"I'll give you a month; if you can't do it in that time, you can't do it at all. And, also, I must be the judge,—if you do fool me,—whether your practical joke is clever and not unkind."
"I'm quite contented that you should be the judge, for I know your sincere and honest nature will not let you swerve a hair's breadth from a true and fair judgment."
"That's clever," returned Patty; "for now I shall have to be honest."
The first dance over, Patty went on with a long succession of dances with her various partners. They were all polite and courteous young men, some attractive and agreeable, others shy, and some dull and uninteresting. Patty complacently accorded another dance to any one she liked, and calmly refused it to less desirable partners,—pleading an engagement with Cameron as her excuse.
The one she liked best was Eddie Bell. As she had said, this young man did look a little like Patty herself, though this was mostly due to their similarity of colouring.
"If I may say anything so impossible, it seems to me that I look like a comic valentine of you," said Mr. Bell, as they began to dance.
Patty laughed outright at this apt expression of their resemblance, and said: "I have already told some one that you looked exactly like me. So, in that case, I'm a comic valentine, too. But, truly, you're enough like me to be my brother."
"May I be? Not that I want to, in the least, but of course that is the obvious thing to say. I'd rather be most any relation to you than a brother."
"Why?"
"Oh, it's such a prosaic relationship. I have three sisters,—and they're the dearest girls in the world,—but I don't really feel the need of any more."