"you see, nan, it isn't fair. i don't feel honest to keep phil in uncertainty, when 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 négligées.

"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,—or stay an old maid all my life."

"oh, i dare say there are others. you may possibly have another chance at matrimony."

"nan," and patty turned suddenly grave, "i don't like that—a chance at matrimony. i mean, if one gets engaged, it ought to be to a man she loves so much that she doesn't think of it as a 'chance.' it ought to be the one and only."

"why, that's just what i'm trying to say, dear. now, is phil the one and only?"

"no, ma'am. not by no manner of means, he isn't. nixie, he is not!"

"that mass of negatives sounds rather conclusive to me. so, with that as a premise, i'm going to advise you, even urge you to tell him so with unmistakable definiteness."

"but, nan, it makes him feel so bad."

"that is the trouble, patty. every true woman hates to disappoint the man who truly loves her. and phil adores you. his love is deep and sincere. he would make you very happy—if you loved him. if not, it would only mean unhappiness for you both. and, so, it is really kinder to him to tell him so frankly and let him give up any false hopes."

"i know it, and i'm going to do it. but i don't know just how. you see, nan, he is so persistent,—and in such a nice, kind way. when i tell him that, he'll only say that he won't consider it final, and we'll wait and see. then the argument begins all over again."

"and so, i tell you, at the risk of repeating myself, that you must make up your own mind positively first; then, if an adverse decision, you must tell him, so positively that he can't misunderstand. then, if he refuses to give up all hope, it isn't your fault."

"that's good, sound talk, nan, and i will try to do just as you say. but—well, here's the thing in a nutshell. i like phil so much that i hate to tell him i can't love him."

"then get that out of the nutshell, and put this in. if you like him so much, it's your duty to tell him you can't love him. heavens, patty, have you no idea of other people's rights?"

"i don't believe i have, nan. i'm a spoiled child, i admit it. you and dad spoil me, and all my friends do, too. i'm made to believe that the sun rises and sets in silly little patty fairfield, and it has made me a vain, conceited, selfish, insufferable pig! that's what it has done!"

"oh, patty, you little idiot! nothing of the sort. you're,—since you doubtless meant to be contradicted,—you're a dear thing, and there isn't a selfish bone in your body. if people adore you, it's because of your sunny, sweet nature, and your absolute thoughtfulness and kindness to others. don't be foolish that way. but regarding this matter of philip, i know you see it as i do. and it's really your kind heart and your dislike of hurting anybody's feelings that makes you hate so to tell him what you must tell him."

"yes, nan, i must tell him. i know it myself. i know that i like him lots, and i'd be awfully sorry not to be friends with him, but i don't want to marry him."

"do you want to marry anybody else?"

"i hardly know how to answer that. i suppose every girl would rather be married than not, if it's to just the right man. but one thing is certain, philip isn't the right man."

patty sighed, and the far-away look in her eyes made nan wonder if there was a "right man" whose image was enshrined in the girl's heart. but she only said, "then, dear, tell him so."

"i will," said patty, but she looked very serious and troubled over it.

however, she did tell him so. when van reypen called that evening patty answered his plea with a decisive no. she was very gentle and kindly, but she gave him no ray of hope, no suggestion of a change of decision.

philip took it gravely, but was unwilling to admit it was final. he knew from patty's demeanour that she meant it to be, but he hoped he could yet win her by further devotion and patience. she told him this was impossible, but he only smiled and expressed his determination to try it.

"i take your word for it, dear," he said. "i know you mean just what you say, that you don't love me enough to give yourself to me. and i won't urge you, or tease you. just let me remain your friend, and let me see you, occasionally. i promise not to intrude when i'm not wanted. and though i expect nothing, there's no law against hoping, you know."

phil's winsome smile was so cheery and yet so wistful, that patty's heart was touched anew. but she said, "it must be just friends, phil. i like you lots, you know that, but i can't be always fearful that——"

"that i'll break loose and become unmanageable! you needn't, dear. i promise to abide by your decision, unless i can make you want to change it. now, forget it all, for the present, and let's be friends and chums and comrades and all those nice things, that don't bother curly-headed little girls and make them look troubled and sad. but, i want to thank you and bless you, dear, for your sweet kindliness to me. why, you might have sent me flying about my business with nothing more than a curt no. i'm glad you didn't do that!"

"i don't treat my friends like that," and patty smiled, relieved that the ordeal was practically over. "now, will you help us with the house sale?"

"in a minute! but tell me what house is to be sold?"

"oh, no, we don't sell any house. it's really a sort of bazaar, but instead of holding it in a hall or any big place, we have it in a house,—this house, in fact."

"here?"

"yes, next week. it's a horrid nuisance,—the getting ready and clearing up afterward, i mean,—but we want to make money for the library of our working girls' club."

"let me give you the money you'd make, and then don't have the bazaar thing."

"you're awfully good, phil, and i'd like to do that. but it wouldn't work. the club would just take your contribution and then go calmly on and have a bazaar or something beside."

"but it would let you out. you needn't have it here."

