At last the day of sailing came. The steamer was to leave her dock at three o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and soon after two Patty went on board, accompanied by Nan and her father.

A crowd of friends had also gathered to bid Patty goodspeed, and besides these the Farringtons had many friends there to say good-bye to them.

With the exception of Marian, it was not a sad parting. Indeed it seemed rather a hilarious occasion than otherwise. This was partly because most of the persons concerned felt truly sorry to miss Patty's bright presence out of their lives, and feared that if they showed any regret the situation might become too much for them.

Hilda and Lorraine felt this especially, and they were so absurdly gay that it was quite clear to Patty that their gaiety was assumed. But she was grateful to them for it, for, as she had previously confided to Nan, she didn't want a weepy, teary crowd to bid her good-bye; she wanted to go away amid laughter and smiles.

As the brief hour before sailing passed, more and more people came to see them off, and Patty began to think that everybody she ever knew would be there.

Many of the friends brought gifts, and many had already sent fruit or flowers, both to the Farringtons and to Patty. Down in the dining-saloon a whole table was occupied with the gifts to their party, and more than a fair proportion of these belonged to Patty. She was quite bewildered, for sailing away from her native land was a new experience to her, and it had never occurred to her that it would include this elaborate profusion of farewell gifts.

There was a great basket of red roses from Winthrop Warner, and Bertha had sent a box of candy. Roger had sent candy, too, and Kenneth had sent a beautiful basket of fruit that seemed to include every known variety. Nor were the gifts only from Patty's intimate friends. She was surprised to learn how many of her acquaintances and relatives and casual friends had sent a token of good wishes for her voyage. The truth is that Patty was a general favourite and made friends with all whom she met.

Mr. Hepworth had once told her that she was a Dispenser of Happiness. If so, she was now reaping the reward, for her friends had surely showered happiness upon her.

And besides the table full of gifts there were many letters and telegrams in the ship's little post-office. These delighted Patty, too, and she laid the budget aside to enjoy after the trip had fairly begun.

Among the last to arrive was Mr. Hepworth. He brought no fruit or flowers, but he was followed by a messenger boy fairly staggering under the weight of his burden.

"I knew, Patty," he said, "that you'd have all the flowers and fruit and sweets you could possibly want, so I've brought you a different kind of gift."

"There seems to be plenty of it," said Patty as she looked at the small boy. His arms were full of papers and magazines, which, as they afterward discovered, included every newspaper, magazine, and weekly periodical published in New York.

"You know," said Mr. Hepworth, "you can't get current reading matter after you start, and a good deal of this stuff you won't find in Paris, either; though you can get American publications there more easily than you can in London. But read what you want, Patty, and pitch the rest overboard."

The boy was directed to carry his load to Patty's stateroom and deposit it there. Patty thanked Mr. Hepworth for his thoughtful gift, and said she would read every word of it and probably carry a great deal of it ashore with her.

"Come on, Patty," said Kenneth, "we're going to see where your deck chairs are, so we can have a mental picture of just how you're going to look for the next week or so."

About a dozen merry young people trooped up the next deck and found the chairs that had been reserved for the Farrington party. But when Patty saw them she burst out laughing. The two that were intended for herself and Elise had been decorated in an absurd fashion. They were tied with ribbon bows and bunches and garlands of flowers. They were filled with fancy pillows, and tied on in several places were letters and small packages done up in paper.

"They look like ridiculous Christmas trees," cried Patty. "I'm crazy to open those bundles, for I know they're full of foolishness that you girls have rigged up for us."

"Don't open them now," said Hilda, "for we have to leave you and go ashore in a few moments. Now, Patty, you will write to us, won't you?"

"I rather think I will," cried Patty; "you've all been so good to me I never could thank you enough if I wrote every day and all day."

"Come with me, Patty," said Kenneth; "I want to show you something up at this end of the ship."

So Patty went off with Kenneth, and when they were well away from the laughing crowd he drew a small box from his pocket and gave it to her, saying: "Patty, you mustn't think I'm a sentimental fool, for I'm not; but I wish you'd wear that while you're away, and sometimes think of me."

Patty flashed a comical glance at him.

"Good gracious, Ken," she exclaimed, "it's an awful funny thing, this going away; it makes all your friends so serious and so afraid you'll forget them. Of course I shall think of you while I'm away."

"Who else has been asking you to think of him?" growled Kenneth; "that ridiculous Hepworth, I suppose! Well, now look here, miss, you're to think of me twice to his once. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I understand," said Patty demurely; "and now may I look in the box before I promise to wear your gift? It might be a live beetle. I saw a lady once who wore a live beetle attached to a tiny gold chain. Oh, it was awful!"

