Without a trace of a blush Patty broke into gay laughter.
"Oh, you are ridiculous!" she said. "I have you here, why should I want him?"
"Then what is it you do want?" and Mr. Hepworth looked away as he evaded her question.
"Since you make me confess my very prosaic desires, I'll own up that I'd like a strawberry ice."
"Well, that's just what I'm dying for myself," said Mr. Hepworth gaily; "and if you'll reserve this orchestra chair for me, I'll go and forage for it. It looks almost impossible to get through that crowd, but I'll return either with my shield or on it. Unless you'd rather I'd send Harper back with the ice?"
"Do just as you please," said Patty, with a sudden touch of coquetry in her smiling eyes; "it doesn't matter a bit to me."
But though a willing messenger, Mr. Hepworth found it impossible to accomplish his errand with any degree of rapidity, and when he returned, successful but tardy, he found young Harper waiting where he had left Patty.
"She's gone off to dance with Frank Elliott," explained the boy cheerfully, "and she said you and I could divide the ices between us."
"All right," said the artist; "here's your share."
The next morning Patty, Nan, and Marian went down to the beach for a quiet chat.