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Miss Jinny, who was still enshrouded save for the torn veil, gave the last pat to Patricia's gauzes, and handed the pink silk cloak to the admiring maid, before she spoke. Then she looked Patricia over thoroughly and gave her husky chuckle. Patricia, promising to give Doris' messages to Elinor and the rest, hurried off, leaving the drawing-room windows once more blank and impassive. She ran into the studio as Griffin was rising to go, with her umbrella, reclaimed from the stand, still dripping slow occasional drops unheeded on the polished floor. "The March Hare?" queried Patricia, much elated by this exhilarating society, and wishing more ardently than ever that she were fitted for this fascinating class..

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Elinor gave her a loving look, and Patricia, appropriating a corner of her big muff, gave her hand a surreptitious squeeze. "'An Arabian Nights Entertainment,'" read Patricia, mumbling in her haste. "'No guests admitted unless in costume' … m-m-m-m … 'The Sultan Haroun-al-Raschid' … Oh, I see! We can rig up in anything we choose,—so that it looks sort of Turkish. Dee-licious! I know what to do with my rose-colored cloak right now!" "Rubbish, my boy. It has been hanging on the wall for years, and has never hurt anyone yet!" Leaf I. The Bachelor's-Buttons..