And when at last, ready for bed, she stood in front of her long cheval glass, the folds of her blue dressing gown trailing away from her pretty, lace-frilled nightgown, she shook her forefinger warningly at the smiling reflection.

“Now, mind you, Patricia, not a whimper out of you to-morrow!  Not a shadow of a shade of disappointment on your fair young brow?  Only happy smiles and pleasant words, and just make yourself enjoy the prospect of those poky, gloomy, horrid old mountains!”

It will be easily seen that Patty was amenable to discipline, for next morning she went dancing downstairs, looking like amiability personified.  Even Nan came to the conclusion that Patty was reconciled to the mountain trip, and had begun to see the pleasanter side of it.

Mr. Fairfield regarded his daughter approvingly.  Though Patty had not been cross or glum the day before, she had been silent, and now she treated her hearers to a flood of gay and merry chatter.

Only a fleeting shadow across her face, or a sudden, pained look in her eyes when Spring Beach matters were mentioned, revealed to her watchful father the fact that Patty’s gaiety was the result of brave and honest will-power.  But such shadows passed as quickly as they came, and the girl’s pleasant and sweet demeanour was not unappreciated by her elders.

She joined heartily in the plans for the mountain trip; discussed itineraries with her father, and costumes with Nan.

As the three sat on the veranda, thus engaged, a flying figure came through the gate like a whirlwind, and Mona Galbraith precipitated herself into the family group.

“Why, Mona, you look a little,—­er,—­hasty!” exclaimed Patty as, out of breath, their visitor plumped herself into a swing and twirled its tasselled ropes, while she regained her breath.

“Yes,—­yes,—­and well I may!” she panted.  “What do you think, Patty?  Oh, Mr. Fairfield, do say yes!  Coax him to, won’t you, Mrs. Fairfield!  Oh, I can’t tell you,—­I daren’t!  I just know you won’t do it!  Oh, Patty, do,—­do!”

Impetuous Mona had swayed out of the swing in her eagerness, and was now kneeling by Patty’s side, stroking her hand, and gazing into her face with imploring eyes.

“Mona Galbraith,” said Patty, laughing, “are you rehearsing for melodrama, or what?  For, if so, you don’t know your lines, and you’re ’way off on your gestures, and—­and, as a whole, your act is not convincing.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Patty!” exclaimed Mona, laughing herself.  “Anything but that!  It must be convincing,—­it must,—­it must!”

“Is it meant for a roaring farce?” asked Mr. Fairfield, politely, “or merely high comedy?”

“I think it’s a problem play,” said Nan, laughing anew at the excited visitor, who had returned to the swing, and was vigorously pushing herself back and forth with her slippered toe.