ng only of Mrs. Hartley, her mother,
Mrs. Cromarty, her two sons, and Mabel. The sons, Sinclair and Robert,
were big, stalwart fellows, a few years older than Mabel.

Patty liked them at once, for they were cordial and hearty in their
greetings, and quite at ease in their conversation.

"I say, Mater," began Bob, after they were seated at dinner, "there's a
stunning garden-party on at Regent's Park next week. Don't you think we
can all go? Tickets only two shillings each."

"What is it, my son? A charity affair?"

"Yes. Rest cure for semi-orphans, or something. But they've all sorts of
jolly shows, and the Stagefright Club is going to give a little original
play. Oh, say we go!"

"I'll see about it," answered Mrs. Hartley. "Perhaps, if we make up a
party, Miss Fairfield will go with us."

"I'd love to," said Patty. "I've never seen a real English garden party."

"Oh, this isn't a real English garden party in the true sense," said
Sinclair. "To see that, you must be in the country. But this is a public
London garden party and typical of its sort. You'll like it, I'm sure.
Will you go with us, Grandy?"

At first it seemed incongruous to Patty to hear the dignified Mrs.
Cromarty addressed by such a nickname, but as she came to know her
better, the name seemed really appropriate. The lady was of the class
known as _grande dame_, and her white hair and delicate, sharply-cut
features betokened a high type of English aristocracy. Her voice was very
sweet and gentle, and she smiled at her big grandson, as she replied:

"No, my boy; I lost my taste for garden parties some years ago. But it's
a fine setting for you young people, and I hope Emmeline will take you
all."

"Mother said she'd see about it," said Mabel, "and that's always the same
as 'yes.' If it's going to be 'no,' she says, 'I'll think it over.'"

"It's a great thing to understand your mother-tongue so well," said
Patty, laughing; "now I shouldn't have known those distinctions."

"We have a wonderful talent for languages," said Sinclair, gravely.
"Indeed, we have a language of our own. Shall I teach it to you?"

"You might try," said Patty, "but I'm not at all clever as a linguist."

"You may not learn it easily, but it can be taught in one sentence. It
consists in merely using the initial of the word instead of the word
itself."

"But so many words begin with the same initial," said Patty, bewildered
at the idea.

"Yes, but it's ever so much easie