After several dances Mrs. Morse proposed that the young people should play a game of some sort.

Nobody seemed to know of any particular game to play, until Ruth volunteered to explain to them a new game that had recently made its appearance in Boston.

The game was called “It,” and was great fun, Ruth said, if the players would agree to keep their temper.

All present willingly agreed to do this.

“It’s really only difficult for one,” explained Ruth; “the one who does the guessing must be guaranteed to possess a temper that is positively incapable of being ruffled under any provocation.”

Although entirely unfamiliar with the details of Ruth’s game, it suddenly occurred to Patty that here was an excellent chance to test the quality of Lorraine’s reform in the matter of amiability. So she said:

“If you want someone good-natured to do your guessing, I propose Lorraine Hamilton.”

Lorraine looked up suddenly, caught Patty’s glance, and determined that she would prove herself worthy of the confidence Patty had shown in her.

“I’ll do it,” she said, “and I’ll agree not to lose my temper, whatever your game may be.”

“You’ll be tempted to,” said Ruth; “I warn you that ‘It’ is a most exasperating and provoking game.”

“I’ll risk it,” said Lorraine; “what must I do first?”

“First, you must leave the room while I explain the game to the others,” said Ruth; “go out in the hall, please, entirely out of hearing, and don’t come back until we send for you.”

“Very well,” said Lorraine, gaily; “when you want me you’ll find me sitting on the stairs, with my fingers in my ears.”

“Now,” said Ruth, after Lorraine had gone, “we must all sit round in a sort of an oblong circle.”

“An ‘oblong circle’ is easily managed,” said Clifford Morse, as he began to arrange chairs around the walls of the long parlour. The other boys helped him, and soon the whole party were sitting in a continuous ring around the room.

“The game,” went on Ruth, “is to have Lorraine guess, by asking questions, an object which we’ve all agreed upon. That part of the game is something like ‘Twenty Questions,’ but the difference is, that instead of taking a single object we each of us have in mind our right-hand neighbour. For instance, Patty’s right-hand neighbour, as we sit, is Kenneth Harper, but his right-hand neighbour is Adelaide Hart. So you see, we must each answer Lorraine’s questions truthfully, but in regard to the person who sits at our right-hand; and the answers will seem to her contradictory and confusing.”

Patty was quick-witted enough to see at once that these conflicting answers would seem like ridiculing Lorraine’s intelligence, and would certainly be provoking enough to make anyone angry. It was a severe test, but she privately determined that if Lorraine showed signs of irritation, she would explain the game at once, and not allow it to be played to a finish.

When everybody thoroughly understood the directions, Clifford went out, and escorted Lorraine back to the parlour.

Then Clifford resumed his seat, and Lorraine was left sitting on a piano stool in the middle of the room, so that she might twirl about and face each one in turn.

“We have all agreed upon an object,” said Ruth, “which we want you to guess. You may question us each in turn, and you may ask any questions you choose; if your questions can be answered by yes or no, we’re obliged to answer them, but if not, we may do as we choose about it. Now suppose you begin with me, and then go right around toward the right.”

“Wait a moment, Lorraine,” said Patty; “before you start remember this: everything we tell you will be the exact truth, although it may not seem so.”

“Very well,” said Lorraine, “I’ll begin with Ruth. Does It belong to the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdom?”

“Animal,” answered Ruth.

“How large is It?” asked Lorraine of Gertrude Lyons, who sat next to Ruth.

“Which way?” said Gertrude, laughing.

“Well, how long is It?”

“About two yards,” replied Gertrude, mentally measuring the tall boy who sat on her right.

“What colour is It?” asked Lorraine next.

“Green,” responded Dick Martin, with a side-long glance at the frock of the girl next to him.

“Is It all green?”

“No,” said the girl in green, “it is mostly black.” This of course was true, as her right-hand neighbour was a boy in black clothes.

