“How did you know where we were?” said Bertha to her brother.

“We didn’t know,” said Winthrop, “but after we had hunted everywhere, and put a squad of policemen on your track, and got out the fire department, and sent for an ambulance, Hepworth, here, did a little detective work on his own account.”

“What did you do?” asked Patty.

“Why, nothing much,” said Mr. Hepworth, “I just tried to account for the various boats, and when I found one was missing, I thought you must have gone on the water somewhere.  And so I got a field glass and looked all around, and though I thought I saw your white flags fluttering.  I wasn’t sure, but I put over here on the chance.”

“Seems to me,” said Kenneth, “Hepworth is a good deal like that man in the story.  A horse had strayed away and several people had tried to find it, without success.  Presently, a stupid old countryman came up leading the horse.  When asked how he found it he only drawled out, ’Wal, I jest considered a spell.  I thought ef I was a horse whar would I go?  And I went there, ­and he had!’ That’s a good deal the way Hepworth did.”

They all laughed at Kenneth’s funny story, but Patty said, “It was a sort of intuition, but all the same I object to having Mr. Hepworth compared to a stupid old countryman.”

“I don’t care what I’m compared to,” said Mr. Hepworth, gaily, “as long as we’ve found you two runaways, and if we can get you back in time for the opening of the fair.”

The time was very short indeed, and as soon as they landed at the dock, Patty and Bertha started for the house to don their costumes as quickly as possible.

The Fair, or “Bazaar of all Nations,” as it was called, was really arranged on an elaborate scale.  It was held on the spacious grounds of Mr. Ashton, one of the wealthiest of the summer residents of Sandy Cove.

So many people had interested themselves in the charity, and so much enthusiasm had they put into their work, that when it was time to throw the gates open to the public, it was a festive and gorgeous scene indeed.

The idea of representing various nations had been picturesquely, if not always logically, carried out.

A Japanese tea-booth had been built with some regard to Japanese fashion, but with even more effort at comfort and attractive colour effects.  The young ladies who attended it wore most becoming Japanese costumes, and with slanting pencilled eyebrows, and Japanese headdresses, they served tea in Oriental splendour.

In competition with them was an English dairy, where the rosy-cheeked maids in their neat cotton dresses and white aprons dispensed cheese cakes and Devonshire cream to admiring customers.

The representatives of other countries had even more elaborate results to show for their labours.

Italy’s booth was a beautiful pergola, which had been built for the occasion, but which Mr. Ashton intended to keep as a permanent decoration.  Over the structure were beautiful vines and climbing plants, and inside was a gorgeous collection of blossoms of every sort.  Italian girls in rich-coloured costumes and a profuse array of jewelry sold bouquets or growing plants, and were assisted in their enterprise by swarthy young men who wore the dress of Venetian gondoliers, or Italian nobles, with a fine disregard of rank or caste.

Spain boasted a vineyard.  Mr. Hepworth had charge of this, and it truly did credit to his artistic ability.  Built on the side of a hill, it was a clever imitation of a Spanish vineyard, and large grape vines had been uprooted and transplanted to complete the effect.  To be sure, the bunches of grapes were of the hothouse variety, and were tied on the vines, but they sold well, as did also the other luscious fruits that were offered for sale in arbours at either end of the grapery.  The young Spaniards of both sexes who attended to the wants of their customers were garbed exactly in accordance with Mr. Hepworth’s directions, and he himself had artistically heightened the colouring of their features and complexions.

Germany offered a restaurant where delicatessen foods and tempting savories were served by Fraeuleins.  Helen Barlow was one of the jolliest of these, and her plump prettiness and long flaxen braids of hair suited well the white kerchief and laced bodice of her adopted country.

The French girls, with true Parisian instinct, had a millinery booth.  Here were sold lovely feminine bits of apparel, including collars, belts, laces and handkerchiefs, but principally hats.  The hats were truly beautiful creations, and though made of simple materials, light straw, muslin, and even of paper, they were all dainty confections that any summer girl might be glad to wear.  The little French ladies who exhibited these goods were voluble and dramatic, and in true French fashion, and with more or less true French language, they extolled the beauty of their wares.

In a Swiss chalet the peasants sold dolls and toys; in a Cuban construction, of which no one knew the exact title, some fierce-looking native men sold cigars, and in a strange kind of a hut which purported to be an Eskimo dwelling, ice cream could be bought.

The Stars and Stripes waved over a handsome up-to-date soda-water fountain, as the authorities had decided that ice-cream soda was the most typical American refreshment they could offer to their patrons.  But an Indian encampment also claimed American protection, and a group of Western cowboys took pride in their ranch, and even more pride in their swaggering costumes.

