rly neighbor. After a moment of
deliberation, she decided to meet him half way; and the groom rode back
with an equally polite acceptance.

On Friday next, as the school hearse turned in at the gates of Weatherby
Hall, the owner stood on the portico waiting to welcome his guests. If
there were a shade more _empressement_ in his greeting to Patty than to
her companions, the Dowager did not notice it.

He made an exceptionally attentive host. In person he conducted them
through the gallery and pointed out the famous Botticelli. Tea was
served at little tables set on the western terrace. Each girl found a
gardenia at her plate and a silver bonbonniere with the St. Ursula
monogram on the cover. After tea their host suggested a visit to the
Italian garden. As they strolled through the paths, Patty found herself
walking beside him and the Dowager. His conversation was addressed to
Mrs. Trent, but an occasional amused glance was directed toward Patty.
They turned a corner behind a marble pavilion, and came upon a fountain
and a gardener man, intent upon a border of maiden-hair ferns.

"I have a very remarkable new Swedish gardener," Mr. Weatherby casually
remarked to the Dowager. "The man is a genius at making plants grow. He
came highly recommended. Oscar!" he called. "Bring the ladies some of
those tulips."

The man dropped his watering-can, and approached, hat in hand. He was a
golden-haired, blue-eyed young chap with an honest smile. He presented
his flowers, first to the elder lady and then to Patty. As he caught her
interested gaze, a light of comprehension suddenly leaped to his eyes.
Her costume and make-up to-day were so very dissimilar to those which
she had assumed on the occasion of their first meeting, that recognition
on his part had not been instantaneous.

Patty fell back a step to receive her flowers and the others strolled
on.

"I have to thank ye, Miss," he said gratefully, "for the finest job I
ever had. It's all right!"

"You know now," Patty laughed, "that I didn't pitch you no curves?"

XII

The Gypsy Trail

"Heels together. Hips firm, one, two, three, four--Irene McCullough!
_Will_ you keep your shoulders back and your stomach in? How many times
must I tell you to stand straight? That's better! We'll start again.
One, two, three, four."

The exercise droned on. Some twenty of the week's delinquents were
working off demerits. It was uncongenial work for a sunny Saturday. The
twenty