Lorraine began to look puzzled. “It seems queer,” she said, “that one of you should say it is all green, and another that it is mostly black. But I suppose one of you must be colour-blind.”

They all laughed at this, and Lorraine went on: “Where did It come from?”

Lorraine asked this question of a boy who sat next to Margaret Lane, who was from Philadelphia.

“From Philadelphia,” he replied.

“Is It Margaret Lane?” asked Lorraine of Margaret herself.

“No,” she replied, laughing.

“Is It anything belonging to Margaret Lane?”

“No.”

“Has It any connection whatever with Margaret Lane?”

“None that I know of.”

“To whom does It belong?”

Lorraine asked this question of a girl who sat next to a young cadet from West Point, so she replied: “To the United States.”

“Is It in stripes?”

“Yes,” replied the cadet, after glancing at the striped dress of the girl next to him.

“Then It’s the flag!” exclaimed Lorraine, triumphantly.

But they all told her she had guessed wrong, and she good-naturedly went on with her queries.

“Has It anything to do with the army?”

“Nothing, except that It carries arms,” said the waggish boy whom she asked.

“Is It a person?”

“Yes.”

“Is the person in this room?”

“Yes.”

“Is It a boy or girl?”

“A boy.”

“What colour hair has It?”

“Flaxen,” was the answer, as the boy she asked was seated next to a yellow-haired girl.

But Lorraine, having been told it was a boy, looked around the room for a flaxen-haired boy. There was only one present, so she announced triumphantly: “Then It is Ed Fisher!”

Again they told her she was wrong, and the burst of laughter at her bewilderment would have greatly offended Lorraine had it not been for her determination to keep her temper.

“I’m glad you told me that you’re all telling the truth,” she said, “for I’m sure your stories don’t agree. You said it was a boy, and had flaxen hair, and Ed Fisher is the only one here with yellow hair.”

“Go on with your questions,” said Patty.

“All right,” said Lorraine, beginning where she had left off; “what colour eyes has It?”

“Black.”

“Oh, then of course it isn’t Ed Fisher! Now, Patty, I’ve come to you. Is It good-looking?”

Kenneth sat on Patty’s right-hand, and with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes Patty replied, “Oh, not very.”

They all laughed at this, and Lorraine, passing on to Kenneth, said; “Do you think It is good-looking?”

Here was a chance to tease Patty in return, for Adelaide sat on Kenneth’s right hand, and the boy said: “Oh, very beautiful! Quite the best-looking person I know.”

Then they all laughed again, and Lorraine grew more and more bewildered. “Is It good-natured?” she asked of Adelaide.

Editha sat next to her sister, and so Adelaide said: “No; It is often as cross as a bear.”

“Then,” said Lorraine to Editha, “is It myself?”

“No, indeed,” replied Editha, “but It is one of your dearest friends.”

Clementine sat next, and Lorraine asked her: “Does It go to the Oliphant school?”

“No, indeed!” said Clementine, for Roger Farrington was her right-hand neighbour; “It wouldn’t be allowed there!”

“Why wouldn’t It be allowed to go to the Oliphant school,” demanded Lorraine of Roger.

“Why, It does go there,” said Roger, glancing at Mary Sargent.

“Does It, Mary?” went on Lorraine.

“No,” said Mary, positively; “I’m sorry to contradict Roger, but, as Clementine says, Miss Oliphant wouldn’t let It come to our school.”

“Which am I to believe?” said Lorraine then, to Clifford Morse; “you tell me, Clifford, does It go to our school?”

“Yes,” said Clifford, earnestly, “It certainly does!”

“Well,” said Lorraine in despair, “I’ll have to give this thing up. I believe you’re speaking the truth, but there seems to be a whole lot of truths. However, I’ll try once more. Is It a boy or a girl?”

“It’s a girl,” declared Hilda.

“What colour dress does It wear, Flossy?”

“Black,” said Flossy, thinking of the boy next to her.

