LITMIR.BIZ

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devotion and worship? If you’ll excuse my French,—you make me tired!”

      “Don’t you like to have the boys devoted to you, Patty?”

      “No, I don’t! I like their jolly friendship, of course. I like to talk to Ken and Roger, or to Clifford Morse, or any of the boys of our set; but as for devotion, I don’t see any.”

      “None so blind as those who won’t see,” said Elise, who had finished brushing her hair, and now sank down on an ottoman by Patty’s side.

      “Well, then, I’ll stay blind, for I don’t want to see devoted swains worshipping the Persian rugs I walk on! Though if you mean these beautiful rugs that are on all the floors of your house, Elise, I don’t know that I blame the swains so much. By the way, I suppose some of them are ‘prayer rugs’ anyway, so that makes it all the more appropriate.”

      “Oh, Patty, you’re such a silly! You’re not like other girls.”

      “You surprise me, Elise! Also you flatter me! I had an idea I belonged to the common herd.”

      “Patty, will you be serious? Roger is terribly in love with you.”

      “Really, Elise? How interesting! Now, what would you do in a case like that?”

      “I’d consider it seriously, at any rate.”

      Patty put one finger to her forehead, frowned deeply, and gazed into the fire for fully half a minute. Then she said:

      “I’ve considered, Elise, and all I can think of is the ‘Cow who considered very well and gave the piper a penny.’ Do you suppose Roger would care for a penny?”

      “He would, if you gave it to him,” returned Elise, who was almost petulant at Patty’s continued raillery.

      “Then he shall have it! Rich as the Farringtons are, if the son of the house wants a penny of my fortune, it shall not be denied him!”

      Patty had risen, and was stalking up and down the room with jerky strides, and dramatic waving of her arms. Her golden hair hung in a curly cloud over her blue silk kimono, and her voice thrilled with a tragic intensity, though, of course, exaggerated to a ludicrous degree.

      Having finished her speech, Patty retained her dramatic pose, and glared at Elise like a very young and pretty Lady Macbeth.

      “Oh, Patty,” cried Elise, forgetting the subject in hand, “you ought to be an actress! Do you know, you were quite stunning when you flung yourself round so. And, Patty, with your voice,—your singing voice, I mean,—you ought to go on the stage! Do, will you, Patty? I’d love to see you an opera singer!”

      “Elise, you’re crazy to-night! Suppose I should go on the stage, what would become of all these devoted swains who are worshipping my feetsteps?”

      “Bother the swains! Patty, my heart is set upon it. You must be an actress. I mean a really nice, gentle, refined one, like Maude Adams, or Eleanor Robson. Oh, they are so sweet! and such noble, grand women.”

      “Elise, you have lovely ambitions for your friends. What about yourself? Won’t you be a circus-rider, dear? I want you to be as ambitious for you as you are for me.”

      “Patty, stop your fooling. I was quite in earnest.”

      “Then you’d better begin fooling. It’s more sensible than your earnestness. Now, I’m going to run away to bed and leave you to dream that you’re a circus-rider, whizzing round a ring on a snow-white Arab steed. Good-night, girlie.”

      Alone in her room, Patty smiled to herself at Elise’s foolishness. And yet, though she had no desire to be an actress, Patty had sometimes dreamed of herself as a concert singer, enchanting her audiences with her clear, sweet voice, which was fine and true, if not great. She was ambitious, though as yet not definitely so, and Elise’s words had roused a dormant desire to be or to do something worth while, and not, as she thought to herself, be a mere social butterfly.

      Then she smiled again as she thought of Elise’s talk about Ken and Roger.

      But here no answering chord was touched. As chums, she thoroughly liked both boys, but the thought of any more serious liking only roused a feeling of amusement in her mind.

      “Perhaps I may be glad to have somebody in love with me some day,” she thought; “but it will be many years from now, and meantime I want to do a whole lot of things that are really worth doing.”

      Then, with a whimsical thought that to sleep was the thing most worth doing at the present moment, Patty tumbled into the soft, white nest prepared for her and was soon sound asleep.

      Christmas Day was one of the finest. No snow, but a clear, cold, bracing air, that was exhilarating to breathe.

      “Skating this afternoon?” said Roger, after the Merry Christmas greetings had been exchanged.

      “Yes, indeed,” cried Patty and Elise in one breath.

      “Let’s get up a party, shall us?” went on Roger, “and skate till dusk, and then all come back here and have tea under the Christmas tree?”

      “Lovely!” cried Elise, but Patty hesitated.

      “You know we have the dance on for to-night,” she said.

      Patty was not robust, and continuous exertions often tired her. Nan had cautioned her not to attempt too much gaiety during this visit, and she wanted to rest before the evening’s dance.

      “Oh, pshaw!” said Elise, “there’ll be lots of time. The dance won’t begin till nine, anyway.”

      So Patty agreed, and Roger went off to invite his skating party by telephone.

      He secured Kenneth, and the two Morses, and then he hung up the receiver.

      “That’s enough,” he declared. “I don’t like a big skating party. Slip away, girls, and get your bonnets and shawls; the car’ll be here in half an hour.”

      The girls went off to dress, and Patty viewed her new skating costume with decided approval.

      It was all of white. A white cloth frock, with short skirt; white broadcloth coat and a Russian turban of white cloth and fur; long white leather leggings, and her Christmas furs, which added a charming touch to the costume.

      As being more comfortable for skating, she had returned to her former mode of hair-dressing, and so two big white ribbon bows bloomed at the back of her head. These, and the short skirt, quite took away Patty’s grown-up air, and made her seem a little girl again.

      “Hello, Baby,” said Roger, as he saw her come downstairs, with rosy cheeks and eyes sparkling with pleasurable anticipation, for Patty loved to skate.

      “Mam-ma!” said Patty, putting her finger in her mouth, and assuming a vacant, babyish stare.

      Roger laughed at her foolishness, and then Elise came along and they all went out to the car.

      Elise’s suit was of crimson cloth, bordered with dark fur, and as a consequence the two girls together made a pretty picture.

      “You’re such a comfort, Patty,” Elise said, as they climbed into the big car. “You always dress just right to harmonise with my clothes.”

      “Sure you do!” said Roger, looking at the two girls admiringly. “No fellow on the ice will escort such beautiful ladies as I have in my charge. Now, we’ll pick up Ken and the Morses, and then make a dash for the Pole.”

      They reached the Park by three o’clock, so had nearly two hours of skating before the dusk fell.

      Patty was a superior skater, and so were most of the others, for Roger had chosen his party with care.

      “Skate with me, Patty, will you?” said Roger, just at the same moment that Kenneth said, “Of course you’ll skate with me, Patty.”

      Patty looked at both boys with a comical smile. “Thank you,” she said; “but I always like to pick out my own escort.” Then, turning to Clifford Morse, she said:

      “Skate with me,

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