ertain bits of
bric-a-brac that she thought would appeal to an "art student."

"If Mr. Hepworth hadn't said the girl had real talent I'd be hopeless of
the whole thing," said Nan, "for I do think the most futile sort of young
woman is the one who dabbles in Art, with a big A."

"Oh, Christine Farley isn't that sort," declared Patty. "I don't believe
she wears her hair tumbling down and a Byron collar with a big, black
ribbon bow at her throat. I used to see that sort copying in the art
galleries in Paris, and they _are_ hopeless. But I imagine Miss Farley is
a tidy little thing and her genius is too real for those near-art
effects."

"Well, then, I'll put this photograph of the Hermes in here in place of
this fiddle-de-dee Art Calendar. She'll like it better."

"Of course she will. And I'm going to put a pretty kimono and slippers in
the wardrobe. Probably she won't have pretty ones, and I know she'll love
'em."

"If you owned a white elephant, Patty, you'd get a kimono for it,
wouldn't you?"

"'Course I would. I love kimonos--pretty ones. And besides, it would fit
an elephant better than a Directoire gown would."

"Patty! What a goose you are! There, now the room looks lovely! The
flowers are just right--not too many and just in the right places."

"Yes," agreed Patty; "if she doesn't like this room I wash my hands of
her. But she will."

And she did. When the small, shy Southern girl arrived that afternoon,
and Patty herself showed her up to her room, she seemed to respond at
once to the warm cosiness of the place.

"It's just such a room as I've often imagined, but I've never seen," she
said, smiling round upon the dainty, attractive appointments.

"You dear!" cried Patty, throwing her arms round her guest and kissing
her.

When she had first met Christine downstairs she was embarrassed herself
at the Southern girl's painful shyness.

When Miss Farley had tried to speak words of greeting a lump came into
her throat and she couldn't speak at all.

To put her more at her ease Patty had led her at once upstairs, and now
the presence of only warm-hearted Patty and the view of the welcoming
room made her forget her embarrassment and seem more like her natural
self.

"I cannot thank you," she began. "I am a bit bewildered by it all."

"Of course you are," said Patty, cheerily. "Don't bother about thanks.
And don't feel shy. Let's pretend we've known each other for years--long
enough to use first names.