condition!”

The girls went down stairs, and found Nan already there.

“My dear old Bumble!” she cried; “no, no Helen for me! I knew you too long by the old name to change.”

“But, Nan, I don’t like it! Please don’t. Such a horrid name!”

“All right, then. I’ll try to say Helen, but if the other slips out sometimes, you must forgive me. Now, how’s everybody? Bob all right?”

“Fine! In camp, of course, but he gets home occasionally, or we go to see him. Dad and Mother sent all sorts of messages and greetings,—and hoped I won’t make you too much trouble—as if I could!”

“Indeed you can’t!” cried Nan, warmly. “We’re just awfully glad to see you, and you must stay just as long as you possibly can. Has Patty been telling you of her latest escapade?”

“She wrote me of it,—that’s mostly why I came. I thought the sight of the flirtatious, coquettish, altogether frivolous and fickle Patty Fairfield tied down to one man, would be worth seeing!”

“Huh!” remarked Patty, “when you see the man, you’ll not wonder! Anybody would be glad to be tied to him.”

“I’m going to cut Patty out, you know, Nan,” Helen declared, “but it’s more likely she’ll throw him over and fly to some newer flame,——”

“Oh, very likely,” Patty mocked, her eyes dancing, “oh, ve-ry like-ly! When I throw him over, Bumble, you have my full permission to pick him up. But until then,—hands off my property!”

The tea things appeared then, and Patty did the honours, remarking, “Yes, we do have tea, ’most every day, and we have sugar in it,—but we skimp it some and we don’t have really rich cakes.”

“I’m glad to get it,” and Helen accepted her cup. “I forgot to get any luncheon, and I’ll just make up for it now.”

Whereupon she proceeded to devour cakes and biscuits, until Patty silently despaired of ever helping her in a quest for slimness!

But Patty looked at her cousin affectionately. Helen was so jolly and gay-looking, so wholesome and smiling, and so sincerely glad to be with them, that she made herself thoroughly welcome. Her dark eyes were beaming with good nature, her round, plump face was alight with good will and her laughter bubbled forth like a child’s.

She put her little fat hand up to her lips. “Honest, I’m trying not to giggle so much,” she said, “but I just can’t help it! When I’m happy, I have to chuckle, and that’s all about it.”

“Giggle all you like, my dear,” said Nan, “I’m glad to hear it. There’s so much sadness in the world, that a truly merry laugh like yours is infectious and does us all good. Now, make yourself at home, Helen, and don’t mind it if I seem to neglect you. I’m not really going to do that, but I do have an awful lot to see to,——”

“Oh, I know, Nan. And Patty has, too. But I’ll be a help, not a nuisance,—you see if I’m not. Why, Patty Fairfield! you said he was little!”

The original of the photograph she had seen, strode into the room and when Helen saw big Bill Farnsworth, she knew Patty had chaffed her.

Farnsworth went to Patty and grasped both her hands in his.

“All right?” he said, looking deep into her blue eyes.

“All right,” Patty returned, with an answering gaze, and so true was the sympathy between them, that a sort of telepathic message was exchanged and further words were unnecessary.

Then Farnsworth turned to greet Nan, and to be presented to Miss Helen Barlow.

“She told me you were little!” Helen exclaimed, looking at the broad-shouldered giant who faced her.

“Not quite that, I think,” Bill smiled at her, “Patty probably called me Little Billee, which is her pet name for her lord and master!”

“Future lord and master!” corrected Patty, “not yet, not yet, my child!”

“‘Serene I fold my hands, and wait,’” Farnsworth quoted, with undisturbed equanimity. “I’m very glad you’ve come, Miss Barlow. Perhaps you can entertain Patty and keep her from getting too impatient at the time that must elapse before I can take her for keeps.”

“Vanity Box!” exclaimed Patty. “Me impatient, indeed! Just for that, Little Billee, I’ll put the date six months later.”

“Later than what? I didn’t know you’d decided on the date for the festal occasion. You told me last night you hadn’t.”

“I’m living up to the reputation for fickleness Helen has just wished on me,” Patty laughed. “But I’ll give you some tea, Billee mine, if you’d like it. Oh, what a lot of people! You make the tea, Nan!”

Patty left the table to welcome her new guests. Elise Farrington and Daisy Dow were followed by Chick Channing and Philip Van Reypen.

After introductions and greetings all round, Helen looked about her with an air of great satisfaction.

“This is as I thought it would be,” she said, contentedly; “I do love afternoon tea, and we never have it at home. And I love people dropping in to it.”

“Into the tea?” asked Channing.

“Yes, in to the tea, of course. And such lovely people! I want to know you all at once, but I suppose I’d make better headway by taking you one at a time.”

“Take me first,” begged Chick, who was much attracted by the sprightly newcomer.

“No, me,” laughed Philip. “You can get acquainted with me in two minutes,—I’m the easiest of us all.”

“Then I’ll leave you till the last,” smiled Helen. “After all, I believe I’ll talk to the girls first. I want them to like me——”

“Oh, don’t you care about the boys liking you?” said Patty.

“They will, anyhow,” Helen retorted, and she sat down by Daisy and Elise, ignoring all the others.

“Tea, please,” said Philip, sauntering over to Patty, who had returned to the tea-table.

“One lump or two?” she asked, holding the sugar tongs.

“One and a smile,” he replied.

Gravely, Patty dropped one lump in his cup, equally gravely, she gave him an idiotic smile, that was merely a momentary widening of her mouth.

“Very pretty,” commented Phil; “don’t see how you manage such a sweet smile! The tea is ’most too sweet, I think. Give me another bit of lemon.”

“Here you are,” said Patty, spearing the lemon with a little fork. “Now, Philip, listen to me. I want you to do all you can to make it pleasant for Bumble,—I mean, Helen, while she’s here.”

“Of course I will. I’m always nice to your friends, you know that.”

“I do know it, but I want you to be specially nice.”

“All right. Say, flowers tonight,—candy tomorrow,—opera invitation as soon as I can manage it,—a theatre party,——”

“There, there, now don’t overdo it! No; she doesn’t eat candy, but you may send some flowers.”

“Some to you too.”

“No; not to me——”

“Then not to her.”

“Oh, Phil, you said you’d be nice!”

“Well, I will; to both of you. But not to Bumble—I mean, Helen, alone.”

“But you mustn’t send flowers to me, now that I’m engaged. Come here a minute, please, Little Billee.”

“Yours to command,” said Farnsworth, approaching.

“Tell Philip he can’t send me flowers.”

“Philip, you can’t send Patty flowers,” Farnsworth said, obediently.

There was a smile on his face, but in his voice there rang a note of command that angered Van Reypen exceedingly.

“I can