“No, don’t bother her to do that.  I’ve met her, you know, and if she either writes or telephones, it will be all right.  What time do we start?”

“About three, so as to make it easily by tea-time.”

“I’ll be ready.  Count on me.  Good-bye.”

Patty hung up the telephone suddenly, as she always did.  She often said it was her opinion that more time was wasted in this world by people who didn’t know how to say good-bye, than from any other cause.  And her minutes were too precious to be spent on a telephone, after the main subject of conversation had been finished.

She danced downstairs to tell Nan all about it.

“Very nice party,” Nan approved; “I’ve met Mrs. Perry, you know, and she’s charming.  You’ll be home Thursday, of course.  You know you’ve a theatre party that night.”

“Yes, I know; I’ll be home,” said Patty, abstractedly.  “What would you take for the ball, Nan?  My pink chiffon or my yellow satin?”

“They’re both so pretty, it’s hard to choose.  The yellow satin, I think; it’s a dream of a frock.”

Mrs. Perry wrote a most cordial invitation and also telephoned, saying how glad she would be to welcome Patty to her home.

And so, the next afternoon, the young people started on their motor trip.

It was easily accomplished in two hours, and then Patty found herself a very much honoured guest in Mrs. Perry’s pleasant home.

“It’s dear of you to come,” said the vivacious little hostess, as she took Patty and Marie to their rooms upon their arrival.

“It’s dear of you to ask me.” returned Patty; “I love to go to parties, and I love to go into new people’s houses,—­I mean people’s new houses,—­oh, well, you know what I mean; I mean here!”

“The house is new,” said Mrs. Perry, laughing, “but we’re getting to be old people, and we want you young folks to liven us up.”

“Old people!” and Patty smiled at the pretty young matron.

“Yes, wait till you see my baby.  She’s almost three years old!  Fancy my going to balls, with a big girl like that.”

“You’re just fishing,” said Patty, laughingly, “and I shan’t humour you.  I know you young mothers!  You go to a party, and you’re the belles, and leave all us wall-flowers green with envy!”

Mrs. Perry’s eyes twinkled, and she looked so roguish that Patty exclaimed, “You’re exactly like Mr. Cameron!  I can well believe you’re his sister.”

“Who’s he?  Oh, you mean Kit!  I don’t think I ever heard him called Mr. Cameron before, and it does sound so funny!  Can’t we persuade you to say Kit?”

“I don’t mind, if he doesn’t,” said Patty, carelessly.  “What a darling room this is!”

“Yes; this is one of my pet rooms.  I always give it to my favourite guests.”

“I don’t wonder,” and Patty looked round admiringly at the dainty draperies and pretty appointments of the chamber.