For some unexplained reason, Patty suddenly felt unwilling to tell what she had come for. Bill's letter was hidden in the folds of her voluminous blue gown, and she couldn't quite bring herself to tell Philip that she came down for that. "Oh, I was wakeful," she said, "and I came down to get a--a book." "H'm; and you thought you'd take a volume of the Britannica back with you, to read yourself to sleep?" Patty had to laugh at this, for in the corner where they were, the shelves contained nothing but cyclopaedias and dictionaries. "But they're really very interesting reading," she declared. "And this is the little girl who was so sleepy she had to run off to bed as soon as the party was over! Patty, Patty, I'm afraid you're not telling me the truth! Try again." "Well, then,--well, then, I came down because,--because I was hungry!" "Ah, that's better. Anybody has a right to be hungry, or even afraid of mice,--but no one has a right to lug a whole cyclopaedia upstairs to read oneself to sleep." "I wasn't going to take _all_ the volumes," said Patty, demurely, and then she jumped down from her perch. "I'll just see which one I do want," and pretending to read the labels, she deftly slipped her letter back between the volumes, unseen by Van Reypen. "You little goose, you," said Philip, laughing. "Stop your nonsense, and let's go and forage in the dining-room for something to eat. We might as well have some good food while we're about it." "But I'm not exactly in proper dinner garb," said Patty, shaking out her blue folds, and trailing her long robe behind her. "Nonsense! I don't know much about millinery, but you never wore anything more becoming than all that fiddly-faddly conglomeration of blue silk and white fur." "It isn't fur,--it's down." "Well, I said you were a goose,--so it's most appropriate." "But it's swansdown." "Well, be a swan, then! Be anything you like. But come on, let's make for the dining-room. We'll probably find Jim there, but don't make any noise, or everybody upstairs will think we're burglars and shoot us." Philip switched off the library light, and taking Patty's hand, led her through the dim hall and into the dining-room. At the end of this room was a wide bay window, which let in a perfect flood of moonlight. "Oh," exclaimed Patty, "what a picture! From my room you couldn't tell it was moonlight at all." The picture from the window was a far sweep of hills, white with snow, and glistening in the moonlight. In the foreground, evergreen trees, laden with snow, stood about like sentinels,--and a big, yellow three-quarter moon was nearing the western horizon. "Isn't it wonderful, Philip?" whispered Patty, almost awed at the sight. "Yes, dear," he said, still holding her hand in both his own. "Patty, you have a wonderful appreciation of the beautiful." "Nobody could help loving such a sight as that."