“Oh, golly!  Look what I done!  Just like me!  But you’ve got plenty left.”  She tossed the broken branch out on the lawn, and then turned to follow Patty, already in the doorway.

“I’m coming!” she said, “lead the way, Cousin, I’ll trail you.  What a big house!  Don’t you ever get lost in it?”

“No,” smiled Patty, “and you won’t as soon as you’re used to it.  This way, Azalea.”

“Hello! Hello!  This my room?” The Western girl looked at the pretty yellow room as Patty ushered her in.

“Yes, if you like yellow,—­if not—­”

“Oh, yes, I like yellow good enough.  Don’t make any diff to me what colour a room is.  Nice and big, ain’t it?  Say, do you care if I chuck some of the lace props into the discard?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, these here, now, faddly-duds.”  And Azalea whisked off a little lace stand-cover, swept up an armful of lace pillows, and was about to jerk off the lace bedspread, when Patty protested.

“Oh, wait a minute,—­of course you needn’t have anything you don’t want,—­but Janet will take off the spread.”

“’Fraid I’ll muss it up, hey?” Azalea laughed, “Well.  I s’pose I am a terror!  But honest to goodness I can’t stand for those ticklers.  They get in my ears!”

Patty sighed.  She had grasped the situation the instant she first laid eyes on the girl, but somehow it seemed to be developing further difficulties all the time.

“Now, Azalea,” she began, “let me help you get your travelling dress off and put you into your kimono, and we’ll chat over a cup of tea.  Oh, you don’t like tea,—­will you have lemonade?”

“Yep.  Love it!  Plenty of sugar, though.”

Patty gave the order to Janet, who had appeared to look after the visitor, and turned back at the sound of Azalea’s loud, strident laughter.

“Kimono!  At six P.M.  That’s good.  Why, Cousin, I use my kim for a dressing gown, I ain’t going to bed,—­am I?”

“No, dear.  But we’ll have a more cosy time, I think, if you get off your travel things and have a refreshing bath.”

“Oh, well, I’ll take off this rig,—­I want to be choice of it, anyway.  You have dinner at night?”

“Yes, we always do.”

“Well, don’t make any change for me, as I said.  I ain’t accustomed to it, but I can stand it, I guess.  Nothing fazes me!”

Azalea took off her dress and looked at the skirt with concern.

“Some dusty,” she remarked, “but it’ll brush off.”

“Oh, yes; lay it on that chair.  Janet will look after it.”

“Brush it, you mean?”

“Yes; clean it and press it properly.”

“My land! does your servant do that?”

“Certainly.  And leave your street shoes out for her to attend to.”

“Oh,—­I see!  She’s a regular outfit!  Well, I never had a maid,—­but I guess I can stand one.”

Janet re-entered the room at this moment, and with an attempted air of grandeur, Azalea flung herself into a low chair, and stuck out her foot to have her shoe removed.