For the first time Patty realised that her hair was hanging about her shoulders and her costume was, to say the least, informal, and with another little squeal, she sprang back into her room and closed the window doors.

Then she went and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Well, you don’t look an absolute fright,” she said, to the smiling reflection she saw there.  “But to think of Bill being here!  Little Billee!  Bless his old heart!”

And then Patty flew at her toilet.  Everything had been laid in readiness, and she began to draw on her white silk stockings and dainty slippers.

She was sitting before her mirror, doing her hair, when the key turned and Adele came in.

“For goodness’ sake, Patty Fairfield!  Where did all these flowers come from?”

“They came in at the window, ma’am, before I closed it,” said Patty, demurely.

“Came in at the window!  Nonsense, how could they do that?”

“Oh, the breeze was awful strong, and it just blew them in.”

“Silly child!  But I say, Patty, hurry up and get dressed!”

“I am hurrying!” and Patty provokingly twisted up her curls with slow, deliberate motions.

“You’re not! you’re dawdling horribly!  But you wouldn’t, if you knew who was downstairs!”

“Who?”

“Oh, you’re very indifferent, aren’t you?  Well, you wouldn’t be so indifferent if you knew who’s downstairs.”

“Not, by any chance, Bill Farnsworth?”

“Yes! that’s just exactly who it is!  How did you ever guess?  Are you glad?”

“Yes, of course I am,” and Patty’s pink cheeks dimpled as she smiled frankly at Adele.  “I’m just crazy to see Bill again!”

“Look here, Patty,” and Adele spoke somewhat seriously, “I want to say something to you,—­and yet I hate to.  But I feel as if I ought to.”

“My stars!  Adele, what is the dreadful thing?”

Patty paused in her hairdressing and, with brush in one hand and mirror in the other, she stared at Adele.

“Why, you see, Patty, I know you do like Bill, and—­I don’t want you to like him too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.  It even sounds silly to say it to you, as a warning.  But, dear, I feel I must tell you.  He’s engaged.”

“Oh, is he?” Patty tossed her head, and then went on arranging her hair, but the pink flush on her cheek deepened.  “Are you sure?” she said, carelessly.

“Well, I’m not sure that he’s engaged, really,” and Adele wrinkled her pretty brow, as she looked at Patty; “but he told me last winter that all his life was bound up in Kitty, and he loved her with all his heart, or something like that.”

“Kitty who?”

“I can’t remember her other name, although he told me.”

“How did Bill happen to tell you this, Adele?”

“He was here, and I was chaffing him about one of the Crosby girls, and then he told me that about Kitty.  And somehow I thought you ought to know it.”