After supper there was dancing, and Patty was besieged by would-be partners. Good-naturedly she fractioned her dances, and even divided the short intermissions between them. Everybody wanted to dance with the smiling little person in red velvet, and her pretty gaiety salved the wounds of those whom she was obliged to refuse. At last, Farnsworth came to her, and his determined expression told Patty he was about to lay down the law. Sure enough, he took her hand in his, drew it through his arm, and led her out of the dancing room. "Without even a 'by your leave?'" and Patty looked up at him, inquiringly. "Without it or with it. But you can't dance any more tonight. You're so tired you can scarcely stand up now." "That's so, now that you speak of it. But I hadn't realised it." "Of course you hadn't. You're crazy, when it comes to dancing!" "Well, you're not. You haven't danced with me once tonight, except that old country dance." "Did you want me to? Were you lacking for partners?" "_Me_! Lacking for partners! Am I, usually?" "Oh, Patty, what a little Vanity Box you are! No, you never lack for partners or attention or flattery,--all you ever lack is a little common sense." "Why-ee! Little Billee! I've always prided myself on my common sense. But where are you taking me?" "Not very far. There's a comfy window-seat in this little reception room, where you can rest a bit, then I'm going to send you home." "Oh, you are! And who constituted you my Major Domo, or Commanding Officer, or Father Superior, or whoever it is that orders people about?" "I don't order; I persuade, or induce, by power of my irresistible charm." Farnsworth's blue eyes twinkled, and Patty laughed outright, as she said, "Yes, I noticed the irresistibility as I left the Blaneys' tonight!" "And, that's the very subject I was about to discourse upon,--the Blaneys, I mean. But first, let me make you comfy." Farnsworth led Patty to the spacious, cushioned window-seat, and piled soft pillows at her back, and tucked an ottoman beneath her feet, and then sat down beside her. The little room was deserted by the dancers, and though some of the guests strolled in and out, occasionally, there was ample opportunity for real conversation. "It's this way, Patty," Farnsworth began. "I know Sam Blaney, and you don't. I knew him years ago, and though I've not seen him of late years, he's the same old two and sixpence." "And a very attractive two and sixpence," declared Patty, an obstinate expression coming into her face. "You see, Little Billee, either you like wise, brainy people, or you don't. I do." "I know you do, and so do I. But the Blaney crowd are neither wise nor brainy. They are frauds." "Do you mean conscious frauds? Wilfully deceptive?" "To a certain degree, yes. They do fool themselves, sometimes, into thinking they are sincere, but they can't even fool themselves all the time,--let alone other people."