Pattys Suitors | Page 9

in a pretty travelling gown, but Patty carried her
off at once and insisted that she get into a house gown.
"The idea," said Patty, "of a hostess in a high-collared frock and all her guests in evening
dress!"
So Christine quickly changed to a little chiffon gown of pale green and Patty tucked a
pink rose in her hair and some more in her belt.
"Now you look like a bride," said Patty, nodding approval at her, and leading her to a
mirror; "look at that vision of beauty! Aren't you glad I made you change?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Christine, in mock humility; "it's much better so."

The evening was a merry one. They danced and they sang and they chatted and finally
they had the delightful supper that Patty had ordered.
Christine, blushing prettily, took the head of the table, while Gilbert Hepworth, with a
proud air of proprietorship, sat at the other end.
Patty, as guest of honour, sat at the right hand of her host.
"It has always been my aspiration," she said, with a beaming smile at Christine, "to have
a married friend to visit. I warn you, Christine, I shall spend most of my time here.
There's one little nook of a bedroom I claim as my own and I expect to occupy it very
frequently. And, besides, I have to give you lessons in housekeeping. You're a great artist,
I know, but you must learn to do lots of other things beside paint."
"I wish you would, Patty," and the little bride looked very much in earnest; "I truly want
to keep house, but being an artist and a Southern girl both, I don't believe I'm very
capable."
"You're a blessed dear, that's what YOU are"; and Patty turned to Hepworth, saying,
"Isn't she?"
"Yes, indeed," he returned; "I've only just begun to realise the beautiful qualities in her
nature. And it is to you, Patty, that I owe my happiness. I shall never forget what you did
in order that Christine might come to New York."
"And now we are surprised at the result," said Patty, who never could be serious for long
at a time. "Come on, people, you've had enough supper, let's have one more dance and
then we must go home and leave these turtledoves to their own nest."
But the one dance proved to mean several, until at last Patty said, "This will never do!
Christine is all tired out, and as the superintendent of this party I order you all to go home
at once."
The others laughingly agreed, except Philip Van Reypen, who came near Patty and
murmured, "You haven't danced with me once to-night, and you've been awful cruel to
me lately, anyway. Now let us have one more dance in honour of the bride's
home-coming."
"No," said Patty, firmly, "not another dance to-night."
"Just a part of one, then," begged Philip; but Patty was inexorable.
And so the merry crowd dispersed, Patty lingering a moment to give Christine a
good-night kiss and wish her every blessing and happiness in her new home.
"And I have you to thank for it all, Patty dear," said Christine, her blue eyes looking
lovingly into Patty's own.

"Nonsense, thank your own sweet self. You well deserve the happiness that has come to
you. And now good-night, dear; I'll be over some time to-morrow."
The laughing group went away, and as it had been planned, Mona took Patty home in her
car.
"I wish you'd go on home with me, Patsy," said Mona, as they rolled along toward Patty's
house.
"Can't possibly do it. I've a thousand and one things to look after to-morrow morning."
"But it isn't late; really it's awfully early. And I'll send you home early to-morrow
morning."
"No, I mustn't, really, Mona. I have to look after some things for the Happy Saturday
Club, which it won't do to neglect. And I want to run over to Christine's to-morrow
morning, too. I have some things to take to her."
"Do you know, Patty, I think they're an awfully humdrum couple."
"Who? The Hepworths? Oh, I don't think humdrum is the right word,-- they're just
serious-minded."
"But Mr. Hepworth is so old and prosy, and Christine seems to me just a little nonentity."
"Now, Mona, that isn't fair. Just because you are a frivolous-headed butterfly of fashion,
you oughtn't to disdain people who happen to have one or two ideas in their heads."
"Well, the only ideas they have are about pictures."
"Pictures are good ideas."
"Yes, good enough, of course. But there's no fun in them."
"That's the whole trouble with the Hepworths. They haven't any fun in them. Neither of
them has a sense of humour. But that's good, too; for if one had and the