“Me for the last!” cried Mona.  “I’ve oceans to talk about with you, Patty.  Can’t we play all by ourselves for a little while?”

“Certainly,” said Patty, as she rose from the table.  “Mona and I are going to sit on the wistaria porch and gossip for half an hour.  After that, we’re all going to dance,—­and maybe sing.”

“Good enough programme,” agreed Van Reypen.  “For one half-hour, then, each may do as he or she wishes!”

“Yes, if you all promise to be back here in half an hour.”

“Make it an hour, Patty,” laughed Elise, who had her own plans.

“All right,” said Patty, carelessly, who cared only that her guests should enjoy themselves.

“I want to tell you something,” Mona said, as she and Patty at last were alone on the porch.  “Who is Azalea?”

“I call that asking, not telling,” laughed Patty; “however, I’ll reply.  She is Bill’s cousin,—­not first cousin, but the daughter of his father’s cousin.  So you see,—­a distant cousin.  Why?”

“I’ll tell you why.  Roger and I go to the ‘movies’ sometimes,—­and in a picture, the other night, we saw Azalea.”

“Saw Azalea!  You mean some one who looked like her.”

“No; Azalea Thorpe herself!  Roger and I both knew her at once.  And it was quite a new picture,—­taken recently, I mean.  Did you know she did such things?”

“No, and I can’t think she does.  It must have been only a remarkable resemblance, Mona.”

“No, Patty.  We’re positive.  And, too, she was doing Wild West stunts,—­riding bareback, shooting, throwing a lariat,—­all those things,—­and Azalea can, you know.”

“Yes, I know; and there is something queer going on.  It may be that when Azalea goes off for a day or part of a day, that’s where she goes.  But I can hardly believe it.  And why does she keep it so secret?”

“I suppose she thinks you and Bill wouldn’t approve.”

“And we certainly would not!  I don’t think it can be possible, Mona.  But don’t say anything to anybody,—­not even to Little Billee,—­until I can talk to Azalea, myself.  I can do lots with her, alone, but not if anybody else is present.”

“Where is she now?”

“Gone for a moonlight stroll with Phil.  He’s decidedly taken with her.”

“Yes, I know it.  He said so on the way up here.  He thinks she’s a fine girl—­and he admires those careless, unconventional ways of hers.”

“Well, I don’t,” Patty sighed.  “I like Azalea for lots of things,—­she’s good company and kind-hearted,—­and she’s devoted to Baby,—­but I can’t like those free and easy manners!  But she’s a whole lot better than when she first came!  Then she was really a wild Indian!  I’ve been able to tone her down a little.”

“You’ve done wonders for her, Patty.  She ought to be very grateful.”

Patty made a wry face.  “No, she isn’t grateful.  People never are grateful for that sort of thing.  And she doesn’t even know she’s different!  I’ve had to train her without her own knowledge!  But she’s chameleon-like, in some ways, and she picks up a lot just from being with mannerly people.”