"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.