"It isn't a live beetle," said Kenneth, smiling, "but it is attached to a tiny gold chain. Yes, of course you may look at it, and if you don't like it you needn't wear it."

So Patty opened the box and discovered a little gold locket, set with tiny pearls and hanging from a slender gold chain. It was very graceful and dainty, and Patty's first impulse was one of delight. But as she looked up and met Kenneth's serious gaze she suddenly wondered if she were promising too much to say she would wear it.

"What's inside of it?" she inquired, as if to gain time.

"Look and see."

Patty opened the locket and found it contained a most attractive picture of Kenneth's handsome, boyish face.

"What a splendid likeness!" she exclaimed; "you're awfully good-looking, Ken, and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll wear the locket with pleasure—sometimes, you know, not all the time, of course—until I find somebody who is handsomer than you, or—whom I like better."

"Pooh," cried Kenneth, "I don't care how often you replace it with a picture of a handsomer man, but, Patty, I don't want you to find any one you like better. Promise me you won't."

"Oh, I can't promise that, Ken. Just think of the fascinating Frenchmen I shall probably meet, with their waxed moustaches and their dandified manners. How can I help liking them better than a plain, unvarnished American boy?"

"All right, my lady; if you set your affections on a French popinjay, I'll come over there and fight a duel with him. I know you're too sensible to look at those addle-pated dandies, but I wish you'd promise not to like anybody better than THIS plain, unvarnished American boy."

"I won't promise you anything, Ken," said Patty, not unkindly, but with a gentle, definite air. "I thank you for your locket. It is beautiful, and I do love pretty things. I'll wear it sometimes; let me see, to-day is Saturday; well, I'll wear it every Saturday; that will insure your being thought of at least once a week."

And with this Kenneth had to be content, for a roguish laugh appeared in Patty's eyes and he knew she would not treat matters seriously any further.

Dropping the locket in her little handbag, Patty turned to go back to the others.

"But you're not keeping your promise," said Kenneth, detaining her.

"What promise?"

"You said you'd wear the locket on Saturdays, and to-day is Saturday."

Patty was a little embarrassed. She knew if she went back to the group with the trinket hanging round her neck, every one would know at once that Kenneth had given it to her, and they would surmise far more than the simple, truth. And she was especially conscious that Mr. Hepworth would notice it, and would think it meant all Kenneth had wanted it to mean, which was far more than she had accepted it as meaning.

Kenneth saw her hesitation and stood watching her.

"Wear it, dear," he said quietly; "an old friend like myself has a perfect right to give you a little keepsake." Then Patty had an inspiration. She clasped the little chain about her neck and then tucked the locket down inside her collar so that it was entirely out of sight.

"You little witch!" cried Kenneth as she raised her laughing eyes to his; "but at any rate you're wearing it, and that's all I asked of you."

"Yes," said Patty; and, as gaily and unaffectedly as a child, she grasped Kenneth's hand and ran down the long deck to join the others.

Although determined to ignore the episode, Patty's cheeks bore a heightened colour and she let poor Kenneth severely alone, devoting her attention to the others.

But it was nearly time: for the last farewell to be said, and indeed some of the party had said good-bye and left the steamer.

And then again Patty was carried off for a little confidential talk at the other end of the deck, and this time it was by her father.

He seemed to have many final bits of advice to give her regarding the minutiae of her journey, her money matters, her relation toward the Farringtons, and her correct demeanour in many ways.

"I'm not at all afraid to trust you out of my sight, Patty, girl," he said, "for I have absolute faith in your common sense and your good judgment. I know you won't do anything wrong or unladylike, but I want to warn you, my little girl, not to get mixed up in any romantic adventures. You're altogether too young for that sort of thing, and I warn you I sha'n't allow you to be engaged to anybody for years and years to come." Patty laughed merrily at this. "Indeed, papa," she said, "nothing is further from my mind than any such performance as you suggest, and I haven't the slightest desire to think of being engaged until I'm at least as old as Nan. And anyway, I don't believe anybody would like me well enough to want to be engaged to me. Oh—that is—unless it might be Kenneth."

And then Patty told her father the whole story of Kenneth and the locket.

"You did just right, Patty," said her father. "Kenneth is a nice boy, but he is altogether too young, and you are, too, to attach any sentimental significance to his gift. Wear the locket if you want to, or when you want to, but let it be understood that it means nothing more than the merest friendly keepsake."

"Yes, that's just what I think," said Patty, with an air of satisfaction at this prosaic settlement of the subject. "Oh, papa, you're the only one I'm going to miss very much, you and Nan; but especially you."

