"I know it. I will wait for a more fitting time and place. You ought to be wooed in a sylvan glade----" "Oh, I'd rather a bosky dell! I've always been crazy to be wooed in a bosky dell. A leafy bower is the nearest I've come to it." "Who wooed you there?" "Can't remember exactly. But it was the third from the last,--I think." "You little witch! Do you know how fascinating you are?" "No; tell me." Patty was in mischievous mood, and looked up demurely at Blaney. "By Jove, I will! As soon as I can get you alone. Run away, now, and do your dance. And, listen; I command you to think of me at every step." "Can't promise that. It's all I can do to remember Mr. Grantham's steps; they're fearfully complicated. So--you think of me,--instead." With a saucy smile at Blaney, Patty slipped from her place, and went around to the dressing room. "Oh, here you are," cried Alla, who was waiting to help her dress; "I was just going to send for you. Now, off with your frock." Some fifteen or twenty minutes later, the audience sat in breathless anticipation of Patty's dance. Howard Grantham was a great artist, and never before had he been known to devise a dance for any one. But he had recognised Patty's skill in the art, and had requested that he be allowed to design a picture dance for her. The result was to be a surprise to all present, except the Blaneys, for rehearsals had been jealously kept secret. The lights in the room were low, and the stage, which was a small grove of evergreen trees, was dark. Then, through the trees, appeared slowly a faint, pink light, as of breaking dawn. Some unseen violins breathed almost inaudible strains of Spring-song music. Two trees at the back were slowly drawn apart as two small, white hands appeared among their branches. In the opening showed Patty's lovely face, eyes upturned, scarlet lips parted in a smile that was a joyous expression of youth and gladness. Still further she drew apart the lissome trees, and stepped through, a vision of spring itself. Clouds of chiffon swirled about her, softest dawn-rose in colour, changing of tints of heliotrope and primrose, as she swayed in graceful, pliant rhythm. Her slim white arms waved slowly, as the hidden melodies came faintly from the depth of the grove. Her pretty bare feet shone whitely among the soft pine needles and the steps of her dance were the very essence of poetry itself. The audience watched in silence, spellbound by the fair sight. Slowly she moved and swayed; then, as the music quickened, her steps grew more animated, her smile more bright, the lights were stronger, and the dance ended in a whirl of graceful pirouette and tossing, fluttering draperies. With no pause or intermission, Patty was changed to an impersonation of summer. It was done by the lights. Her robe was really of white chiffon, and as pink lights had made it appear in rosy tints, so now a deep yellow light gave the effect of sultry sunlight.