th pleasure, and the party was made
up.

"I don't want anything eccentric or foolish," Patty said to Nan,
regarding the appointments, "but I do want it aesthetic and artistic."

"You can arrange it as you like, dear," Nan said, kindly, and Patty did.

The dining-room was dimly lighted, and the table decoration consisted
of an enormous bronze placque, which Patty took down from the hall
wall. This held a small amount of water, and on it floated three
pansies. The table candles wore deep purple shades, and Nan privately
thought the whole effect dull and gloomy enough, but she said no word
of criticism.

Patty appeared, in a flowing, robe-like costume of pale violet chiffon,
and wore pansies in her hair over each ear.

"Well!" exclaimed her father, as he saw her, "I thought you could wear
any colour, but take my advice, Kiddie, and never brave lavender again!
It makes you look old and sallow."

"Nothing of the sort!" denied Patty. "You're unaccustomed to seeing me
in it, that's all."

Then Channing came, and Patty had to bear his disapproving glances.

"You're an angel in anything," he said, "but you're least angelic in
that mawkish mauve. You look like a member of the Art Students' Union."

Patty didn't mind their chaff, and only smiled good-naturedly, and then
the Blaneys came.

Patty was used to their aesthetic effects, but the others weren't, and
though the greetings were cordial and courteous, the elder Fairfields
needed a moment to recover their poise. But Chick Channing was always
to be depended upon, and he plunged into gay conversation that broke
the ice and did away with all self-consciousness.

Nor was it surprising that the appearance of the brother and sister
should strike an observer as startling. Alla was swathed in
yellowish-brown stuff. Her gown seemed to have no shape or design,
just draperies that wrapped her about in mummy fashion. Long sleeves
came well down over her hands, a high collar rose over her ears, and
the long skirt twined itself round her feet, till she could scarcely
walk. The material was a woolly serge, and no bit of colour or
trimming relieved the severity. She wore no ornament save a hideous
necklace of great, ugly stones, that fell down as far as her knees, and
carried a dilapidated old fan of peacock feathers. Patty had never
seen her look so unattractive, for even in her eccentric garb, she was
usually picturesque. But in this brown thing she was utterly with