After dinner was over, and the guests returned to the drawing-room,
Patty remained in the dining-room, wondering what would happen next.
In a few moments Mrs. Brewster came running out to her.
"You little brick!" she cried; "but, my DEAR child, what MADE you do it?"
"What do you mean, madame?" asked Patty, in her most waitress-like voice.
"What do I mean? You rogue! You scamp! Mr. Farnsworth has told us all about it! I don't know what you mean by this masquerade. But it's over now, and you must come into the drawing-room at once! Take off that apron and cap, and put on your collar and bow again."
"Oh, Mrs. Brewster, I can't go into the drawing-room. All your guests have on their evening things, and this is a morning frock!"
"Nonsense, child, come right along in. You look as sweet as a peach."
"But I say, Ethel," and Bob Peyton bounced out into the dining-room, "Miss Fairfield hasn't had any dinner, herself," and he smiled at Patty. "You see I know all about you. Farnsworth told the whole story. You are miffed with him, I believe, and wouldn't let him help you. So he came right over here and sent me back to help a fair lady in distress. Why you got up that waitress jargon I don't know."
"I don't either," and Patty dimpled roguishly at him. "I have an awful way of cutting up any jinks that happen to pop into my head! You'll forgive me, won't you?"
"I never should have forgiven you if you HADN'T!" and Peyton smiled admiringly into the big blue eyes that implored his forgiveness so sweetly.