He was sitting upon the edge of a trunk, regarding in dismay the confusion around him and wondering where to make a start, when the bell rang vigorously.  He opened the door in surprise, and was relieved to find no more formidable a visitor than the elevator boy.

“A young lady down-stairs to see you, sir.”

“A—­what?” demanded Allen.

“She wouldn’t give her name, sir.”

“I’ll be right down,” he cried, slamming the door unceremoniously in the boy’s face, and rushing into his coat and waistcoat.  Could it be that Alice had really meant what she said that night, and had come to convince him of it!  There was a girl for you!  He would never accept the sacrifice, he told himself resolutely, still he fairly danced as he straightened his necktie, tripped over his evening clothes, which he had knocked onto the floor, and almost stumbled over a little figure in the hallway, as he threw open the door and started to rush to the elevator.

“They wouldn’t let me come up in the elevator, so I walked,” announced Patricia, looking up at him with a beaming smile.

“What are you doing here?  Is Alice down-stairs?” Allen demanded, completely bewildered by the unexpected apparition.

“I’ve come to go away with you, and Alice is at home,” the child answered, simply.  “Papa said you were going back to Pittsburgh.  Aren’t you glad to see me?  I’ve got all my things packed up in this bag, except my Knights of the Round Table, which wouldn’t go in, so I carried it under my arm.”

He looked at her, speechless with astonishment as she proudly held up the diminutive satchel and displayed her precious volume.

“Of course I’m glad to see you, Lady Pat,” he said at length; “but you ought not to come here alone, you know.”

“I’m not alone,” she insisted.  “Riley is down-stairs in my pony cart.  Phillips didn’t know where you lived, but he’s only a groom, so I brought Riley.  Now, how shall we get rid of him, and have you made a hundred thousand dollars with my money?”

“I’m ashamed to say I haven’t—­I was too late.  The storks had all gone South for the winter, but I must give you back your bank.”

Allen turned into his room, closely followed by Patricia.

“Then you haven’t money enough to get married?” she asked in a pathetic little voice.  Suddenly her face brightened.  “But I don’t mind; I’ll keep house for you without any money; and storks always come to newly married people, I’ve heard them say so.”

“We couldn’t do that, Lady Pat; we’d starve to death unless we ate the storks.  Come, let’s go and find Riley.”

But Riley’s anxiety had resulted in his anticipating them, and the familiar face at that moment showed above the stairway, as the old man approached them, out of breath.

“Ah, there ye are, praise be ter th’ Virgin Mary,” he panted.  “Ah, sich a mess as ye’re gettin’ poor old Riley in.  I cudn’t hilp it, Misther Allen, I cudn’t nohow,” heading off any criticism from that quarter—­“she wud have it, and that’s th’ ind iv it.  I’m thinkin’ that’s why they named her Miss Pat—­’tis th’ Irish persistency iv her name that crops out, an’ th’ cajolery.  I cudn’t hilp it, nohow.”