"I hope you will," cried Patty; "that is, I hope you'll come over, and
perhaps we can persuade you not to be in such a dreadful hurry to come
back."

"I had expected to run over in the early spring, anyway," said Mr.
Hepworth carelessly, as if it were a matter of no moment; "I want to do
certain French sketches that I've had my mind on for some time."

"Well, if you do come," said Elise cordially, "come right to our house
and I know we can put you up. The Farringtons are erratic, but always
hospitable; and I hereby invite this whole crowd to visit us in Paris,
either jointly or severally, whenever the spirit moves you."

"If I find a spirit that can move me over to Paris, I shall come often,"
declared Kenneth; "but I'm afraid I'm too substantially built to be
wafted across the ocean in the clutches of any spirit."

Just then the notes of a bugle sounded clear and sweet from below.

"That's the ship's bugler," declared Mr. Hepworth, "and that's the bugle
call for supper. Shall we go down and refresh ourselves?"

"Yes, indeed," cried Patty, jumping from her nest of steamer rugs; "I'm
as hungry as a hawk."

But it somehow happened that all of the gay young crowd left the Upper
Deck to go to the supper room before Patty and Mr. Hepworth started. He
detained her for a moment while he said: "Little girl, will you miss me
while you're away?"