think yourself privileged to break all the hearts you can."

"Some hearts are so brittle, it's no fun to break them," returned
Patty, carelessly, as she adjusted her headdress.

She was going to a Valentine party, where the guests were requested
to come in appropriate costume.

So Patty's gown was of white lace, softly draped with white chiffon.
On the modish tunic were love-knots of pale blue velvet, and a
border of tiny pink rosebuds. The head-dress, of gold filigree, was
a heart pierced by a dart; and on Patty's left shoulder, a dainty
little figure of Cupid was wobbling rather uncertainly.

"You'll lose that little God of War," said Nan.

"I don't care if I do," Patty answered; "he's a nuisance, anyway,
but I wanted something Valentinish, so I perched him up there. Now,
good-bye, Nancy Dancy, and I expect I'll be out pretty late."

"I shall send Louise for you at twelve, and you must be ready then."

"Oh, make it one. You know a Valentine party is lots of fun."

"Well, half-past twelve," agreed Nan, "and not a minute later!"

Then Louise wrapped Patty in a light blue evening cloak, edged with
white fur, and the happy maiden danced downstairs.

"Good-bye, Popsy-Poppet," she cried, looking in at the library door.