“Just look at this!” Patricia thrust the magic papers into his hand. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

Mr. Randall read the brief message, turned the check over and over as if to discover its sender by inspecting it from all sides, and then looked inquiringly at his wife and daughter.

“Is this a joke of some kind?”

“Joke!” retorted Patricia in disgust. “I should say not! A messenger just brought it, special delivery.”

“Strange, very strange,” commented her father, shaking his head. “Do you know anything about it, Mary?” addressing his wife, with a suspicious look.

“I most certainly do not. Do you?”

“You ought to know that I don’t. Where would I get that much money? Didn’t we send Pat here to Brentwood College last year because we couldn’t afford to send her away?”

“Keep your shirt on, Dad!” laughed Patricia. “Keep your shirt on, and say I may go.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” replied the puzzled man, sinking heavily into his favorite chair, and pulling his pipe out of his pocket.

“Do you suppose,” began Patricia, perching on the arm of her father’s chair, “that Aunt Betsy could have gotten big-hearted and sent it?”

“Pat!” cried her mother derisively. “Of course not. She has all she can do to keep Ted in college.”

“Be rather nice for me, having Ted at Granard,” mused Patricia, recalling her cousin’s beguiling ways and good looks.

“And having Aunt Betsy there to keep an eye on both of you,” added her mother.

“Some eye! She’ll probably never know I’m there,” laughed Patricia. “Darling Ted takes up all of her time and attention.”

“You two women,” remarked Mr. Randall peevishly, “seem to have this affair all settled.”

“Well, you see, darling, we felt quite sure you would let me go,” laughed Patricia, ruffling up his hair. “You’re going to, aren’t you?” bending down to look pleadingly into his eyes. “You know I’ve longed to go out of town to college where I could live in a dorm. Not that I don’t like living at home, but—”

“We understand,” interrupted her mother; “you need not be apologetic.”

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