On the night of the musicale at Marie Homer's, her talented cousin
arrived long before any guests were expected.

"I couldn't wait, Aunt Frances," he said, as Mrs. Homer greeted him.
"I'm so impatient to see My Girl."

Kit had told the Homers of the telephone conversations, because he
was so anxious to find out his lady's name. Of course, he had not
told all they said, and from his incoherent ravings about a black-
haired beauty Marie never guessed he could mean Patty.

"You're a foolish boy, Kit," said his Aunt.

"I don't believe that girl is any one we know, but is some
mischievous hoyden who is leading you a dance. You won't see her to-
night,--if you ever do."

"Then I shall think up the easiest death possible, and die it,"
declared Kit, cheerfully. "Why, you know, Aunt Frances, I never took
any interest in a girl before, except of course Marie and Bee, but
this girl is so different from everybody else in the world. Her
voice is like a chime of silver bells,--and her laugh----"

"There, there, Kit, I haven't time to listen to your rhapsodies!
You're here altogether too early, and you'll have to excuse me, for
I have some household matters to look after. Marie isn't quite
dressed yet, so you'll have to amuse yourself for awhile. Play some
sentimental music on your violin, if that fits your mood."

With a kindly smile at her nephew, Mrs. Homer bustled away, and Kit