When it was ended, the room rang with applause. Cameron bowed simply, and laying aside his violin, went straight to Patty and sat down by her, coolly appropriating the chair which his cousin Marie had just left.
"I made that for you," he said, simply. "Did you like it?"
"Like it!" exclaimed Patty, her blue eyes dancing; "I revelled in it!
It was wonderful! Was it really impromptu?"
"Of course. It was nothing. Any one can play variations on an old song."
"Variations nothing!" remarked Patty. "It was a work,—a chef d'oeuvre,—an opus!"
"Yes; Opus One of my new cycle." "What are you two talking about?" said
Marie, returning. "Have you found your girl, Kit? What do you think,
Patty?—Kit's crazy over a black-eyed girl whom he doesn't know!"
"Is he?" said Patty, dropping her eyes demurely.
"I found My Girl, Marie," Cameron announced, calmly; "I find I made a trifling mistake about her colouring, but that's a mere detail. As it turns out, the lady of my quest is Miss Fairfield."
"Good gracious, are you, Patty?" said Marie, impetuously; "are you
Kit's girl?"
"Yes; I am," and Patty folded her hands with a ridiculous air of complacency.