Patty was dressing for the party at the Blaneys', and Sam was coming to take her.

"You'll like him, Nan, you can't help it. He is most interesting,--not a bit like other men. And they have such delightful people at their parties. They do big things, you know,--really big."

"Such as what?"

"Oh, they sing, and play on unusual instruments,--zitherns and lutes----"

"That doesn't sound so awfully wonderful."

"No; I suppose not. But it's the _way_ they do it,--and the--the atmosphere, you know, and the general exalted effect----"

"The what?"

"Oh, I don't know how to express it so you'll understand,--but I like it all. It's on a higher plane than the usual evening party."

"Don't they dance?"

"Yes, some. But more Solo dances, and Interpretative ones. I'm going to do a splendid dance for them, soon. Mr. Blaney is making it up for me."

"Can I see it?"

"I guess so. I think they mean to have a large audience for that occasion."

"What _are_ you doing, Patty? Are you going to wear your hair like that?"

"Yes, Sam likes it so."

"But, my gracious goodness, you look like a crazy person!"

"Oh, not so bad as that."

Patty spoke carelessly, but her colour heightened a little. She was sitting at her toilet mirror, while Nan lounged in an easy chair, near by. Patty's golden hair was drawn smoothly down from a central part, and tightly confined at the back of her neck, where it was rolled and twisted into an immense knot, hard and round, that was exceedingly unbecoming.

"It's awful!" declared Nan, "I never saw you look really plain before."

"It's all right," and Patty tossed her head. "That fluffy, curly business is a sign of a light-weight brain,--this arrangement is far more intellectual."

"And is that your gown!" Nan fairly gasped, as Patty took from her wardrobe a strange-looking affair of mulberry-coloured woolen goods.

"Yes, it's really stunning, Nan. I had it made by Alla Blaney's dressmaker, and it's a triumph."

"Looks to me as if it had been made by a dressmaker in the house."

"Not much! It's a marvel of line and type. Wait till it's all on."

Patty adjusted the shapeless garment, which hung in loose folds from her shoulders, but which, with its muddy hue and clumsy drapery, was decidedly unattractive. Over it she put on a sort of tunic of green and orange damask, edged with glittering sequins.

"Oh," cried Nan, relieved, "I didn't know it was a fancy dress affair."

"It isn't," returned Patty. "They all wear this sort of clothes."

"They _do_? Are they supposed to be brainy?--Blaney, I mean!"

"Don't be unpleasant, Nancy, it doesn't suit you. And, honestly, I like these people, and I like to be with them. Now, it would be silly of me to wear my usual dance frocks where everybody dresses quite differently. So, don't criticise unkindly, will you?"

"Of course not, you goosie. But it seems a shame when you look so pretty in your own clothes, to wear these hideous duds."

"Thank you for the compliment on the side, but the Cosmic Centre people think I look rather well in these things. I haven't shown them this gown yet, but I know they'll love it."

"It's lucky for you your father isn't at home! He'd make you take it right straight off."

"Oh, no, he wouldn't, Nancy-lady. I'm not a little girl any more, to be scolded and sent to bed. There, I'm ready."

Patty had added a long string of queer-looking beads, terminating in a huge pendant of Oriental effect. It was composed of coloured stones set in dingy metalwork.

"Where did you get that horror? Gift from the Cosmickers?"

"Funny, aren't you? No, I bought it myself, out of my hard-saved income. It's great! I found it at Ossilovi's. He says there isn't another like it out of Asia."

"I should hope not! Though I doubt if it ever saw Asia."

"Nan, you're positively unbearable! One more speech of that sort, and I'll be right down mad at you."

"Forgive me, Patty, I did let my feelings run away with me. It's all right for you to do these things if you want to, but it doesn't seem like you,--and it jars, somehow."

They went downstairs, and soon Sam Blaney came to take Patty away.

Nan greeted him very pleasantly, but inspected him very carefully. He was not in evening dress, their coterie did not approve of anything so conventional. This was against him in Nan's eyes, for she was a stickler for the formalities. But as he threw back his topcoat, and she saw his voluminous soft silk tie of magenta with vermilion dots, his low rolling collar, and his longish mane of hair, she felt an instinctive dislike to the man. Her sense of justice, however, made her reserve judgment until she knew more of him, and she invited him to tarry a few moments.

Blaney sat down, gracefully enough, and chatted casually, but Patty realised that Nan was looking him over and resented it. And, somehow, Blaney didn't appear to advantage in the Fairfield drawing-room, as he did in his own surroundings. His att.i.tude, while polite, was the least bit careless, and his courtesy was indolent rather than alert. In fact, he conducted himself as an old friend might have done, but in a way which was not permissible in a stranger.

Nan led the conversation to the recent work of some comparatively new and very worthwhile poets. She asked Blaney his opinion of a certain poem.

"Oh, that," and the man hesitated, "well, you see,--I--ah,--that is, I'm reserving my opinion as to that man's work,--yes, reserving my opinion."

"And a good idea, too," agreed Nan. "One shouldn't judge, hastily.

But you've doubtless made up your mind regarding this poet," and she picked up a book from the table, containing the poems of another modern and much discussed writer.

"Oh, yes," said Blaney, "oh, yes, of course. But, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Fairfield, I'd rather not announce my views. You see, I--er--that is,--I might be quoted wrongly,--misquoted, you know, and it would militate against my influence,--yes,--militate against my standing.

One must be so careful."

"Indeed you are right," Nan said, smiling at him; "a poet yourself, you must be careful of what you say about others."

"Yes, just that. How quickly you understand."

Patty and her escort went away, and after a short silence, Blaney said, "You didn't show Mrs. Fairfield the verses I wrote for you, did you?"

"No," said Patty, "I promised you I wouldn't."