ed home by a late train, and Patty went up to her pretty
bedroom, with her usual happy conviction that she was a very fortunate
little girl and had the best father in the world.

CHAPTER XIV

THE NEIGHBOUR AGAIN

Kenneth Harper did send the book, and, as Patty confidently expected, the
girls of the club quite agreed with her that it was the best play for
them to use.

At a meeting at Marian's, plans were made and parts were chosen. The
goddesses were allotted to the members of the club, and the gods were
distributed among their brothers and friends.

Guy Morris, being of gigantic mould, was cast for Hercules, and Frank
Elliott for Ajax. When Patty told the girls that Kenneth Harper could do
trick riding on a bicycle, they unanimously voted to invite him to take
part in their entertainment.

It was decided to have the play about the middle of February, and the
whole Tea Club grew enthusiastic over the plans for the wonderful
performance.

One morning Patty sat in the library studying her part. She was very
happy. Of course, Patty always was happy, but this morning she was
unusually so. Her housekeeping was going on smoothly; the night before
her father had expressed himself as being greatly pleased with the system
and order which seemed everywhere noticeable in the house. It was
Saturday morning, and she didn't have to go to school.

Moreover, she was very much interested in the play and in her own part in
it, and had already planned a most beautiful gown, which the dressmaker,
Madame LaFayette, was to make for her.

Patty's part in the play was that of Diana, and her costume was to be a
beautiful one of hunter's green cloth with russet leather leggings and a
jaunty cap. Being up-to-date, instead of being a huntress she was to
represent an agent of the S.P.C.A.

This suited Patty exactly, for she had a horror of killing live things,
and very much preferred doing all she could to prevent such slaughter.
Moreover, the humour of the thing appealed to her, and the funny effect
of the huntress Diana going around distributing S.P.C.A. leaflets, and
begging her fellow-Olympians not to shoot, seemed to Patty very humourous
and attractive.

This Saturday, then, she had settled down in the library to study her
lines all through the long cosey morning, when, to her annoyance, the
doorbell rang.

"I hope it's none of the girls," she thought. "I did want this morning
to myself."

It wasn't any of the girls,