might care," he said.

A strange thought came to Patty. Could he possibly mean that since he
was a rich man, she would smile on his suit? Could he think that she
would accept his attentions more gladly because of his newly acquired
wealth? The idea made her furiously angry. If Farnsworth thought her
that mercenary--if he deemed her so utterly sordid--well, her respect
for him was decidedly lessened!

CHAPTER XIV

PATTY'S DANCE

The Christmas Eve party at the Blaneys' was in full swing. A man at
the piano was performing a monologue that was partly spoken, partly
sung. It was cleverly done, and the audience showed its appreciation
by outspoken comments.

"A little lame on that top note, old chap. S'pose you try it over--ah,
that's better!"

Patty sat next to Sam Blaney. Chick had expected to come, but Elise
had persuaded him to attend her party instead. This rather pleased
Patty, for she feared Chick's gay banter and she knew he didn't care
for the Cosmic Centre Club and their ways.

"You are so wonderful!" Blaney was saying, as he looked at her. "I
never cared for Christmas before."

Patty's gown was a long, sweeping robe of poinsettia red velvet. It
would not have been becoming to most blondes, but Patty's fairness
triumphed over all colour schemes. She wore a girdle of red velvet
poinsettia blossoms and a wreath of small ones encircled her head.

"You are so beautiful----" Blaney's soft, purring voice went on.

"Don't make me blush," Patty laughed back. "Pink cheeks spoil the
effect of this red gown. I must stay pale to suit it."

"Pink or pale, you are perfect! I adore you."

Embarrassed by the fervour of his tones, Patty turned to talk to the
man at her other side. But he was engrossed in conversation with an
aesthetic damsel, and so she gaily changed the subject.

"How splendid the rooms look," she said, glancing about. "That grove
of green trees is wonderfully picturesque."

"That's where you're to dance," Blaney returned. "I looked after it
myself. It's carpeted with pine needles, but they're soft, fresh ones,
not dried ones. I'm sure they'll be comfy."

"I dunno about dancing on 'em barefoot. I believe I'll wear sandals,
after all."

"Oh, no, you mustn't. Grantham has designed every detail so
exquisitely, don't fail to follow his directions accurately. Your
number will be the best of all. That's why we put it last. It will be
an enormous hit,--a revelation!"