Patty expected to go over to Mona’s at five o’clock, but at about four Mona herself came flying over to “The Pebbles.”  She waved a yellow telegram, and before Patty heard what was in it, she divined that Mrs. Parsons had again postponed her arrival.

And this was the truth.

“Doctor fears sunstroke.  Advises me to wait until to-morrow,” the message read, and Patty and Mona looked at each other in blank dismay.

“Father doesn’t know this,” said Mona.  “You see, he left this morning for New York.  His steamer sails this afternoon.  Of course, he was sure Aunt Adelaide would come to-day.  What shall we do, Patty?”

“Well, of course it’s too bad.  But I’m not afraid to stay alone one night without your aunt.  You’ve so many servants, I’m sure there’s no danger of fire or burglars.”

“Oh, it isn’t that, Patty!  I’m not afraid of such things.  But, you see, we’ve no chaperon,—­just us two girls there alone,—­it isn’t proper.”

“Well,” Patty laughed, “we can’t help it.  And if we have no callers, and go to bed early, no one will be the wiser, and surely, your aunt will come to-morrow.”

“Oh, I hope she will!  I’ll telegraph her she must!  But,—­Patty,—­ you see—­well, I shall have to tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“Why, just this:  I have invited a little party to welcome you this evening.  Not many,—­just about a dozen of the boys and girls.  And how can we receive them without Aunt Adelaide there?”

“For mercy’s sake, Mona!  Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,—­to welcome you to ‘Red Chimneys.’”

“Yes, I know.  Well, what can we do?  We must do something!  Shall I telephone to Mrs. Sayre to come and chaperon us?”

“She can’t come.  She has a house party coming to-day.  The Sayre girls are coming to us to-night, but Mrs. Sayre has some older guests, and she couldn’t come.”

“Well, let’s ask Mrs. Dennison.  No, she’s away, I know.  How about Mrs. Lockwood?”

“She’s ill; Lena told me so this morning.  Oh, Patty, shall I have to send them all word not to come?”

“Looks that way to me.  And I’m sorry to do that, too.  How many are asked, Mona?”

“About twelve, counting you and me.  I thought it would be such a nice welcome for you.”

“And so it would!  You’re a dear to think of it.  I suppose your things are all ordered?”

“Yes; a caterer will bring the supper.  I don’t know what it will be,—­cook looked after it.”

“Cook!  Cook!  Mona—­I have an idea!  No, I haven’t, either!  It’s too crazy!  Oh, do you suppose we could?  Let’s!”

“Patty, are you crazy?  What are you talking about?  And it’s almost five o’clock.  I suppose I must telephone them not to come!  Well, I’ll go home and do it, and you come on over as soon as you’re ready.  We’ll spend the evening alone in my boudoir, and we’ll amuse ourselves somehow.”