“It was a lovely party!” declared Elise, after it was over and the last guest gone. “It was just perfect. There wasn’t a flaw! Isn’t that so, Patty?”
“I had a good time,” said Patty, a little wearily; “but I’m awfully tired, and I’m going right straight to bed. Good-night, everybody; good-night, Roger,—good-night, Ken.”
She nodded pleasantly to the young men, and started up the stairs at once. Elise and Christine followed, and, when they reached the upper hall, Patty bade them a brief but pleasant good-night and went straight to her own room.
“I don’t know what to do,” she thought to herself, as she took off her pretty blue frock. “I can’t let the matter go without saying a word,—and I can’t say anything, because that would put Elise in the wrong, and she is my guest! I’ll just have to live it down, I suppose.”
But it wasn’t so easily lived down. The next morning, though Patty tried to be especially cordial to Kenneth, he avoided her whenever possible. Not noticeably to the others,—but Patty realised that he did not seek her company, or sit by her on the veranda, or ask to ride with her in the motor.
The morning dragged along, nobody seeming to have energy enough to propose any sort of fun.
“Patty’s birthday seems to have been too much for this crowd,” said Nan, laughingly. “I propose that you men all go for a swim, and let these exhausted girlies take a little nap. I think they danced too late, and I sha’n’t allow such dissipation again.”
“I feel fine, Mrs. Fairfield,” declared Elise. “I never get tired dancing. Do you, Christine?”
“No, I didn’t get tired,—I thought it was a lovely party. I very seldom have an opportunity to be in such gaieties.”
“But you’re tired, aren’t you, Patty?” asked Elise, as Patty sat on the veranda rail, leaning listlessly against a pillar. Before she had time to answer, however, a servant came walking along the drive, whom Patty recognised as one of the “Red Chimneys” footmen. He brought a note, which he handed to Patty, and then, with a deferential bow, he went away.