“Well!” remarked Miss Patricia Fairfield, aloud.  “Well!  Hooray for you, Little Billee!  I didn’t know you had it in you to act like that!  But”—­and her face clouded a little—­“I suppose your head is so full of Kitty Morton that you don’t care what becomes of Patty Fairfield!  H’m.”

Patty sat still for some time, thinking over this new episode.  She had been rude to Farnsworth, and she had done it purposely.  But she was accustomed to having young men laugh at her pertness and chuckle over her sauciness.

One or two cars passed her, but as she scrutinised the drivers, they did not seem to be just the type of whom she cared to ask help; but presently a small car came toward her, driven by a frank-looking, pleasant-faced young man.

“Hello,” he called out with the camaraderie of the road; “had a breakdown?  Want some help?”

“Yes, sir,” and Patty spoke in a timid, subdued voice.

“Then I’m your man,” he said, as he jumped out and came over to her car.  “My name’s Peyton,” he went on, “Bob Peyton, and very much at your service.  What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know, sir,” and Patty surrendered to a mischievous impulse; “I’m Mrs. Hemingway’s maid; Mrs. Hemingway, sir, she can run the car, but I can’t.”

“Where is Mrs. Hemingway?”

“When the car broke down, sir, she said she would go for help.  I think she went to that house over there.”

“H’m!  And so you’re her maid.  Personal maid, do you mean?”

“Not exactly, sir.  I’m her new waitress, she was just taking me home, sir.”

Patty didn’t know why she was talking this rubbish, but it popped into her head, and the young man’s eyes were so twinkly and gay, she felt like playing a joke on him.  She thought he would fix her car, and then she would thank him and ride away, without having given her real name.

“Ah, my good girl,” Mr. Peyton said, “and so you are a waitress.  What is your name?”

“Suzette, sir.  I’m French.”

“Yes, I can see that by looking at you!  Well, Suzerte, are you an experienced waitress?”

“Oh, yes, sir.  I’ve worked in the best families and in,—­and in hotels and—­and—­”

“And on oceans liners, I presume!  Well, Suzette, here’s a proposition.  My sister wants a waitress, awfully.  Hers has just left.  If you will go along with me to my sister’s house, she will pay you twice what your previous mistress did.”

Patty appeared to consider the question.

“Who is your sister, sir?”

“Mrs. Brewster; she lives in that next place, where you see the red brick chimneys.”

Now Patty knew all about the Brewsters, although she had never met them.  They were great friends of the Kenerleys, and indeed the whole house party was invited to dine at the Brewsters’ the next night.  Adele, too, had spoken about Bob Brewster’s brother, and Patty realised they were friends and neighbours.