f it's a
curtain-pole, I refuse to bring it out. I offered to bring one out for
Lucille Carter last night, because she was in a hurry to give a
house-warming, and I speared the conductor with it getting into the car;
and while I was apologizing to him I knocked Mrs. Prexy's hat off with
the other end."

"We have all the curtain-poles we need," said Patty. "It's just some
paint--five cans of black paint, and three brushes at the ten-cent
store, and thank you very much. Good-by. Now," she continued, "the first
thing is to get that door down, and I will wrest a screw-driver from the
unwilling Peters while you remove tacks from the carpet."

"He won't give you one," said Priscilla.

"You'll see," said Patty.

Five minutes later she returned waving above her head an unmistakable
screw-driver. "_Voila, mes amies!_ Peters's own private screw-driver,
for which I am to be personally responsible."

"How did you get it?" inquired Priscilla, suspiciously.

"You act," said Patty, "as if you thought I knocked him down in some
dark corner and robbed him. I merely asked him for it politely, and he
asked me what I wanted to do with it. I told him I wanted to take out
screws, and the reason impressed him so that he handed it over without
a word. Peters," she added, "is a dear; only he's like every other
man--you have to use diplomacy."

By ten o'clock that night the study carpet of 399 was neatly folded and
deposited at the end of the corridor above, whence its origin would be
difficult to trace. The entire region was steeped in an odor of
turpentine, and the study floor of 399 was a shining black, except for
four or five unpainted spots which Patty designated as "stepping-stones,"
and which were to be treated later. Every caller that had dropped in
during the afternoon or evening had had a brush thrust into her hand and
had been made to go down upon her knees and paint. Besides the floor,
three bookcases and a chair had been transferred from mahogany to
Flemish oak, and there was still half a can of paint left which Patty
was anxiously trying to dispose of.

The next morning, in spite of the difficulty of getting about, the
step-ladder had been reerected, and the business of tapestry-hanging
was going forward with enthusiasm, when a knock suddenly interrupted the
work.

Patty, all unconscious of impending doom, cheerily called, "Come in!"

The door opened, and the figure of Peters appeared on the threshold; and
Priscilla ba