“Patty, you’re a wonder!” her hostess remarked, with conviction.  “Can you always do everything you undertake?  But I know you can.  I never saw any one like you!”

“No,” said Patty, complacently.  “They don’t catch ’em like me very often.  But, I say, Mona, wasn’t Susan just a peach?  Though if Jack Pennington hadn’t helped, I don’t know how she would have behaved at the supper table.”

“Isn’t he a nice young man, Patty?”

“Lovely.  The flower of chivalry, and the glass of form, or whatever it is.  But he’s a waggish youth.”

“Well, he’s kind.  Patty, I’m going to have a house party, and he’s going to help me!”

“You don’t say!  My dear Mona, you are blossoming out!  But you haven’t asked my permission yet.”

“Oh, I know you’ll agree to anything Jack Pennington favours.”

“Sure, I will!  But he seems to favour you, and I don’t always agree with you!”

“Well, anyway, Patty, it will be perfectly lovely,—­and we’ll have a gorgeous time!”

“Where do I come in?  Providing cooks for chaperons?”

“Nonsense!  Aunt Adelaide will come to-morrow, and she’ll do the chaperon act.  Now, I’ll tell you about the house party.”

“Not to-night, Lady Gay.  It’s time for you to go beddy, and I, too, need my beauty sleep.”

“You need nothing of the sort,—­you’re too beautiful as it is!”

“Oh, Mona,—­Monissima!  Don’t say those things to me!  I’m but a weak-minded simpleton, and I might think you meant them, and grow conceited!  Hie thee away, fair maiden, and hie pretty swiftly, too.  And call me not to breakfast foods until that the sun is well toward the zenith.”

“You needn’t get up till you choose, Patty.  You know you are mistress here.”

“No, you’re that.  I’m merely the adviser-in-chief.  And what I say goes!”

“Indeed it does!  Good-night, Patty.”

“Good-night, Mona.  Scoot!”

CHAPTER VI

AUNT ADELAIDE

The next morning Patty was making one of her “peregrinating toilettes.”  She could dress as quickly as any one, if occasion required; but, if not, she loved to walk slowly about as she dressed, pausing now and then to look out of a window or into a book.  So she dawdled through her pretty rooms, brushing her curly golden mop, and singing softly to herself.

“Come in,” she said, in answer to a tap at her door, and Mona burst in, in a wild state of excitement.

“Aunt Adelaide has arrived!” she exclaimed.

“Well, that isn’t a national calamity, is it?” returned Patty.  “Why this look of dismay?”

“Wait till you see her!  She’s a National Calamity!”

“Well, then, we must get Susan back again!  But what’s wrong with your noble aunt?”

“Oh, Patty, she’s so queer!  I haven’t seen her for some years, but she’s not a bit as I remembered her.”