"I know it, my girl; we have been a great deal to each other all these years, and of course we shall miss each other. But the time will soon pass away, and since we have to part we must be brave about it, and we must not spoil the happiness of it by the sorrow of it."

"Dear papa," said Patty, squeezing his hand, "you are always so wise and good. That's just the point; we must not spoil the happiness by the sorrow, though that is what Marian is always trying to do. Poor Marian, she's such a pathetic creature; I wish she would cheer up."

"I think she will, Patty. Nan and I are going to take her home with us and keep her for a fortnight or more, and we'll make her so gay that she'll forget you're gone."

"Good for you, papa; that's lovely! You do think of the nicest things for people!"

"Well, now, chickabiddy, I suppose I'll have to leave you. Keep up a good heart and a spirit of cheerfulness. Stick to your sense of proportion and your sense of humor. Remember that the time will soon pass, and pass happily, too; and then you'll come sailing back to this very dock, and I'll be here waiting for you."

They rejoined the group and then the farewells began in earnest. Patty was embraced and kissed by all the girls, until Nan declared there would be nothing left for her to say good-bye to. The men shook hands and expressed hearty good wishes, and with one last kiss from her father Patty was left alone with the Farringtons.

As the steamer sailed away there was much waving of handkerchiefs and flags, and the friends on shore were kept in sight just as long as possible.

But when they could no longer be distinguished, Patty said: "Come on, Elise; let's do something to occupy our minds, or I feel sure I shall cry like a baby in spite of my noble and brave resolutions."

"All right," said Elise, "I'm with you. Let's go down and put things to rights in our stateroom."

So down they went on their errand. The girls were to share the same stateroom, and as it was large and conveniently arranged, they were glad to be together. But as they entered the door they nearly fell over in astonishment, for sitting on the sofa, with his paws extended in welcome, was a very large, very white, and very fleecy "Teddy Bear." In one paw he held a card on which was written:

Oh Patty dear,
Oh Elise dear,
We don't want you to go away;
But if you will,
Keep with you still
This merry little stowaway.

CHAPTER VI
THE OLD MA'AMSELLE

The girls laughed heartily over the Teddy Bear, and agreed that it was a delightful companion for their trip. Elise set him up on the little shelf above the washstand, and he gazed down upon them like a fat and good-natured patron saint. Patty named him Yankee Doodle, and gave him an American flag to hold; but Elise, not wishing to seem to slight the French nation, gave him a silken tri-colour of France to hold in his other paw. Apparently unprejudiced in his sympathies, Yankee Doodle held both flags, and continued to wear his jolly and complacent grin.

It was great fun for the girls to arrange their stateroom. As they expected to occupy it for the next ten days, they proceeded to make it as homelike as possible. They both had so many cabin bags and wall pockets and basket catchalls which had been parting gifts that it was difficult to find wall space for them all. Patty was to occupy the lower berth and Elise the wide and comfortable sofa. For they concluded they could chatter better if on a level. This left the upper berth as a broad shelf for books and magazines, boxes of candy, and all the odds and ends of their belongings.

"Isn't it perfectly wonderful," said Patty, "to think we are already miles away from land, and dancing away over this blue water!"

As Patty was standing on the sofa, with her head stuck out through the porthole, Elise could not hear a word of this speech; so unless the fishes were interested it was entirely lost. But this mattered little to Patty, and soon she pulled her head in and made the same remark over again.

"Well," said Elise, who was matter-of-fact, "when people take passage on an ocean steamer they often expect to get a few miles away from land after they start."

"Oh, Elise," cried Patty, "have you no imagination? Of course it isn't wonderful to consider the FACT of our sailing out to sea, but the IDEA of dancing away over the blue water is poetic and therefore wonderful."

"I'm glad you explained it to me, and I dare say the more the ship dances, the more wonderful it will be. And so let's get these things straightened out before the dancing grows mad and hilarious."

"All right," said Patty good-naturedly; and she went to work with a will, stowing away things and tacking up things, until everything was snugly in place.

Mrs. Farrington's maid accompanied the party, but both Elise and Patty, being energetic young Americans, had small use for her services. She was a help, though, in the matter of back buttons and hair ribbons, and she came now rapping at the stateroom door with a message from Mrs. Farrington that the girls were to dress for dinner. At the same moment the pretty bugle-call rang out that marked the half hour before dinner-time.

"Isn't it fun," cried Patty, "to have the dressing-bell a trumpet? Except at my own party the other night I've never been bugled to my meals. What shall we wear, Elise?"