"that would be selfish. i'm too selfish as it is. no, i'll have the sale here. of course, the committee will help, and all that, but well, you know what committees are."

"yes, they let the chairman do everything and then they criticise. and

i'll bet you're chairman, aren't you?"

"yes," patty laughed. "how you do catch on! but i'm not shifting responsibility. indeed, i'd rather do it all, if i could do it my own way. but they all tell me what to do, and then whatever's wrong is my fault."

"i know. all committees are like that. well, just do the best you can and let me help all i can. is there much i can do?"

"why, yes, i think so. at least there will be on the day of the sale.

come round then and we'll set you to work."

"glad to. what is to be sold? can't i buy some things?"

"yes, indeed. it's a novel sale, in this way: there are wares all over the house. in the library we'll sell books, and in the dining-room, food, and, also, china and glass and fancy linens."

"and in the drawing-room here?"

"oh, here we'll have the bric-à-brac and pictures and small pieces of furniture,—all these things have been donated, you know. and up in the bedrooms we're to have things to wear, and lace pillows and dresser scarfs and all such things; oh, and hats! and in my boudoir there'll be wonderful kimonos and breakfast caps, and work-baskets and bags and really lovely things."

"i believe you'll enjoy it all. you're enthusiastic already. let me give you some things for it. wouldn't you like a few curios and bronze bits from aunty van's collections?"

"oh, we would! but you oughtn't to spare them."

"i've such quantities, a few will never be missed. come over and pick them out yourself. bring elise or whoever is on the committee with you."

"thank you, phil, you're awfully good. it will be an immense help. it's easy enough to get fancy things, and even dining-room things; and we've oceans of books and desk fittings and such things. but it's hardest of all to get the very things you offer. and they'll sell, splendidly."

"and you girls dress appropriately, i suppose."

"yes, of course we never lose a chance of dressing up. elise will be in cap and gown, in the library. marie homer, in full evening regalia, in here. several as waitresses in the dining-room; flower-girls in the halls; oh, yes, we even use the kitchen. we have cooks there, and they'll sell all sorts of aluminum cook dishes and laundry things. it's really very well planned and i s'pose it will be fun. in the little reception room we have all sorts of motor things,—robes, coats, lunch-baskets, cushions, all the best and newest motor accessories. general sports goods, too, i believe. daisy's running that."

"and where are you?"

"up in my own boudoir. i'm to wear a gorgeous chinese kimono and one fascinating cap after another, selling them off of my head to the eager throngs of purchasers!"

"fine! you'll do a rushing business. i'll give you some wares to sell up there, too. say, some oriental couch cushions, and some persian slippers, and things from auntie's wardrobe."

"do you think you ought to?"

"why, of course. all her things are mine, and there are such quantities of really valuable stuffs and trinkets i don't know what to do with them. and as to aunty van's own wishes, i know she would have been glad to have them used in this way,—especially for you."

patty looked up at him, quickly. she well remembered mrs. van reypen's affection for her, and what form it took.

"phil," she said, "i don't want you to give these things for my sake——"

"now, don't you worry, curlyhead, i give them solely and wholly for the good of the cause. indeed, if you weren't connected with the affair, i'd give twice as many!"

philip's smile contradicted this awful taradiddle, and patty rejoiced at his nonsense. much as she wanted his gifts for the sale, she didn't want to feel that it placed her under special obligations to him.

just then the doorbell sounded, and in a moment daisy dow and bill farnsworth appeared. they were in gay spirits, having been to see a new comic opera, which proved such a bore that they left before it was over.

"such rubbish!" daisy exclaimed. "old jokes, old music, old dances.

so i proposed we leave it to its fate and run up here. glad to see us,

patty?"

"yes, indeed! just listen while i tell you of all the things i've wheedled out of philip for our sale."

"gorgeous!" cried daisy, after hearing the list. "haven't you some for my room, mr. van reypen?"

"i'm sure i have. you can use anything sporty?"

"anything."

"then i'll give you a first-class tennis set. i'll order it sent up from ball and bat's, or you can pick it out there yourself."

daisy noticed that van reypen did not give her any of his aunt's heirlooms, but she gratefully accepted the offered gift.

"what shall i give you, patty?" asked bill. "what's your specialty?"

"négligées and boudoir caps," said patty, demurely; "have you any?"

"something just as good. want some indian moccasins and navajo blankets——"

"now, bill," said daisy, "you promised me the navajo, for a motor robe."

"all right. i'll give each good little girl one. then patty, how'd you like some real hopi baskets?"

"beautiful! you boys are awfully good to us. we'll have a wonderful sale."

"if only people come to buy," demurred daisy.

"oh, they'll come fast enough. we'll make oceans of money! i'm just beginning to get into the notion of the thing."

"will those queer friends of yours be here?"

"what queer friends?"

"those soully ones. i've never seen them, but i've heard a lot about them."

"from chick channing, i suppose," said patty, coolly. "how that boy does love to exaggerate. i don't know, daisy, whether they'll be here or not. if they are, use your wiles to sell them a lot of things out of your room, won't you?"

"yes, i will, for i don't believe they'll care for your lace caps and pillows."