LITMIR.BIZ

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to-night," returned Patty, smiling at him. "Ask me at dance time."

      As no dances could be engaged ahead, except verbally, Patty was besieged by partners for every dance.

      "Oh, dear," she cried, as, at the fourth dance, five or six eager young men were bowing before her; "what shall I do? I'd have to be a centipede to dance with you all! And I can't divide one dance into six parts. And I can't CHOOSE,-that would be TOO embarrassing! Let's draw lots. Lend me a coin, somebody."

      "Here you are," said Van Reypen, handing her a bright quarter.

      Patty took it, and put both hands behind her.

      "You may try first, Phil, because you put up the capital. Right or left?"

      "Right," said Philip, promptly.

      Patty gaily brought her hands into view, and the quarter lay in her left palm.

      "Next!" she said; "Mr. Downing."

      "Left," chose that young man, as Patty again concealed her hands.

      But that time she showed the coin in her right hand.

      "My turn now," said Ken Harper, "AND, you'll please keep your hands in front of you! You don't do it right."

      "Do you mean that I cheat?" cried Patty, in pretended rage.

      "Oh, no, no! nothing like that! Only, this game is always played with the fists in view."

      So Patty held her little gloved fists in front of her, while Kenneth chose.

      "Right!" he said, and her right hand slowly opened and showed the shining coin.

      "Were you going to take me, anyway?" asked Kenneth, as they walked off together. "And why did you turn down poor Van Reypen? He was awfully cut up."

      "Ken Harper, do you mean to insinuate that I didn't play fair?"

      "Yes, my lady, just that. Oh, cheating never prospers. You have to put up with me, you see!"

      "I might do worse," and Patty flashed him a saucy glance.

      "I wish you meant that."

      "Oh, I do! I DO, Ken. Truly, there are lots of worse people than you in the world."

      "Who?"

      "Well,—there's Eddie Perkins."

      "Oh, Patty! that fop! Well, I'll bet you can't think of another."

      "No; I can't."

      "Patty, how dare you! Then you'll sit right here until you can."

      Laughingly Kenneth stopped dancing, and led Patty to an alcove where there were a few chairs. As they sat down, Philip Van Reypen came toward them.

      "Oh, Ken," Patty cried, "I've thought of a man worse than you are! Oh, EVER so much worse! Here he is! And I simply adore bad men, so I'm going to dance with him."

      Naughty Patty went dancing off with Van Reypen, and Ken looked after them, a little crestfallen.

      "But," he thought, "there's no use being angry or even annoyed at that butterfly of a girl. She doesn't mean anything anyway. Some day, she'll wake up and be serious, but now she's only a little bundle of frivolity."

      Kenneth had been friends with Patty for many years; far longer than any of her other young men acquaintances. He was honestly fond of her, and had a dawning hope that some time they might be more than friends. But he was a slow-going chap, and he was inclined to wait until he had a little more to offer, before he should woo the pretty butterfly.

      And, too, Patty would never listen to a word of that sort of thing. She had often proclaimed in his hearing, that she intended to enjoy several years of gay society pleasures, before she would be engaged to any one.

      So Kenneth idly watched her, as she circled the room with Van Reypen, and took himself off to find another partner.

      "Oh, Valentine, fair Valentine," said Van Reypen to Patty, as they danced.

      "Wilt thou be mine, and I'lt be thine," returned Patty, in mocking sing-song tones.

      "Forever may our hearts entwine," improvised Philip, in tune to the music.

      "Like chickwood round a punkin-vine," Patty finished.

      "Pshaw, that's not sentimental. You should have said, Like sturdy oak and clinging vine."

      "But I'm not sentimental. Who could be in a crowded ballroom, in a glare of light, and in a mad dance?"

      "What conditions would make you feel sentimental?"

      "Why,—let me see. Moonlight,—on a balcony,—with the right man."

      "I'm the right man, all right,—and you know it. And if I'm not greatly mistaken, here's moonlight and a balcony!"

      Sure enough, a long French window had been set slightly ajar to cool the overheated room, and almost before she knew it, Patty was whisked outside.

      "Oh, Philip! Don't! you mustn't! I'll take cold. I ought to have something around me."

      "You have," said Van Reypen, calmly, and as he had not yet released her from the dance he held his arms lightly round her shoulders.

      Patty was angry. She knew Philip loved her,—several times he had asked her to marry him,—but this was taking an unfair advantage.

      The February wind itself was not colder than the manner with which she drew away from him, and stepped back into the ballroom.

      "My dear, my dear," exclaimed Mrs. Homer, who chanced to be near, "how imprudent! You should not go out without a wrap."

      "I know it, Mrs. Homer," and Patty looked so sweetly penitent that her hostess could but smile at her. "But, truly, I just stepped out a single second to get a tiny breath of air. The room IS warm, isn't it? May I stay here by you a few moments?"

      "Yes, indeed," and Mrs. Homer drew the girl down beside her on the sofa. "You're not robust, my child, and you mustn't run foolish risks."

      "You're quite right, and I won't do it again. But on a night not quite so cold, that balcony, flooded with moonlight, must be a romantic spot."

      "It is, indeed," said Mrs. Homer, smiling. "My young people think so; and I hope you will have many opportunities in the future to see it for yourself."

      "Your young people? Have you other children besides Marie?"

      "Yes; I have a daughter who is away at boarding-school. And, also, I have a nephew, whose home is in this same building."

      "Is he here to-night?"

      "No; Kit hates dances. Of course, that's because he doesn't dance himself. He's a musician."

      "Kit? What a funny name."

      "It's Christopher, really, Christopher Cameron; but he's such a happy-go-lucky sort of chap, we naturally call him Kit."

      "I think I should like him," said Patty. "Would he like me?"

      "No," said Mrs. Homer, her eyes twinkling at Patty's look of amazement. "He detests girls. Even my daughters, his cousins, are nuisances, he says. Still he likes to come down here and sit on my balcony, and tease them. He lives with his parents in the apartment just above us."

      "He sounds an interesting youth," said Patty, and then, as Roger came up and asked her for a dance, she promptly forgot the musical nephew.

      At supper-time, Patty's crowd of intimates gathered around her, and they occupied a pleasant corner of the dining-room.

      "What'll you have, Patsums?" asked Roger, as a waiter brought a tray full of dainty viands.

      "Sandwiches and bouillon," said Patty, promptly; "I'm honestly hungry."

      "The result of exercise in the open air," murmured Philip Van Reypen, as he took a seat directly behind her.

      Patty gave an involuntary giggle, and then turned upon Philip what she meant to be an icy glare. He grinned back at her, which made her furious, and she deliberately and ostentatiously ignored him.

      "Hello, you two on the outs?" inquired Kenneth, casually.

      "Oh, no!" said Philip, with

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