“I say,” began young Pennington, conversationally, “we can’t let you go away, Patty.  Why, week after next we’re going to have the Pageant, and there are forty-’leven other pleasant doings before that comes off.”

“Yes,” chimed in Lora Sayre, “we can’t get along without our Pitty-Pat.  Do don’t go away, Sunshine!”

“But suppose I want to go,” said Patty, bravely trying to treat the subject lightly; “suppose I’m just crazy to go to that stunning big hotel up in the White Mountains, and have the time of my life!”

“Suppose the moon is made of green pumpkins!” scoffed Jack.  “You don’t want to go at all, and you know it!  And then, think of the girls,—­and boys,—­you leave behind you!  Your departure is a national calamity.  We mourn our loss!”

“We do so!” agreed Beatrice.  “Why, Patty, I’m going to have a house party next week, and we’ll have lots of fun going on.  Can’t you wait over for that?”

“No, I can’t,” and Patty spoke a little shortly, for these gay plans made her long more than ever to stay at Spring Beach.  “So don’t let’s talk any more about me.  Tell me about the Pageant,—­ will it be fine?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jack, “the biggest thing ever.  Sort of like a Durbar, you know, with elephants and—­”

“No, it isn’t going to be like that,” said Lora.  “They’ve given up that plan.  It’s going to be ever so much nicer than that!  They’re going to have—­”

“Don’t tell me!” cried Patty, laughing, as she clapped her hands over her ears.  “I’d rather not hear about it!  I suppose you’ll be queen of it, whatever it is, Lora?”

“I’ll have a chance at it, if you’re not here!  That’s the only comfort about your going away.  Somebody else can be the Belle of Spring Beach for a time.”

The good-natured laughter in Lora’s eyes took all sting from her words, and, indeed, it was an acknowledged fact that Pretty Patty was the belle of the little seashore colony.

“I’m awfully sorry about it,” began Nan, but Patty stopped her at once.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Madame Nan,” she cried, gaily; “these provincial young people don’t appreciate the advantages of travel.  They’d rather stay here in one place than jog about the country, seeing all sorts of grand scenery and sights!  Once I’m away from this place I shall forget all about its petty frolics and its foolish parties.”

“Yes, you will!” exclaimed Jack, not at all impressed by Patty’s statements, for he knew how untrue they were.

“And the Country Club summer dance!” said Beatrice, regretfully.  “Patty, how can you be reconciled to missing that?  It’s the event of the season!  A fancy dance, you know.  A sort of Kirmess.  Oh, don’t go away!”

“Don’t go away!” echoed Lora, and Jack broke into one of the improvised songs for which he was famous: