CHAPTER III.
PATSY.
"Now, Major, stand up straight and behave yourself! How do you expect me to sponge your vest when you're wriggling around in that way ?" "Patsy, dear, you're so sweet this evening, I just had to kiss your lips." "Don't do it again, sir," replied Patricia, severely, as she scrubbed the big man's waistcoat with a damp cloth.

"And tell me, Major, how you ever happened to get into such a disgraceful condition." "The soup just shpilled," said the Major, meekly.
Patricia laughed merrily.

She was a tiny thing, appearing to be no more than twelve years old, although in reality she was sixteen.

Her hair was a decided red--not a beautiful "auburn," but really red--and her round face was badly freckled.

Her nose was too small and her mouth too wide to be beautiful, but the girl's wonderful blue eyes fully redeemed these faults and led the observer to forget all else but their fascinations.