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the Hartleys came, Mabel at once made her way to Patty’s side and sat down by her.

      “I’m so glad to see you again,” she said, “and it’s so lovely that you’re going home with us.”

      “I’m glad, too,” returned Patty, “it was lovely of you to ask me.”

      Mabel Hartley was an English girl, and was about as different from Patty as could well be imagined, and perhaps for this reason the two were very good friends. Although they had met only a few times, they liked each other from the beginning, and both were ready to continue the friendship.

      Mabel was large and stout, with the solidity which characterises the British young girls. She was large-boned and not very graceful, but she carried herself with a patrician air that told of past generations of good-breeding. Her complexion was of that pure pink and white seen only on English faces, but her pale, sandy hair and light blue eyes failed to add the deeper color that was needed. Her frock was an uninteresting shade of tan, and did not hang evenly, while her hat was one of those tubby affairs little short of ridiculous.

      Patty fairly ached to re-clothe her, in some pretty clear color, and a becoming hat.

      The girls were politely silent while the music was going on, but in the intervals between the numbers they chattered glibly.

      “That’s Grace Meredith and her brother Tom just coming in,” said Mabel. “I hope they’ll come over here; you’ll like them, I know.”

      The Merediths did come over, and were promptly introduced to Patty.

      “Do you know,” said Tom Meredith, as he shook hands in cordial, boyish fashion, “you’re the first American girl I’ve ever met.”

      “Am I, really?” laughed Patty. “Now don’t ask me if we always wear our diamonds to market, for truly the American women who go to market rarely have any diamonds.”

      “I never believed that diamond story, anyway,” responded Tom, gravely, “but I’m glad to have you tell me it isn’t true. I’m perfectly unprejudiced about America, though. I’m ready to believe it’s the best country in the world, outside of our own little island.”

      “Good for you!” cried Patty. “Then I’m ready to acknowledge that I like England next best to America.”

      “Have you been here long?” asked Grace.

      “No, only about two weeks, but I love London better every day, and I know I shall love the English country. Just the glimpse I caught coming in the train from Dover was delightful.”

      “You should see the Hartleys’ country place,” declared Tom, with enthusiasm. “It’s a ripping old house, two hundred years old, and all that. And such parks and orchards! Well!”

      “I hope you will come to see it, Patty,” said Mabel, a little wistfully, and Patty wondered why the girl’s tone had in it a note of sadness.

      But just then, as the music was over, Mrs. Hastings asked them to go to the tea-room, and the group of young people followed in her wake.

      “You girls sit here,” said Tom, selecting a jolly-looking alcove, with window-seats and red cushions, “while I stalk some food.”

      He was back in a few moments, followed by a waiter, who brought a tray of teacups and plates of sweet cakes.

      Tom, himself, bore triumphantly a covered silver dish.

      “Muffins!” he announced, in a jubilant voice. “Hot, buttered muffins! Crickets, what luck!”

      The hot muffins, buttered and quartered, were indeed delicious, and England and America seemed at one in showing an appreciative appetite for them.

      “We don’t have these in America,” said Patty, surveying her bit of muffin with admiration. “We have good sandwiches, though.”

      “We almost never have sandwiches,” said Grace.

      “You don’t need to,” said Patty, quickly. “Your wonderful bread and butter is too good to be spoiled with a sandwich filling of any sort.”

      “’Most all things are good eating at an afternoon tea,” observed Tom. “Somehow, at five o’clock I’m always so hungry I could eat a brickbat if it were toasted and buttered.”

      “Afternoon tea is really an acquired taste with us,” said Patty. “You seem to have it naturally, even when you’re alone, but we only have it when we have guests.”

      “Really?” said Mabel, in astonishment. “Why, we’d as soon think of omitting breakfast or dinner as tea.”

      “It’s a lovely meal,” said Patty, giving a little sigh of satisfaction, as her last crumb of muffin disappeared. “Such good things to eat, and then it’s so cosy and informal to sit around in easy chairs, instead of at a big table.”

      “But the ideal place for tea is on the lawn,” said Tom. “The open air and the trees and birds and flowers are even a better setting for it, than an interior like this.”

      “I hope I shall have that kind this summer,” said Patty. “I’m invited to several country houses, and I know I shall enjoy it immensely.”

      “Indeed you will,” said Mabel, and again Patty thought she detected a shade of sadness in her friend’s eyes.

      But if Mabel was not exactly gay, Grace Meredith made up for it. She was full of fun and laughter, and both she and Tom made comical speeches until Patty feared she would disgrace herself laughing.

      “What’s the joke?” asked Mrs. Hartley, coming to collect her young people and take them home.

      “Tom is making verses about the people here,” explained Grace. “Tell Mrs. Hartley the one about the violinist, Tom.”

      “Don’t think it’s rude, Mrs. Hartley,” said young Meredith; “truly, it isn’t meant to be. But for that classic-browed genius, with his chrysanthemum of tawny-colored hair, isn’t this a pleasant token of regard and esteem?

      “This is our latest social lion,

      So, to look modest, he’s tryin’ and tryin’.”

      “It’s very beautiful,” said Mrs. Hartley, smiling, “and I daresay Professor Prendergast would enjoy it himself, were he to hear it.”

      “He might,” said Tom, doubtfully, “but musicians rarely have a sense of humour, at least, about themselves.”

      “That’s true,” agreed Mrs. Hartley, “and now, Mabel and Miss Fairfield, we must be going on.”

      Good-byes were soon said, and in the Hartleys’ carriage Patty was taken away to her first visit in an English home.

      CHAPTER II

      RIDDLES AND GAMES

      Much to Patty’s satisfaction Mabel Hartley was in the habit of dining with her elders and was not condemned to “schoolroom tea.”

      The family was not large, consisting only of Mrs. Hartley, her mother, Mrs. Cromarty, her two sons, and Mabel. The sons, Sinclair and Robert, were big, stalwart fellows, a few years older than Mabel.

      Patty liked them at once, for they were cordial and hearty in their greetings, and quite at ease in their conversation.

      “I say, Mater,” began Bob, after they were seated at dinner, “there’s a stunning garden-party on at Regent’s Park next week. Don’t you think we can all go? Tickets only two shillings each.”

      “What is it, my son? A charity affair?”

      “Yes. Rest cure for semi-orphans, or something. But they’ve all sorts of jolly shows, and the Stagefright Club is going to give a little original play. Oh, say we go!”

      “I’ll see about it,” answered Mrs. Hartley. “Perhaps, if we make up a party, Miss Fairfield will go with us.”

      “I’d love to,” said Patty. “I’ve never seen a real English garden party.”

      “Oh,

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