“Call me Bill, oh, do call me Bill!”

“Why should I?”

“Because I want you to; and because I think you might make that much concession to my Western primitiveness and unceremoniousness.”

“But I don’t like the name of Bill.  It’s so,—­so—­”

“So uncouth?  Yes, it is.  But I’m not the sort to be called William.  Well, do call me something pleasant and amiable.”

“I’ll call you Little Billee.  That’s Thackeray’s, and therefore, it’s all right.  Now, can you slip me back into my own apartments as quietly as you took me away?”

“Of course I can, as it’s nearly dark now.  Here we go!”

He aided her up the stairs, and along the balcony to her own windows.  Patty sprang lightly over the low sill, and waved her hand gaily as she pulled down her blinds and flashed on the electric lights.  Then she rang for Janet, and found that a hurried toilette was necessary if she would be prompt at dinner.

One of Patty’s prettiest evening frocks was a dainty French thing of white chiffon, decked with pale green ribbons and exquisite artificial apple blossoms made of satin.  With a smile at the memory of Farnsworth’s allusion to apple blossoms, she put it on, and twisted a wreath of the same lovely flowers in her golden crown of curls.

Then she danced downstairs to find the Western man awaiting her.  He looked very handsome in evening clothes, and the easy unconsciousness of his pose and manner made him seem to Patty the most attractive man she had ever seen.

“I’ve arranged it with Mona,” he said, straightforwardly, “and I’m to take you in to dinner.  I want to sit next to you.”

But Patty had caught sight of Daisy Dow, and the angry gleam in that young woman’s eyes warned Patty that Farnsworth’s plan boded trouble.

Moreover, perverse Patty objected to being appropriated so calmly, and with a deliberate intent to pique Farnsworth, she replied, gaily: 

“Nay, nay, fair sir; it suits me not, thus to be parcelled out.  We Eastern girls are not to be had for the asking.”

The smile she flashed at him brought an answering smile to Farnsworth’s face, but as he stepped forward to urge her to grant his wish, Patty slipped her hand in Roger’s arm, and joined the others who were already going to the dining-room.

She had quickly seen that this move on her part would leave Farnsworth no choice but to escort Daisy Dow, for Roger had been assigned to that fair maiden.

“What’s up?” enquired Roger, as he obediently followed Patty’s whispered order to “come along and behave yourself.”

“Nothing,” returned Patty, airily; “I have to have my own way, that’s all; and as my old friend and comrade, you have to help me to get it.”

“Always ready,” declared Roger, promptly, “but seems to me, Pitty-Pat, the colossal cowboy is already a Willing Willy to your caprices.”

“Don’t be silly, Roger.  He’s so unused to our sort of society that he’s willing to bow down at the shrine of any pretty girl.”