"I think, Toto," said Marjorie Schuyler to her toy ruby spaniel, "it will be June. There is only one thing you can do with October--a church wedding, chrysanthemums, and oak leaves. But June offers so many possible variations. Besides, that gives us both one last, untrammeled season in town. Yes, June it is; and we'll not have to think about these yet awhile." Whereupon she dropped the shimmering samples into the waste-basket. A maid pushed aside the hangings that curtained her den from the great Schuyler library. "There's a young person giving the name of O'Connell, asking to see you. Shall I say you are out?" "O'Connell?" Marjorie Schuyler raised a pair of interrogatory eyebrows. "Why--it can't be. The entire company went back weeks ago. What is she like--small and brown, with very pink cheeks and very blue eyes?" The maid nodded ambiguously. "Bring her up. I know it can't be, but--" But it was. The next moment Marjorie Schuyler was taking a firm grip of Patsy's shoulders while she looked down with mock disapproval at the girl who reached barely to her shoulder. "Patsy O'Connell! Why didn't you go home with the others--and what have you done to your cheeks?" Patsy attacked them with two merciless fists. "Sure, they're after needing a pinch of north-of-Ireland wind, that's all. How's yourself?" Marjorie Schuyler pushed her gently into a great chair, while she herself took a carved baronial seat opposite. The nearness of anything so exquisitely perfect as Marjorie Schuyler, and the comparison it was bound to suggest, would have been a conscious ordeal for almost any other girl. But Patsy was oblivious of the comparison--oblivious of the fact that she looked like a wood-thrush neighboring with a bird of paradise. Her brown Norfolk suit was a shabby affair--positively clamoring for a successor; the boyish brown beaver--lacking feather or flower--was pulled down rakishly over her mass of brown curls, and the vagabond gloves gave a consistent finish to the picture. And yet there was that about Patsy which defied comparison even with Marjorie Schuyler; moreover--a thrush sings. "Now tell me," said Marjorie Schuyler, "where have you been all these weeks?" Patsy considered. "Well--I've been taking up hospital training." "Oh, how splendid! Are you going over with the new Red Cross supply?" Patsy shook her head. "You see, they only kept me until they had demonstrated all they knew about lung disorders--and fresh-air treatment, and then they dismissed me. I'm fearsome they were after finding out I hadn't the making of a nurse." "That's too bad! What are you going to do now?" An amused little smile twitched at the corners of Patsy's mouth; it acted as if it wanted to run loose all over her face. "Sure, I haven't my mind made--quite. And yourself?" "Oh--I?" Marjorie Schuyler leaned forward a trifle. "Did you know I was engaged?"