I don't think--no, I really _don't_ think I'm going
to marry him."

"But good gracious, Patty, you ought to know by this time! Either you
care for him or you don't."

"Nan, I've only learned of late that when people say 'care for' they
mean love. I think it's a silly phrase,--why, I care for lots of
things----"

"There are a good many things you've only learned of late, Patty, and a
good many more you've still to learn. But I really think you ought to
make up your mind about Phil Van Reypen."

"Well, amn't I making it up as fast as I can? I'm going right at it
now, in dead earnest, and you've got to help me."

Nan smiled at the anxious face that looked into her own.

They were in Patty's boudoir, the morning after the Christmas party. A
breakfast tray, with contents only partly demolished, was pushed away,
as the importance of the discussion made food seem an intrusive factor.

Patty's cap was askew on her hastily knotted-up curls, and she gathered
about her the voluminous folds of a billowy, blue silk affair, that was
her latest acquisition in the way of negligees.

"My child," said Nan, "you have given yourself away. If you want any
help in making up your mind, you are not in love with that young man.
You don't 'care for' him, in the technical sense of the term."

"But he's very nice, Nancy. He's a big-hearted, fine-minded----"

"Upstanding, clean-cut American gentleman. Let me help you out. Yes,
Patty, he's all those things and more. But if you don't love him you
mustn't marry him. You're old enough to know your own mind."

"I'm not such an ancient!"

"Don't be silly! You're nearly twenty-one----"

"Just twenty and a half."

"Well, all right, twenty and a half. But that's not like seventeen.
You're young for your years, I think. But anyway, you've seen enough
of men to know if Phil Van Reypen is 'Lord of your life,--your
King,--your Star!' Is he?"

"Not much he isn't! Why, Nan, he's an awfully nice chap, but no
'Philip, My King!' There, you see I can quote poetry as well as you.
Oh, Nan, Bill Farnsworth knows an awful lot about poetry! Would you
think he would?"

"Now, Patty, keep to the subject in hand. Fred and I both think you
ought to be engaged to Philip, or else tell him you won't be. It isn't
fair to him, to act as you do."

"I know it, you angel stepmother, and so, I'm going to decide, right
now,--with much quickness. Heigho! Which shall it be? Patty Van
Reypen,--o