He wagged his head so sagaciously at this speech, that Patty was forced to smile. On a sudden impulse, she decided to speak frankly. "Suppose I tell you the truth, Mr. Lansing, that I'm not accustomed to being addressed in such--well, in such slangy terms." "Oh, is that it? Pooh, I'll bet those chums of yours talk slang to you once in a while." "What my chums may do is no criterion for an absolute stranger,"--and now Patty spoke very haughtily indeed. "That's so, Miss Fairfield; you're dead right,--and I apologise. But, truly, it's a habit with me. I'm from Chicago, and I believe people use more slang out there." "The best Chicago people don't," said Patty, seriously. Mr. Lansing smiled at her, a trifle whimsically. "I'm afraid I don't class up with the best people," he confessed; "but if it will please you better, I'll cut out the slang. Shall we have a turn at this two-step?" Patty rose without a word, and in a moment they were circling the floor. Mr. Lansing was a good dancer, and especially skilful in guiding his partner. Patty, herself such an expert dancer, was peculiarly sensitive to the good points of a partner, and she enjoyed the dance with Mr. Lansing, even though she felt she did not like the man. And yet he had a certain fascination in his manner, and when the dance was over, Patty looked at him with kinder eyes than she had when they began. But all that he had won of her favour he lost by his final speech, for as the dance ended, he said, brusquely: "Now, I'll tumble you into a seat, and chase my next victim." Patty stood looking after him, almost moved to laughter at what he had said, and yet indignant that a man, and a comparative stranger, should address her thus. "What's the matter, Lady Fair?" and Philip Van Reypen came up to her. "Methinks thou hast a ruffled brow." "No, it's my frock that's ruffled," said Patty, demurely. "You men know so little of millinery!" "That's true enough, and if you will smile again, I'll drop the subject of ruffles. And now for my errand; will you go out to supper with me?" "Goodness, is it supper time? I thought the evening had scarcely begun!" "Alas! look at the programme," and Van Reypen showed her that it was, indeed, time for intermission. "Intermission is French for supper," he said, gravely, "and I'd like to know if you'd rather sit on the stairs in good old orthodox party fashion, or if you'd rather go to the dining-room in state?" "Who are on the stairs?" "I shall be, if you are. You don't want to know more than that, do you?" The young man's gaze was so reproachful that Patty giggled. "You are a great factor in my happiness, Mr. Van Reypen," she said, saucily; "but you are not all the world to me! So, if I flock on the stairs with you, I must know what other doves will be perching there."