"Why, yes, of course I do," said Patty, smiling, "that is, after papa and Aunt Alice and Marian and Uncle Charley and Frank and Mancy and Pansy--and Mr. Hepworth." Patty might not have added the last name if she had not just then seen that gentleman coming toward her. He looked at Patty with an especial kindliness in his eyes, and said gently: "Miss Fairfield, may I see your card?" Patty flushed a little and her eyes fell. "Please don't talk like that," she said. "I'm not grown up, if I am dressed up. I'm only Patty, and if you call me anything else I'll run away." "Don't run away," said Mr. Hepworth, still looking at her with that grave kindliness that seemed to have about it a touch of sadness. "I will call you Patty as long as you will stay with me." Then Patty smiled again, quite her own merry little self, and gave him her card, saying: "Put your name down a lot of times, please; you are a beautiful dancer, and I like best to dance with the people I know best." "I wish I had a rubber stamp," said Mr. Hepworth; "it's very fatiguing to write one's name on every line." "Oh, good gracious!" cried Patty, "don't take them all. I want to save a lot for Frank and Ken--" "And your father," said Mr. Hepworth. "Papa? He doesn't dance--at least, I never saw him." "But he did dance that last waltz, with Miss Allen." "With Nan? Well, then, I rather think he can dance with his own daughter. Don't take any more; I want all the rest for him, and please take me to him." "Here he comes now. Mr. Fairfield, your daughter wishes a word with you." "Papa Fairfield!" exclaimed Patty, "you never told me you could dance!" "You never asked me; you took it for granted that I was too old to frisk around the ballroom." "And aren't you?" asked Patty teasingly. "Try me and see," said her father, as he took her card. The trial proved very satisfactory, and Patty declared that she must have inherited her own taste for dancing from her father. The evening passed all too swiftly. Pretty Patty, with her merry ways and graceful manners, was a real belle, and Aunt Alice was besieged by requests for introductions to her niece and daughter. But Marian, though a sweet and charming girl, had a certain shyness which always kept her from becoming an immediate favourite. Patty's absolute lack of self-consciousness and her ready friendliness made her popular at once. Mr. Fairfield and Nan Allen were speaking of this, as they stood out on the veranda and looked at Patty through the window. "She's the most perfect combination," Miss Allen was saying, "of the child and the girl. She has none of the silly affectations of young-ladyhood, and yet she has in her nature all the elements that go to make a wise and sensible woman."