“Of course you’re speaking the truth,” said Lorraine, with a comical smile, “but there isn’t a girl in the room with a black dress on. What’s her dress trimmed with, Ed?”

The boy looked at Maude Carleton, who sat next to him. Then he said: “It’s dress is trimmed with a sort of feathery, fluffery, white, lacy ruching.”

“Why, that’s the trimming on Maude’s dress,” declaimed Lorraine, “but her dress isn’t black. Maude, is It you?”

“No,” said Maude, positively.

“I give it up,” said Lorraine; “I promised to keep my temper, and I have; I promised to believe you all told me the truth, and I do; but I didn’t promise to guess your old It, and I can’t do it; I give It up.”

“You’re a trump, Lorraine,” cried Patty; “anybody else would have been as mad as hops long before this. Now we’ll tell you.”

So they explained the game to Lorraine, and she realised how they had each told her the truth, although it didn’t seem so at the time. She was glad she had kept good-natured about it, though it had been more of an effort than anyone had realised.

Then other games were played, which were less of a tax on the young people’s ingenuity, and after that supper was served.

Mrs. Morse well knew how to provide for young people, and she was quite prepared for the demands of their healthy appetites. Sandwiches and salad disappeared as if by magic; jellies, ices and cake followed, and were thoroughly enjoyed by all.

Patty and Ruth, with Lorraine, Hilda and the Hart girls, sat in a little group at one end of the dining-room; while the boys went on foraging expeditions, and returned laden with all sorts of good things.

“It’s almost Christmas,” said Clifford Morse; “what are you going to do to-morrow, Patty?”

“We’re all going to Vernondale for a couple of days,” said Patty, “and when we come back I want you all to come and see Ruth some afternoon.”

“I’m going to Vernondale, too,” said Kenneth; “my aunt has invited me to spend the day; in fact to stay as long as I choose. So if I may, I’ll go on the Fairfield Special to-morrow morning.”

“You may, if you’ll be good,” said Patty, “but Grandma doesn’t like bad boys, and Ruth is afraid of them.”

“I’ll be so good,” said Kenneth, “that Mrs. Elliott won’t know me; and I’ll promise not to scare Ruth once.”

Then the clock struck twelve, and the Cinderella party was over. Everybody started for hats and wraps, and Patty found her father awaiting her.

“Well, Chickens,” said Mr. Fairfield, as he bundled the two tired girls into the carriage, “did you have a good time?”

“Lovely!” exclaimed Patty; “I’d like to go to a party every night.”

“So would I,” said Ruth.

Christmas day was fair and cold. As Patty said at breakfast, it was in all respects a typical Christmas, except that there was no snow on the ground, and that she hadn’t heard any bells, nor had any presents as yet.

But after breakfast the last condition was decidedly changed. Gifts began to pour in, and what with untying the parcels the messengers brought, and the other parcels, which had arrived before, but had been kept until now unopened, Patty and Ruth were as busy as bees.

All the girls had sent Christmas remembrances. There was a book from Clementine, and a carved bookrack from Elise. Hilda sent Patty an old-fashioned brass candlestick, and Lorraine, a most complicated sofa-pillow, which she had embroidered herself. Adelaide gave her a little gilt picture-frame, and the other schoolgirls sent many trinkets and trifles.

Nor were the boys negligent of Patty’s pleasure.

Roger sent a great box of holly and flowers, and Clifford Morse sent a large box of candy.

Other boys sent various Christmas cards, and greetings, and many of them remembered Ruth as well as Patty.

The New England girl was quite bewildered by the excitement of the morning, for they were to take the eleven-thirty train for Vernondale, and there was scarcely time to look at all the gifts before they started.

Patty tore open the parcels rapidly, one after another, exclaimed with delight at their contents, and finally scrabbled all the wrapping-paper into a big heap, and declared it was time to dress for their journey.

The Fairfields themselves were to take their gifts for each other to Vernondale, for in the evening there was to be a family Christmas tree at Aunt Alice’s.

