“Not more than the usual.  Young ladies are born to be the trouble-makers,” responded Louise.

“Because I didn’t want to.  And I should like some one to be sorry I am going,” said Anne.  “Here is the silver piece Mr. Patterson gave me.  You take it, Louise.  Would you mind—­won’t you kiss me good-by, Louise, and can you miss me one little bit?”

“A thousand thanks, little one!” exclaimed Louise.  “How droll you are!  I will give you many kisses with all the good will.  Yes, and I do grieve to see you go, you alone little one!”

The return voyage was rough and stormy.  Mr. Patterson was half-sick and wholly miserable all the way.  He lay pale and silent in his steamer chair, trying to rouse himself now and then to talk with Pat about subjects of schoolboy interest.  But it was an effort and Pat felt it so; after a few restless minutes, he was apt to say:—­

“Excuse me, father, I’ve thought of something I want to tell Anne.”

“Please tell me when it’s ten o’clock, father; Anne and I are to play ring-toss.”

“Anne has been telling a ripping story.  I’ll go and hear some more of it, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Patterson did mind.  He was, though he did not confess it to himself, jealous of Anne for whom his son was always so ready and eager to leave him.  He justified to himself his dislike of the child by recalling the jewel episode.

Anne had not given him even the half-way explanation that Mademoiselle Duroc had obtained.  She was going to tell Miss Drayton—­how she longed to see that good friend and pour forth the story!  But Mr. Patterson asked no questions and it never occurred to her to offer him any information.  She had given him her precious packet and asked him to take charge of it, according to Mademoiselle’s suggestion.  He had accepted the charge reluctantly, as a matter of necessity.  As soon as they passed the custom-house in New York, he sealed the articles in an envelope which he handed to Anne, saying curtly:  “You had these before; take them again.”

Mr. Patterson, Pat, and Anne took the first south-bound train, and a few hours later found them in Washington.  Passing from the noble Union Station, they took an Avenue car and whirled past Peace Monument, between the shabby buildings on the right and the Botanical Gardens on the left.  Mr. Patterson sat in frowning silence.  A sorry home-coming this.  How eager he had been in former days to reach the old home in Georgetown, which now was closed and silent.  Ah! he must try not to think about that.  He pulled himself together and rang the bell.

“We are going to stop at the Raleigh,” he said, in answer to Pat’s surprised look.  “Our house is shut up, you know.  I’ll have you children sent to your rooms.  I must get off some telegrams and attend to some business.  We’ll get out of this hot hole to-morrow.”

Pat pleaded and was allowed to take Anne for a sight-seeing ride.  What a gay time they had!  Everything delighted Anne—­the stately Capitol, the gold-domed Library of Congress, the noble-columned Treasury Building, the sky-pointing Washington Monument, the broad streets over-arched with stately trees, the grassy squares and flower-bordered circles dotted with statues.