"Not our prettiest dresses. We must save those for the concert, or whatever gaieties they may have. Put on that blue checked silk of yours, Patty; it's the sweetest thing, and just right for dinner, and I'll wear my light green one."

With slight assistance from Lisette, the French maid, they were soon ready. Patty envied Lisette her fluency in the French tongue, for though all the officers on board and most of the passengers spoke English, Patty wished she could talk French more readily than she did. She found it good practice to talk to Lisette in her own language, as the mistakes she made did not embarrass her. Lisette, of course, was a great admirer of pretty Patty, and was only too glad to be of assistance to her linguistically or any other way.

Another bugle-call announced dinner, and, joining Mr. and Mrs. Farrington, the girls went down to the dining saloon. Their seats were at the captain's table, and Patty thought she had never seen such a profusion of beautiful flowers as graced the board. The stewards had placed the flowers of all the passengers upon the tables, and, with the lights and ornate decorations of the Louis XVI. saloon, it was like fairyland. The walls and ceiling were elaborately decorated in dainty French fashion, and the table service was exceedingly attractive. Patty was much amused at the revolving chair which she had to learn how to get into, but after being twirled to her place she concluded it was a wise provision for a dining-room of such uncertain level.

Mrs. Farrington sat at the captain's right hand, and next to her was her husband, then Elise, and then Patty. Patty at once began to wonder who would occupy the chair next beyond herself, and was exceedingly interested when the steward turned it around to accommodate a lady who was approaching.

The newcomer was without doubt a Frenchwoman, somewhat elderly, but very vigorous and active. She had masses of snow-white hair, and large, alert, black eyes that seemed to dart quickly from one point of interest to another. She was a little lady, but her gait and manner were marked by an air not only of aristocracy, but as of one accustomed to exert absolute authority. Nor was she apparently of a mild and amiable disposition. She spoke sharply to the steward, although he was doing his best to serve her.

"And is it that you shall be all night in arranging my chair?" she exclaimed. Then, as she was finally seated, she continued her grumbling. "And is it not enough that I must be delayed, but still I have received no MENU? One shall see if this is to be permitted!"

The steward did not seem unduly alarmed at the little old lady's angry speech, but hastened to bring her the daintily printed bill of fare.

Raising her jewelled lorgnon, the French lady scanned the MENU, and having made a choice of soup, she laid the card down, and turning toward Patty surveyed her leisurely through her glasses.

Her manner as she scrutinised Patty was by no means rude or impertinent. It had rather the effect of an honest curiosity and a polite interest.

"There is no denying, my dear," she said at last, "that you are of a beauty. And of a sweetness. An American of Americans. New York—is it not so?"

There was an indefinable charm about the old lady's manner that won Patty's heart at once, and though in any case she would have been polite, she answered with cordiality:

"Yes, madame, I live in New York, although I was born in the South and lived there for many years."

"Ah, then, it is explained. It is your Southern States that make the charm, the aplomb, without the—what you call—the—the freshness. Is it not so? But I do not mean the freshness of the cheek; and yet, in the argot do you not say freshness is cheek? Ah, I am bewildered; I am mixup with your strange words; but I will learn them! They shall not conquer me! And you will help me; is it not so?"

"I will help you with pleasure, madame," replied Patty, dimpling with fun as she heard the old lady's unsuccessful attempts in American slang. "My name is Patty Fairfield; and though I seldom use the slang of my country, I'm more or less familiar with its terms, and can enlighten you concerning them, at least to a degree. To me your language is difficult; but perhaps we may by conversation help each other."

"Patty Fairfield; a pleasant name for a pleasant child. But I'm not madame; pray call me ma'amselle. I am Ma'amselle Labesse."

"You are a Frenchwoman, of course?" inquired Patty.

"A Frenchwoman, yes; but of an admiration for your strange American country. I go home now, but I shall return again. Your country is of an interest."

As Patty looked around at the others at their table, she felt that she had been fortunate in sitting next to the old ma'amselle. For though she could not judge entirely by appearances, no one else at the table seemed to be so quaintly interesting as the old French lady.

Patty soon discovered that even a "few miles of dancing upon the blue water" had decidedly sharpened her appetite, and she did full justice to the delicate viands and delicious French cookery placed before her. She and Elise chatted happily, and after introducing her companions on either side to each other the conversation became general.

Under the influence of the comradeship always felt on a French liner, the people across the table became sociably inclined, and acquaintances were made rapidly.

