ng out
her blue folds, and trailing her long robe behind her.

"Nonsense! I don't know much about millinery, but you never wore
anything more becoming than all that fiddly-faddly conglomeration of
blue silk and white fur."

"It isn't fur,--it's down."

"Well, I said you were a goose,--so it's most appropriate."

"But it's swansdown."

"Well, be a swan, then! Be anything you like. But come on, let's make
for the dining-room. We'll probably find Jim there, but don't make any
noise, or everybody upstairs will think we're burglars and shoot us."

Philip switched off the library light, and taking Patty's hand, led
her through the dim hall and into the dining-room. At the end of this
room was a wide bay window, which let in a perfect flood of moonlight.

"Oh," exclaimed Patty, "what a picture! From my room you couldn't tell
it was moonlight at all."

The picture from the window was a far sweep of hills, white with snow,
and glistening in the moonlight. In the foreground, evergreen trees,
laden with snow, stood about like sentinels,--and a big, yellow
three-quarter moon was nearing the western horizon.

"Isn't it wonderful, Philip?" whispered Patty, almost awed at the
sight.

"Yes, dear," he said, still holding her hand in both his own. "Patty,
you have a wonderful appreciation of the beautiful."

"Nobody could help loving such a sight as that."

"And nobody could help loving such a girl as you!" exclaimed Philip,
drawing her into his arms. "Patty, darling, you know I love you!
Patty, _do_ care for me a _little_ bit, won't you?"

"Don't, Philip," and Patty drew gently away from him. "_Please_ don't
talk to me like that! Oh, I oughtn't to be here! Let me go, Philip,--I
_know_ this isn't right."

"It _is_ right, Patty, darling; because I love you, and I want you for
all my own. Say you love me, and that will make _everything_ all
right!"

"But I don't, Philip." And Patty's voice carried a hint of tears.

"But you will, dear; you _must_, because I love you _so_. Patty, I
have always loved you, I think, since I first saw you on the stairs at
Aunty Van's that evening. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I remember; but please, Philip, let me go now, and _don't_ talk
to me this way. I don't _want_ you to!"

"You're frightened, Patty, that's all; and perhaps I ought not to have
spoken just now; but you looked so sweet, in the moonlight, with that
wonderful hair of yours curling about your shoulders, that I just
couldn't