try to put up with being a failure as a martyr, won't we, my
dear?" she said breathlessly. "Oh, how hard we'll try not to grow too
pleased with ourselves now! Just remind me about it when I'm getting
top-lofty, will you, please? I'm afraid I'll forget to be meek."

"What's that you're talking about?" asked Constance's voice, and
Patricia turned to see her standing smiling in the doorway.

"Oh, oh, you lovely thing!" she cried in instant approval. "Why, I'd
never known you in that heavenly rig."

"Thanks for the tactful way you pay tribute to my frock," replied
Constance smoothly. "It is rather nice, so I forgive you on the spot."

"Nice?" exclaimed Patricia with scorn for the word. "Nice! It's
splendid, gorgeous, _transcendent_. Nice, indeed! Turn around and let me
drink you in."

Constance turned. The dress was of dull gold-colored net with great
flowers about its hem wrought into the net with gold thread and the
bodice was one great gold flower with trailing net for sleeves. Gold
bands held down Constance's dark hair, and the simplicity of the whole
made it suitable.

"I think I shall stay here and look at myself," she said with quaint
gravity. "It's been so long since I've had a real whole dress that I
fear it has turned my head. I'll be asking everybody what they think of
it if I go down."

Patricia pushed her out the door. "They'll tell you without asking," she
promised. "I wonder what Rosamond will say when she sees you."

At that Constance came back into the room and closed the door.

"Rosamond won't be here, after all," she said with a little laugh. "She
sent word to her father to do the polite thing to Madame Milano when she
came to sing in Boston, and her father sent a special car down for
Rosamond to take Milano up to the Hub. She's on her way now. That's
going some, isn't it?"

She evidently wanted to break the news to Patricia before she learned
from others, and she seemed surprised at Patricia's easy acceptance of
it.

"You're getting to be a wise child," she said with an approving nod.
"You know that it isn't always the highest flier that gets there the
soonest. Keep smiling, my dear, and it won't hurt half so much."

Patricia did smile, not so much at the slang as at the friendly spirit
which prompted it. "It doesn't hurt at all now," she answered,
truthfully, and then she told Constance of Judith's visit.

Constance was delighted. "Plucky Judith!" she cried. "Lucky Miss Pat.
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