'Twas th' lucky day f'r Miss Mary--but I wish her
here."

Finding the coast clear, Patricia moved the scene of her activity to the
reception-room. Here she undertook to put into execution the latest idea
which had struck her fancy, which was nothing less than a medieval
tournament on as elaborate a scale as the properties at hand would
permit. The hotel had not been furnished with an eye to contests of
chivalry, but chairs, turned wrong-side up and covered with
table-cloths, made richly caparisoned steeds; and Patricia's imagination
easily supplied the riders.

At first the Knights and their horses were ranged together at one end of
the room.

"You are Front-de-B[oe]uf," the child announced, laying her hand upon
the first overturned chair; "and you are Bois-Guilbert, and you
Malvoisin. We ought to have some others, but there aren't any more
table-covers."

Then she moved Front-de-B[oe]uf into the centre of the arena.

"You stay there 'til I get my shield and lance," she said, and the
war-like Knight made no protest.

Patricia next appeared with an open umbrella dexterously held in front
of her, and a heavy cane belonging to her father in her hand.
Front-de-B[oe]uf may have been intimidated by the militant figure which
approached him, but he stood his ground bravely.

"I'm the Disinherited Knight," Patricia announced to the assembled
multitude, pausing a moment to receive their enthusiastic plaudits.

"Largesse, largesse, gallant Knights!" she cried, boldly. "That means
that I'm bigger than any one else," she explained. "Love of the
Ladies--Glory to the Brave!"

With this ample notice of her intentions, the Disinherited Knight
charged Front-de-B[oe]uf with a frenzy which resulted in his utter
disgrace. The trappings were torn from his steed by the fury of the
onslaught, the horse itself was overthrown, and Patricia surveyed the
carnage with the utmost satisfaction.

"We shall meet again, I trust, where there is none to separate us," she
said, solemnly.

A truce was declared while she dragged Bois-Guilbert into the lists.

"To all brave English hearts and to the confusion of foreign tyrants,"
was the war-cry, and in a moment more Bois-Guilbert had shared the fate
of his predecessor. This time, however, the Disinherited Knight did not
escape unscathed, as the front foot of the adversary's steed made a
dismal rent in her umbrella shield.

Malvoisin alone remained, and he in turn took his stand against the