came to Patty, and obeying a
sudden coquettish impulse, she put her hand lightly on Kenneth's
shoulder and they danced away.

Philip Van Reypen sat looking after them, smiling.

"What a transparent child she is," he thought to himself. "Her pretty
little coquetries are like the gambols of a kitten. Now, she thinks
I'm going to be annoyed at losing this dance with her. Well,--I
am,--but I don't propose to quarrel with her about it."

And then Patty and Kenneth came dancing back again; and Patty calmly
told Mr. Van Reypen it was his turn now.

Philip took her hand and they started off, and when that dance was
finished it was supper-time.

As usual, Patty and her most especial friends grouped in some pleasant
corner for supper. But, looking about, she missed a familiar face.

"Where is Christine Farley?" she said. "She always has supper with us.
Do you know where she is, Mr. Hepworth?"

Gilbert Hepworth drew near Patty, and spoke in a low voice: "I think
she has gone to the dressing-room," he said. "I wish you'd go up and
see her, Patty."

A little startled at his serious face, Patty ran upstairs, to Elise's
room, where she had taken off her wraps.

There was Christine, who had thrown herself on a couch, and buried her
face in the pillows.

"Why, Christine, what is the matter, dear?" and Patty laid her hand
gently on Christine's hair.

"Oh, Patty, don't speak to me! I am not fit to have you touch me!"

"Good gracious, Christine, what _do_ you mean?" and Patty began to
think her friend had suddenly lost her mind.

"I'm a bad, wicked girl! You were my friend, and now I've done an
awful, dreadful thing! But, truly, _truly_, Patty, I didn't mean to!"

"Christine Farley, stop this foolishness! Sit up here this minute, and
tell me what you're talking about! I believe you're crazy."

Christine sat up, her pale hair falling from its bands, and her eyes
full of tears.

"I've--I've--stolen----" she began.

"Oh, you goose! _do_ go on! What have you stolen? A pin from Elise's
pin cushion,--or some powder from her puff-box? Another dab on your
nose would greatly improve your appearance,--if you ask me! It's as
red as a beet!"

"Patty, don't giggle! I'm serious. Oh, Patty, _Patty_, _do_ forgive
me!"

"I'll forgive you _anything_, if you'll tell me what's the matter, and
convince me that you haven't lost your mind. Now, Christine, don't you
_dare_ ask me to forgive you again, until you tell me _what for_!"

"W