"Yes, far less than half," growled Van Reypen. "Oh, Patty, drop 'em, cut 'em out, give 'em the go-by, won't you?"

"Thank you, no. I still reserve the right to choose my friends, and I confess to a liking for those who are kindly disposed toward me."

"Oh, I'm kindly disposed toward _you_, very much so," declared Phil, "but your new friends are not included in my kindly disposition."

"So I gathered," and Patty laughed again. "But, do you know, they feel that they can struggle along without your admiration and affection."

"Don't be sarcastic, Patty," and Van Reypen smiled at the haughty little face turned toward his.

"No, I won't, Phil. I hate it. And I'm sorry I let myself go like that. But you do stir me up,--you and Elise."

"Glad of it," said Elise, "you ought to be stirred up once in a while.

But don't go, Patty. Here comes Daisy,--and, well, if it isn't Bill Farnsworth with her! I didn't know he was in town. He's in and out so much, it's hard to keep track of him. Come in, Daisy, take off your furs. Glad to see you, Bill. Here's Patty Fairfield."

"So I see," laughed Farnsworth, as he held out his hand. "Going? Why go yet? h.e.l.lo, Van Reypen."

"h.e.l.lo, Bill. Thought you were on your way to or from Arizona. How do you know where to vote, anyhow?"

"Guess at it. But I'm not going to live on the road so much as formerly. I've cleaned things up a bit, and shall sort of settle in New York from now on."

"Good! Glad to give you the freedom of our city. And you, Daisy? Are you going to live East, also?"

"Haven't decided yet," and Daisy glanced coquettishly at Farnsworth.

"Maybe so."

"Don't you go yet, Patty," begged Elise. "Stay a while longer, and we'll have tea,--chocolate, too, which I know you like better."

"'Course I'll stay," said Patty; "your chocolate is always the best ever. Order it up. What beautiful violets, Daisy."

"Yes, Bill bought them for me as we pa.s.sed a florist's shop. I adore violets."

"What girl doesn't?" laughed Patty. "At least she adores having them bought for her."

"I don't," said Elise. "I'd rather have one rose than all the violets that ever bloomed in the spring, tra-la."

"What's your favourite flower, Patty?" asked Farnsworth.

"Sunflowers, but n.o.body ever sends me any. I just get old orchids and things."

"Poor kiddy! I wish I could get a sunflower or two for you. But I fancy, at this season of the year, they're about as scarce as blue roses."

"'It is but an idle quest, Roses red and white are best,'"

sang Patty, with a smile at Big Bill.

"Do you know that?" he asked, interestedly. "I never heard you sing it."

"Oh, it's one of her best songs," cried Elise; "sing it now, Patty,--you'll have time before the chocolate comes."

"Too much bother," said Patty; "we'd have to go in the music room and all. I'll sing it for you some other time, Little Billee."

"All right," he responded, carelessly, and again Patty felt a slight chagrin that he cared so little about the matter.

Other people drifted in, as the young folks were apt to do at tea time, and then the chocolate arrived, and Patty found herself provided with a welcome cup of her favourite beverage.

It was Farnsworth who brought it to her, and he deliberately took a seat at her side, a seat that Van Reypen had just vacated.

"You can't sit there," said Patty, quickly; "Phil will be back in a minute."

"Will he?" said Big Bill, as he settled himself comfortably in the chair. "Do you think he can put me out?"

"Not unless you want him to," and Patty smiled at the big man, who looked so strong and powerful.

"Somehow, I don't. I like it here."

"Why?"

"Because I like to look at you. You're looking uncommonly well today.

If I were to guess, I should say you have been having a rumpus with somebody."

"What is a rumpus?" inquired Patty, looking innocent.

"A rumpus, my child, is a tiff, a squabble, a set-to, a racket, a general scrimmage."

"I haven't exactly had those things, but, well, I may say I have been drawn into a somewhat spirited discussion."

"Ah, I thought so."

"How did you know? I mean, why did you think so?"

"By your heightened colour and your generally wrought-up condition.

Why, your heart isn't beating normally yet."

Patty looked up at him, indignantly, but his blue eyes were very kind and his smile gentle and even concerned.

"What was it about, Patty? Who has been tormenting you?"

"n.o.body tormented me, exactly, but they criticise me and they say mean things about my friends----"

"Never let them do that! Your friends must be sacred to you,--I mean from adverse criticism of others."

"That's what I think, Little Billee. What shall I do, when everybody ridicules them and calls them names?"

"Just what I am sure you did do. Flare up like a wrathy kitten and helplessly paw the air."

"Of course that's what I did," and Patty laughed at the graphic description, "but it didn't seem to do much good."

"Of course it didn't. Standing up for one's friends rarely does much good, except to satisfy one's own sense of loyalty."