"Lots of people get hit when they don't deserve it," said Kenerley. "But don't use our barn, Hal, use the neighbour's. Because under your tuition, your pupils might get proficient enough to hit it." "I'm so glad to be here when it isn't winter," said Patty, looking around her. They were having tea on one of the wide verandas, which, though still enclosed with glass, had many panes open to the spring air. "From now on, it's lovely here," said Adele; "almost every day we have one more sash open and then pretty soon we take them all out." "It was lovely last winter, when we had tea by the hall fireplace, but this is better still," and Patty leaned back in her Japanese wicker easy-chair and nibbled contentedly at her plate of little cakes. The tea hour at the Kenerleys' was always a pleasant affair, and in warm weather neighbours from the nearby country houses were apt to stroll over. On this occasion two or three came and Patty became acquainted with several young ladies. "You know what I told you," said Adele to Patty, after they had left. "We have plenty of girls around here, but not many men. So for the May-party, I want you to ask a few of your friends to come up." "All right, I will; the boys will all be glad to come. Which ones do you want?" "I've already asked Roger Farrington, and we'll see about the others later." "All right," said Patty, carelessly; "I've one or two new friends whom I'm sure you will like." The next day Patty had a brilliant idea for a joke on Kit Cameron. It popped into her head quite suddenly, and she gleefully told her scheme to Adele and Daisy, as they sat together in Adele's own pleasant sitting-room. "Doesn't Mr. Cameron know you're up here?" asked Adele. "No; I haven't seen him for a week or two. He went South with the Homers and only came home the day I left." The plan was carefully thought out, amid giggling and laughter, and the final result was achieved by Patty in the form of a much scribbled letter. "Now I'm going down to copy this on Jim's typewriter," she said. And she flew downstairs to the library, from which opened a small office fitted up for Mr. Kenerley's home use. Jim Kenerley had gone to business, and Van Reypen and Hal Ferris were playing golf, so Patty had the place to herself; and by dint of slow but persevering pounding on the typewriter, she picked out the following missive: "Mr. Christopher Cameron: DEAR MR. CAMERON,