After dinner our party went out on deck, and though warm wraps were necessary, the crisp, clear air was delightful, and the starry sky and tumbling black water fascinated Patty beyond all words. She leaned against the rail, watching the waves as they dashed and plashed below, breaking into white foam as the steamer ploughed through them. Patty was very susceptible to new impressions, and the great expanse of black water beneath the dome of the star-studded black sky filled her with an awe and reverence which she had never known before.

Elise stood quietly beside her, with her hand through Patty's arm, and together the girls silently enjoyed the sombre beauty of the scene.

"Are you afraid, Patty?" asked Elise.

Patty laughed a little, and then she said: "I don't know as I can make you understand it, Elise, for it sounds so ridiculous when it's put into words. But it's this way with me: In my imagination, when I think of this little cockleshell of a boat tossing on this great, deep, black ocean, which may engulf it at any moment, I have a certain feeling of fear, which seems to belong to the situation. But really, my common sense tells me that these staunch steamships are constructed for the very purpose of carrying people safely across the sea, and that there is almost no danger at all of their doing otherwise. So you see it only depends on whether I'm in a mood of poetical imagination or practical common sense as to whether I'm afraid or not."

"Patty," said Elise, with a little sigh, "you are certainly clever. Now I never could have reasoned the thing out like that, and yet I see just what you mean."

"Throw bouquets at yourself, then, Elise," said Patty, laughing, "for you're a great deal more clever to see what I mean than I am to say it!"

After a brisk walk up and down the deck for a time the girls tucked themselves snugly into their deck chairs by the side of the elder Farringtons.

"How do you like it so far, Patty?" asked Mr. Farrington.

"It's simply perfect," declared Patty enthusiastically. "It's awfully different from what I thought it would be, and ever so much nicer. I thought it would be impossible to walk across the deck without tumbling all over and catching hold of everything. But we can walk around just as if in a house, and everything is comfortable, even luxurious, and it's all so clean."

Mrs. Farrington laughed at this. "Of course it's clean, child," she said; "it's only on land that we are under the tyranny of dust and dirt. But as for tumbling around the deck, that may come later. Don't imagine the sea is never rougher than it is to-night."

"I hope it will be rougher," said Patty. "I don't want a fearful storm, but I would like a little pitching and tossing."

"You'll probably get it," said Mr. Farrington. "And now, my cherished ones, let us take a look in at the library and drawing-room, and then let us seek our staterooms."

So the parry adjourned to the brilliantly lighted saloon, where many of the passengers had congregated to spend the after-dinner hour. It was a beautiful apartment, even more gorgeous and elaborate than the dining-room, and furnished with inviting-looking easy-chairs, sofas, and divans of puffy upholstery. Gilt-framed tables were scattered about for the benefit of the card-players, and attractively appointed writing-desks made Patty suddenly realise that she wanted to write letters home at once. But remembering that they could not possibly be mailed for ten days to come, she decided to defer them at least until the morrow.

Well-filled bookcases attracted the girls' attention, and notwithstanding the large amount of reading matter they had of their own, they were glad to see some well-known favourites behind the glass doors.

Patty was surprised when Mr. Farrington proposed that they should all go to the dining-room for a bit of supper before retiring. It seemed to her but a short time since they had dined; and yet she realised the suggestion was not entirely unwelcome.

"Is it imperative that we shall eat more meals on sea than on land?" she inquired, as they took their places at the table.

"Not imperative, perhaps," the captain answered her, smiling, "but unless you seem to appreciate my cook's efforts to please you I shall have to pitch him overboard; and it is not easy to find another chef in mid-ocean."

"Then," said Patty gaily, "I shall certainly do all I can to save the poor man from a dreadful fate. And it does not seem to me that I shall have any difficulty in keeping my part of the bargain." As Patty spoke she was nibbling away with great satisfaction at a caviare sandwich and bestowing a pleased glance on a glass of orange sherbet which the steward had just brought to her.

The captain was a large and important-looking personage, with the black moustache and imperiale of the true Frenchman. His manner was expansive and very cordial; and as he had known the Farringtons for many years he was quite ready to welcome Patty for their sake as well as her own. Indeed, he had taken an immediate liking to the pretty American girl, and as French captains are prone to make favourites among their passengers, Patty was immediately assigned in his chivalrous heart to such a position.

He bade her a pleasant good-night as she left the dining-room, and was delighted with her naive expressions of admiration and appreciation of his beautiful ship.

When the girls reached their stateroom they suddenly realised that they were quite tired out after the excitements of the day, and were very glad to let Lisette brush their hair and assist them in preparing for bed. As Patty nestled snugly between the coarse linen sheets she felt a drowsy enjoyment of the gentle rolling motion of the steamer, and almost immediately fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.