“Hello, Princess!” he cried.  “You’re a yellow poppy to-night,—­and a gay little blossom, too.”

“Not yellow poppyCHEEK!” cried Patty, rubbing her pink cheeks in mock dismay.

“Well, no; only one who is colour-blind could call those pink cheeks yellow.  May I pose beside you, here, and make a beautiful tableau?”

He sat beside Patty on the window-seat, and they wondered why the rest were so late.

“Prinking, I suppose,” said Kit.  “How did you manage to get ready so soon?”

“Why, just because I thought I was late, and so I hurried.”

“Didn’t know a girl could hurry,—­accept my compliments.”  And Kit rose and made an exaggerated bow.

“What’s going on?” said Dick Perry, gaily, as he came downstairs and paused on the landing.

“Only homage at the shrine of Beauty,” returned Kit.

“Let me homage, too,” said Mr. Perry, and they both bowed and scraped, until Patty went off in a gale of laughter and said:  “You ridiculous boys, you look like popinjays!  But here comes Marie; now more homage is due.”

Marie came down the steps slowly and gracefully, looking very pretty in pale green, with tiny pink rosebuds for trimming.

“Good for you, Marie!” exclaimed her cousin.  “Your dress gees with Miss Fairfield’s first-rate.  You’ll do!”

And then the others came, and the merry group went out to dinner.

After dinner they started at once for the country-club ball.  It was to be a very large affair, and, as Patty knew no one except their own house party, she declared that she knew she’d be a wall-flower.

“Wall-flower, indeed!” said Kit.  “Poppies don’t grow on walls.  They grow right in the middle of the field, and sway and dance in the breeze.”

“I always said you were a poet,” returned Patty, “and you do have the prettiest fancies.”

“I fancy you, if that’s what you mean,” Kit replied, and Patty gave him a haughty glance for his impertinence.

Then Babette put on Patty’s coat, which was a really gorgeous affair.  It was what is known as a Mandarin coat, of white silk, heavily embroidered with gold, and very quaint she looked in it.

“That thing must weigh a ton,” commented Kit.  “Why do you girls want to wear Chinese togs?”

“It’s a beautiful coat,” said Mrs. Perry, admiringly.  “Have you been to China, Miss Fairfield?”

“No; I never have.  This was a Christmas present, and I’m awfully fond of it.  I’m afraid I’m barbaric in my love of bright, glittering things.”

“A very civilised little barbarian,” said Mr. Perry, and then they all went off to the ball.

“How many may I have?” said Kit, as he took Patty’s programme from her hand after they were in the ballroom.

“As I don’t know any one else, I shall have to dance them all with you and Ken,” returned Patty, demurely.

“Never mind Harper; give them all to me.”