But the one dance proved to mean several, until at last Patty said, “This will never do!  Christine is all tired out, and as the superintendent of this party I order you all to go home at once.”

The others laughingly agreed, except Philip Van Reypen, who came near Patty and murmured, “You haven’t danced with me once to-night, and you’ve been awful cruel to me lately, anyway.  Now let us have one more dance in honour of the bride’s home-coming.”

“No,” said Patty, firmly, “not another dance to-night.”

“Just a part of one, then,” begged Philip; but Patty was inexorable.

And so the merry crowd dispersed, Patty lingering a moment to give Christine a good-night kiss and wish her every blessing and happiness in her new home.

“And I have you to thank for it all, Patty dear,” said Christine, her blue eyes looking lovingly into Patty’s own.

“Nonsense, thank your own sweet self.  You well deserve the happiness that has come to you.  And now good-night, dear; I’ll be over some time to-morrow.”

The laughing group went away, and as it had been planned, Mona took Patty home in her car.

“I wish you’d go on home with me, Patsy,” said Mona, as they rolled along toward Patty’s house.

“Can’t possibly do it.  I’ve a thousand and one things to look after to-morrow morning.”

“But it isn’t late; really it’s awfully early.  And I’ll send you home early to-morrow morning.”

“No, I mustn’t, really, Mona.  I have to look after some things for the Happy Saturday Club, which it won’t do to neglect.  And I want to run over to Christine’s to-morrow morning, too.  I have some things to take to her.”

“Do you know, Patty, I think they’re an awfully humdrum couple.”

“Who?  The Hepworths?  Oh, I don’t think humdrum is the right word,—­ they’re just serious-minded.”

“But Mr. Hepworth is so old and prosy, and Christine seems to me just a little nonentity.”

“Now, Mona, that isn’t fair.  Just because you are a frivolous-headed butterfly of fashion, you oughtn’t to disdain people who happen to have one or two ideas in their heads.”

“Well, the only ideas they have are about pictures.”

“Pictures are good ideas.”

“Yes, good enough, of course.  But there’s no fun in them.”

“That’s the whole trouble with the Hepworths.  They haven’t any fun in them.  Neither of them has a sense of humour.  But that’s good, too; for if one had and the other hadn’t, they’d be miserable for life.  But as it is they don’t know what they miss.”

“No, they don’t.  Patty, don’t ever marry a man without a sense of humour.”

“Trust your Aunt Patty for that.  But I don’t propose to marry anybody.”

“Of course not; he’d propose to you.”

“Funny Mona!  Don’t let your sense of humour run away with you.  Well, this facetious ‘he’ that you conjured up in your imagination may propose all he likes; I sha’n’t accept him,—­at least not for many years.  I mean to have a lot of fun before I get engaged.  Can you imagine me settled down in a little apartment like Christine’s, devoting myself to domestic duties?”