Patty had of course prepared gifts for all the Elliott family, as also had Grandma Elliott and Mr. Fairfield. These parcels, with some that were added by Ruth, filled two large suit-cases, and then there were left several bundles to be carried by hand.

When the party left The Wilberforce, with all this impedimenta, Patty said they looked as if they had been dispossessed.

At the ferry they met Kenneth, who was going to Vernondale on the same train. The boy, too, was laden with Christmas luggage, and merry greetings were exchanged.

“I’ve a gift here for each of you girls,” said Kenneth, “but I can’t find it now among all this trash. Mayn’t I come over to Mrs. Elliott’s this afternoon and bring them?”

“Not this afternoon,” said Patty, “because all the Tea Club girls are coming to see me then, and we wouldn’t have a boy around for anything. But come over this evening, when we have the Christmas tree; and ask Miss Daggett to come, too.”

“Thank you, I’ll ask her with pleasure; I’m afraid she won’t come, she goes out so little, but I hope she will. However, even if she won’t I’ll run over for a few moments, anyway.”

“Mr. Hepworth is coming this evening,” went on Patty, “and he’s going to bring my portrait for a Christmas present to me. He’s been painting it, you know, and it’s finished. I’ve never seen it at all, not even in the beginning; but papa says it’s a very good likeness. I’m crazy to see it.”

“Why!” exclaimed Kenneth, “my Christmas gift for you is a portrait of yourself, also; and I’ll wager anything you like that it looks more like you than the one Hepworth has done.”

“A portrait of me!” exclaimed Patty, “why, you can’t paint.”

“I didn’t say I painted it, and it isn’t exactly painted anyway; but it’s a portrait of you, and it looks more like you than anything Hepworth could possibly do.”

“Then it must be a photograph! but why should you give me a photograph of myself? Is it in a frame?”

“Yes, a pretty little Florentine frame.”

“Then the gift is really the frame; but I don’t see why you put my photograph in it; and anyway I didn’t know you had a picture of me. Pray, where did you get it?”

“I’ll show it to Ruth,” said Kenneth, “if you’ll promise not to look; for I don’t want you to see it until after you’ve expressed your opinion of Mr. Hepworth’s portrait.”

Kenneth unwrapped a parcel, and taking care not to let Patty see, Ruth looked at the contents.

“Oh,” she said, “I don’t think that looks like Patty!”

“Do you think it’s prettier than she is?” asked Kenneth, smiling.

“No,” replied Ruth, smiling, too; “I don’t think it’s half as pretty as Patty.”

“Well,” said Kenneth, “I don’t like to differ with you, but do you know, I think Patty will say that it looks exactly like her, and that it doesn’t flatter her a bit.”

“I believe she will,” said Ruth, and then they both laughed.

“You needn’t think I’m curious,” said Patty; “I can easily wait until evening to see a picture of myself. I shall take it out of the frame anyway, and put some other picture in.”

When they reached Vernondale Kenneth went directly to his aunt’s and the others went to Mrs. Elliott’s.

The whole family rushed to the door to meet them, and there was a general hubbub of Christmas greetings.

The packages and bundles were whisked away by Frank into the parlour, whose doors were kept carefully closed until the time should come for the Christmas tree.

Marian took possession of Patty and held her by the hand as if afraid she would run away. “Oh, Patty,” she kept saying, “I’m so glad to see you again. Do stay a long time, won’t you?”

Ruth was by no means neglected, for the Elliotts were a large-hearted family, and dearly enjoyed giving pleasure to the stranger within their gates.

About half an hour after their arrival Mr. Fairfield looked at his watch, and declared that it was time for him to go down to the station to meet the Philadelphia train.

“Oh, is Nan coming?” exclaimed Patty, for this was a surprise to her.

“Well, I’ll just go down to the station in case she should come,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling.

“Oh, Aunt Alice,” cried Patty, “it was lovely of you to ask Nan! Now we’ll have the whole family together.”

