“I have nothing to confess or confide, Cousin William,” said Azalea, putting on a haughty air.  “I refuse to be accused of wrong-doing, when I am not guilty of it,—­and I will bring my visit here to an end at once!  I will leave to-morrow!”

“Oh, pshaw, Zaly, don’t go off so suddenly!” Farnsworth laughed lightly, for he had said a little more than he meant to, and he realised, too, that this was neither the time nor the place to have such a serious talk with the girl.

“Come along now, and have tea with us all in the tea-house,” he said.  “Forget your bad, cruel cousin’s scoldy ways, and as to the mysterious man, I’ll trust your word that he’s all right.”

“Oh, thank you, Cousin!” Azalea fairly beamed now.  “How good you are!  I’ll tell you all about it,—­some day!”

So the matter rested for the moment, and the two went to join the merry group around the tea-table.

The Fair drew to a brilliant close.  The second evening was even more gay and festive than the first.  Everything was sold out,—­or, if not, it was disposed of by auction after the time-honoured method of Fairs.

Much money had been accumulated for the good cause, and though tired, the workers were jubilant over the success of Vanity Fair.

“I shall sleep late to-morrow morning,” declared Patty, as, after all the guests were gone, the house party started for bed.

“Me, too,” agreed Elise.  “I’m glad you haven’t anybody staying here but us.  No house guests, I mean, but just Zaly and me.”

“I’m glad, too,” said Patty.  “You see, I expected Father and Nan, but they’ve changed their plans and will remain in California another month.”

“They’re having a gorgeous trip, aren’t they?”

“Yes, indeed, but I wish they’d ever get home!  Just think, Father has never seen Fleurette!”

“She’ll be a big girl when they do see her.  She’s growing like a little weed.”

“Like a little flower, you mean!  Don’t you just love her name, Elise?”

“Fleurette?  Little Flower?  Of course I do.  The sweetest ever.  Does Bill still call you Patty Blossom?”

“Yes, at times.  Oh, he calls me ’most any old thing!  He makes up new names for both of us every day!  Come along, Zaly, you’re dropping from sheer weariness.  Time for little girls like you to go beddy!”

Affectionately Patty put her arm round the girl, and led her away upstairs.

“Sleep well,” she said, as she left Azalea in her own room.  “And don’t come downstairs in the morning before ten or eleven.  I’m sure I shan’t.  The servants will clear everything up, and Bill will oversee it.  I hate the aftermath of a Fair,—­don’t you?”

Azalea nodded agreement, and Patty kissed her good-night and went off.

But it was only eight o’clock the next morning when Azalea crept softly downstairs.  She was neatly attired in a cloth suit, with a fresh white shirtwaist and a pretty hat.