When they were ready, they walked down stairs, single file, with great pomp and dignity, to find awaiting them three polished young courtiers, who might have belonged to the Court of Versailles.

Ma’amselle herself was scarcely disguised, for in her ordinary costume she never strayed very far from the styles and materials of her beloved ancestors.

But she had on a royal robe, with a great jewelled collar, and strings of gems depending from her throat.  She wore a coronet that had belonged to some of the ladies of her family, and she seemed more than ever a chatelaine of a bygone day.

The rooms were decorated with flowers and plants, in honour of the occasion, and hundreds of wax lights added to the brilliancy of the scene.

An orchestra of stringed instruments played delightful music, and Patty tried to forget entirely that she lived in the twentieth century, and pretended that time had been turned back many, many years.

The guests began to arrive, and though their costumes were of great variety, they were nearly all of French effects, and quite in harmony with the scene.  Patty did not seem to care much to converse, or even to dance, but wandered around in a blissful state, enjoying the picturesque scene.

“Probably I shall never see anything like this again,” she thought to herself, “and I just want to gaze at it until it is photographed on my mind forever.  Oh, won’t it be fun to tell Nan and papa about it!”

Just then she saw Henri Labesse approaching her.

“I fear I shall be awkward, Mademoiselle,” he said, glancing at his arm in a sling, “but if you would forgive, and dance with me just once?”

“Of course I will,” said Patty, her kind heart full of sympathy for the poor fellow.  “We can manage quite nicely, I’m sure.”

Henri put his good arm round Patty’s waist, and lightly laying her hand on his shoulder, they glided away.  Like most Frenchmen, young Labesse was a perfect dancer, and as Patty was skilled in the art, they danced beautifully together and seemed to be in no way impeded by the young man’s broken arm.

“What a dance!” exclaimed Patty, as the music stopped; “I never met any one who dances as well as you do.  If you dance like that with one arm, what would do with two ?”

“All the merit of my dancing was due to my partner,” said Henri, with one of his best bows, “you are like a fluff of thistledown, or a will o’ the wisp.  Forgive me, but I had imagined that American ladies danced like—­like automobiles.”

Patty laughed.  “If you hadn’t already paid me such a pretty compliment,” she said, “I should be angry with you for that speech.  But if you wish to know the truth of the matter, go and dance with Elise and Rosamond, and then come back and tell me what you think of American dancing.”

Henri went away obediently, leaving Patty to decide among the group of partners who were begging her for a dance.