Mr. Fairfield soon returned, bringing Nan, who looked more pretty and charming than ever, with a sprig of holly tucked among her furs.

Patty flew at her and welcomed her warmly, for she dearly loved Nan and had not seen her since the autumn.

“When are you coming to New York?” cried Patty, “and when—oh, when are you coming to live with us?”

“Mother and I are going to New York soon after the holidays,” said Nan, “but I don’t think I shall go to live with the Fairfields until about Easter time.”

Then such a merry Christmas dinner as they had! Everybody talked and laughed so much they almost forgot to eat the array of good things Aunt Alice had provided.

“Do you remember our last family party?” asked Patty. “It was at Boxley Hall, last New Year’s Day, and I sat at the head of the table.”

“Yes,” said Aunt Alice, “and a very graceful and capable little hostess you were.”

“And next Christmas,” said Mr. Fairfield, “the Fairfields will again entertain the Elliotts, and Mrs. Fairfield will preside at her own table.”

Nan blushed and smiled, and seconded the invitation very prettily.

After dinner Marian carried Ruth and Patty off to her own room to await the coming of the Tea Club girls. Marian and Ruth seemed to like each other at once, and when the other girls arrived they were also quite ready to make friends with the Boston visitor.

The Tea Club girls all brought little gifts to Patty, who had also prepared small Christmas remembrances for them.

The Tea Club had always been noted for its merry times, but to-day they fairly outdid themselves. Patty told them they were as merry as Grigs, and assured them that higher commendation was impossible.

Later, Nan joined the group, and as she was well known to the girls from her visit of the summer before, they were all delighted to see her again.

At six o’clock the Tea Club girls regretfully went home, all promising to call on Patty again early the next morning.

Then came the evening fun. Frank declared that there was not room for another parcel in the parlour. He said that the budget Nan brought was the last straw, and that when Mr. Hepworth and Kenneth arrived he hoped they’d have consideration enough not to bring any bundles.

But his hopes were in vain, for not only did the two come well laden, but Miss Daggett accompanied her nephew, and she, too, had her hands full.

However, room was made somehow, and at last Frank threw open the parlour doors and invited them all to come in.

Although the tree, with its decorations and candles, was ostensibly for the little children, Edith and Gilbert, yet everybody shared in the enjoyment of it.

And everybody had so many presents that they scarcely had time to look at the others’ gifts.

Mr. Fairfield gave Patty a dear little watch, and Nan gave her a chatelaine pin to wear with it. Marian gave her a ring, Ruth a book, and everybody present gave her some pretty token.

Kenneth announced that his gift for Patty was a portrait of herself, but he was not willing to exhibit it until after Mr. Hepworth’s portrait had been shown, for he felt sure his was the better likeness.

Mr. Hepworth looked a little surprised at this, but good-naturedly said he was quite willing to have his work criticised, and he unveiled a portrait which stood on an easel.

It was a beautiful picture of Patty, and though perhaps a trifle idealised, it was truly a portrait of the girl’s nature, and showed a face beaming with happiness, yet with earnest eyes that betokened the dawning of a sweet and true woman-hood.

Everybody was delighted with it. There could be no adverse criticism on such a beautiful piece of work.

While the others were exclaiming over its merits Patty expressed her thanks a little shyly to Mr. Hepworth.

“Thank you,” she said, “for thinking that I look like that. I wish I might think so, and I hope I may some day possess all that the picture seems to attribute to me.”

“You do, already,” said Mr. Hepworth.

Then Kenneth announced that he would now show his portrait of Patty.

“I don’t care,” he said, “for the opinion of anybody except Patty herself. Indeed, when the rest of you look at it I’m quite prepared to hear you say it doesn’t resemble her in the least. But I’m sure that Patty will say it is a perfect likeness.”

