when you’re not; and that makes you ill-tempered and you lose half your charm. Don’t you know that if you want people to love you and admire you, you must be sunshiny and pleasant?”

“Huh, that isn’t my nature, I s’pose. I can’t help my quick temper. But, anyway, Patty, you’re a dear not to get mad,—and I’ll give you the letter the first thing in the morning.”

“Where is it, Daisy?”

“Oh, I just stuck it between two volumes of a cyclop?dia, on a shelf in the library. So, you see, we can’t get it till morning; but it will be safe there, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying,” and Patty smiled, as Daisy said a somewhat abrupt good-night, and went away.

There were still a few embers of a wood fire 230 glowing on the hearth, and Patty sat down before it in a big arm-chair.

“I don’t know why I’m so glad,” she said to herself, her weariness all gone now. “But I did feel neglected to have Little Billee send the other girls cards, and leave me out. I’d like to see it; I hardly glanced at theirs,—though I remember, they weren’t very pretty. I’d like to see Little Billee again, but I don’t suppose I ever shall. Well, there are plenty of other nice boys in the world, so it doesn’t matter much. All the same, I’d like to see that card. I believe I’ll go down and get it. There’s always a low light in the hall, and I can feel it between the books.”

Patty hesitated for some time, but finally her impatience or curiosity got the better of her, and she softly opened her door and peeped out. There were low lights in the halls, and as she listened over the banister and heard no sounds, Patty began to creep softly down the stairs. Her trailing robe of light blue crêpe de chine was edged with swansdown, and she drew it about her, as she noiselessly tiptoed along in her slippered feet.

The hall light shone dimly into the library, through which Patty could see a brighter light in 231 the smoking-room beyond. She listened a moment, but hearing no voices, concluded she could creep into the library, capture her card, and return undiscovered.

“And, anyway,” she thought to herself, “there can’t be anybody in the smoking-room, or I would hear them talking.”

It was easy to proceed without a sound by stepping softly along the thick rugs, and as Patty knew exactly where the cyclop?dias were shelved, she made straight for that bookcase. It was next to the smoking-room doorway, and as Patty reached it, she peeped around the portière to make sure that the next room was unoccupied.

But to her surprise, she saw Philip Van Reypen stretched out in a big arm-chair in front of the fire. His eyes were closed, but Patty saw he was not asleep, as he was slowly smoking a cigar. Patty saw him sidewise, and she stood for a second contemplating the handsome profile and the fine physique of the man, who looked especially graceful in his careless and unconscious position.

Almost holding her breath, lest he should hear her, Patty moved noiselessly to the shelves, being then out of sight behind a portière. 232

By slow, careful movements, it was easy enough to move the books silently, and at last she discovered the blue envelope, tucked between two of them. She drew it out without a sound,—careful lest the paper should crackle,—and started to retrace her stealthy steps upstairs again, when she saw the hem of the portière move the veriest trifle.

“A mouse!” she thought to herself, with a terrified spasm of fear, for Patty was foolishly afraid of mice.

Unable to control herself, she sprang up into a soft easy-chair and perched on the back of it.

The springs of the chair gave a tiny squeak, scarcely as loud as a mouse might make, yet sufficient to arouse Van Reypen from his reverie.

He sprang up, and pushing aside the portière, switched on the light, to see Patty sitting on the low, tufted back of the chair, her hair streaming about her shoulders, and her face expressing the utmost fear and horror.

“Well!” he observed, looking at her with a smile,—“well!”

“Oh, Philip,” whispered Patty, in a quaking voice, “it’s a mouse! an awful mouse!”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” and Philip folded his arms, and stood gazing 233 at the pretty, frightened figure on the chair back.

His amused calm quieted Patty’s nerves, which had really been put on edge by her uncontrollable aversion to mice, and she returned, cheerfully, “I suppose I shall have to stay up here the rest of my life, unless you can attack and vanquish the fearsome brute.”

“I shall not even try,” said Philip, coolly, as he turned to throw away his cigar, “because I like to see you sitting up there. However, as there may be danger of another attack from the enemy, and as this chair is almost entirely unoccupied, I shall camp out here at your feet, and keep guard over your safety.”

He seated himself on the arm of the same chair, while Patty sat on its low, cushioned back. She drew her blue gown more closely about her, and cast wary glances toward the corner, where the enemy was presumably encamped.

“I think perhaps the danger is over,” she said. “And if you’ll go back to the smoking-room, I will make a brave effort to get away unharmed.”

“Watch me go,” said Philip, showing no signs of moving. “However, if it will set your mind at rest, I’ll tell you that it wasn’t a mouse. I 234 don’t believe they have such things in this well-regulated household.”

“But I saw it!” declared ............