"We can hardly expect an answer for two days," said Patty, "but if I know Mr. Kit, he'll reply about as quickly as possible."
And sure enough, when the next day but one the three again invaded the little Maple Bank post-office, there was a letter from New York City for Miss Belle Harcourt.
"Read it, read it!" cried Daisy as they started homeward with their prize.
The three sat side by side in the motor, with Patty in the middle, and they all giggled, as Patty read the letter aloud.
"DEAR MISS HARCOURT:
I cannot tell you what pleasure your letter gave me. It is so delightful to learn that a stranger is interested in my poor attempts at making music. And—may I say it?—the personal charm of your letter has thrilled my heart! Only a pure, sweet, young nature could write as you do. May I not see you? Or at least will you not send me your photograph? I know I have no right to ask this, but I would so love to meet one so sympathetic and appreciative of the great art which is the ideal of my life.
With many, many thanks for your welcome letter, I am,
Very sincerely yours, CHRISTOPHER CAMERON."
"I knew he'd do it!" cried Patty. "I knew he'd fall for that flattery! Kit's a perfect dear, but he IS vain of his music, and I don't blame him. He's a wonderful violinist."
"What are you going to do next, Patty?" asked Adele. "Answer that letter?"