With a flourish the boy threw off the wrapping-papers and handed Patty a flat box. Patty took from the box a gilt Florentine frame, and holding it so that the others could see only the back, she gazed at the picture it contained and said:

“You are right, Kenneth, it is a perfect likeness! and I must confess it is a more exact portrait of me than Mr. Hepworth’s, though his is far more beautiful.”

Then Patty turned the frame around and showed that it contained no portrait at all, but a mirror!

How everybody laughed at Kenneth’s joke, and Mr. Hepworth picked up the mirror, and, looking in it, said: “Well, if you think that looks like Miss Fairfield! why, my picture of her is a much better likeness!”

“I said nobody would agree with me, except Patty,” replied Kenneth, “and I’m more than willing to admit the merits of your picture.”

The rest of the evening was spent in merry games and fun, and even the little children were allowed to sit up until the close of the festivities.

Miss Daggett enjoyed herself thoroughly, and so did Ruth. As for the Elliotts and Fairfields, it is not necessary to say that they had a good time.

“I suppose you care more for Mr. Hepworth’s gift than you do for mine,” said Kenneth, as he and Patty stood looking at the portrait later in the evening.

“I don’t know,” said Patty.

“Of course, his is of far greater value in every way,” went on Kenneth; “so if you did care more for mine, it would be because you cared more for me. Do you?”

“I don’t know,” said Patty.

“The Books you like to read at the price you like to pay.”

This Isn’t All!

There is a Grosset & Dunlap book for every member of your family.

CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS

Attractively Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers.

THE PATTY BOOKS

Patty is a lovable girl whose frank good nature and beauty lend charm to her varied adventures. These stories are packed with excitement and interest for girls.

THE MARJORIE BOOKS

Marjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full of goodness and sincerity. In her and her friends every girl reader will see much of her own love of fun, play and adventure.

THE TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES

Introducing Dorinda Fayre—a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and a little slow, and Dorothy Rose—a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes.

THE DICK AND DOLLY BOOKS

Dick and Dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories “really true” to young readers.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

THE LILIAN GARIS BOOKS

Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

Among her “fan” letters Lilian Garis receives some flattering testimonials of her girl readers’ interest in her stories. From a class of thirty comes a vote of twenty-five naming her as their favorite author. Perhaps it is the element of live mystery that Mrs. Garis always builds her stories upon, or perhaps it is because the girls easily can translate her own sincere interest in themselves from the stories. At any rate her books prosper through the changing conditions of these times, giving pleasure, satisfaction, and, incidentally, that tactful word of inspiration, so important in literature for young girls. Mrs. Garis prefers to call her books “juvenile novels” and in them romance is never lacking.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

AMY BELL MARLOWE’S BOOKS FOR GIRLS

Charming, Fresh and Original Stories

Illustrated. Wrappers Printed in Colors with individual design for each story

Miss Marlowe’s books for girls are somewhat of the type of Miss Alcott and also Mrs. Meade; but all are thoroughly up-to-date and wholly American in scene and action. Good, clean absorbing tales that all girls thoroughly enjoy.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

THE BLYTHE GIRLS BOOKS

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of The Outdoor Girls Series

Illustrated by Thelma Gooch

The Blythe Girls, three in number, were left alone in New York City. Helen, who went in for art and music, kept the little flat uptown, while Margy, just out of business school, obtained a position as secretary and Rose, plain-spoken and business like, took what she called a “job” in a department store. The experiences of these girls make fascinating reading—life in the great metropolis is thrilling and full of strange adventures and surprises.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

FOR HER MAJESTY—THE GIRL OF TODAY

THE POLLY BREWSTER BOOKS

By Lillian Elizabeth Roy

Polly and Eleanor have many interesting adventures on their travels which take them to all corners of the globe.

THE GIRL SCOUTS BOOKS

By Lillian Elizabeth Roy

The fun of living in the woods, of learning woodcraft, of canoe trips, of venturing in the wilderness.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

Transcriber’s Notes:

Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Punctuation and obvious typesetting errors have been corrected without note.

[End of Patty in the City, by Carolyn Wells]