Altogether the Bazaar was a great show, and as it was to last for three days, nobody expected to exhaust all its entertainments in one visit.

The Romany Rest was one of the prettiest conceits, and though an idealised gypsy encampment, it proved a very popular attraction.

Half a dozen girls and as many young men wore what they fondly hoped looked enough like gypsy costumes to justify the name, but at any rate, they were most becoming and beautiful to look upon.

Patty was the gypsy queen, and looked like that personage as represented in comic opera.  Seated on a queerly constructed, and somewhat wobbly throne, she told fortunes to those who desired to know what the future held for them.

Apparently there was great curiosity in this respect, for Patty was kept steadily busy from the time she arrived at her place.

Other gypsies sold gaily coloured beads, amulets and charms, and others stirred a queer-looking brew in a gypsy kettle over a real fire, and sold cupfuls of it to those who wished in this way to tempt fate still further.

It was a perfect day, and the afternoon was progressing most satisfactorily.

Bertha was one of the Swiss peasants, and by dint of much hurrying, she and Patty had been able to get ready in time to join the parade of costumed attendants as they marched to their various stations.

Though had it not been for Mr. Phelps and his swift motor-car, they could scarcely have reached the fair grounds in time.

Elise was one of the Italian flower girls, and Kenneth also wore the garb of Italy.

Mr. Hepworth and Roger Farrington were ferocious-looking Indians, and brandished their tomahawks and tossed their feathered heads in fearsome fashion.

Dick Phelps was a cowboy, and his Herculean frame well suited the picturesque Western dress.  And Charlie Roland flattered himself that arrayed as a Chinaman he was too funny for anything.

Although Patty had become better acquainted with young Mr. Roland, she had not learned to like him.  His conceited ways and pompous manner seemed to her silly and artificial beside the frank comradeship of her other friends.

He came early to have his fortune told by the gypsy queen, and though, of course, Patty was in no way responsible for the way in which the cards fell, and though she told the fortunes strictly according to the instructions in a printed book, which she had learned by heart, she was not especially sorry when Mr. Roland’s fortune proved to be not altogether a desirable one.

But the young man was in nowise disconcerted.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, cheerfully, “I’ve had my fortune told lots of times, and things always happen just contrary to what is predicted.  But I say, Miss Romany, can’t you leave your post for a few minutes and go with me to the Japanese tea place, for a cup of their refreshing beverage?”

“Thank you ever so much,” said Patty, “but I really can’t leave here.  There’s a whole string of people waiting for their fortunes, and I must stand by my post.  Perhaps I can go later,” she added, for though she did not care for Charlie Roland’s attentions, she was too good-natured to wish to hurt his feelings.

“I consider that a promise,” said Mr. Roland, as he moved away to make place for the next seeker after knowledge.

Patty turned to her work, and thought no more of Charlie Roland and his undesirable invitation.

Soon Kenneth came to have his fortune told, for it had been arranged that each booth should have plenty of attendants, in order that they might take turns in leaving their posts and promenading about the grounds.  This was supposed to advertise their own particular nation, besides giving all a chance to see the sights.

Kenneth’s fortune proved to be a bright and happy one, but he was not unduly elated over it, for his faith in such things was not implicit.

“Thank you,” he said gravely, as Patty finished telling of the glories which would attend his future career.  “I don’t think there’s anything omitted from that string of good luck, unless it’s being President, and I’m not quite sure I want to be that.”

“Yes, you do,” said Patty, “every good American ought to want that, if only as a matter of patriotism.”

“Well, I’m patriotic enough,” said Kenneth, “and I’ll want it if you want me to want it.  And now, Patty, you’ve worked here long enough for the present.  Let somebody else take your place, and you come with me for a walk about the grounds.  I’ll take you to the pergola, and we’ll buy some flowers from Elise.”

“I’d love to go, Ken, but truly I ought to stay here a while longer.  Lots of people want their fortune told, and nobody can do it but me, because I learnt all that lingo out of a book.  No, I can’t go now.  Run along, ­I’m busy.”

Patty spoke more shortly than she meant to, for the very reason that she wanted to go with Kenneth, but she felt it her duty to remain at her post.

Kenneth appreciated the principle of the thing, but he thought that Patty might have been a little kinder about it.  His own temper was a little stirred by the incident, and rising quickly, he said, “All right, stay here, then!” And turning on his heel, he sauntered carelessly away.

Patty looked after him, thinking what a handsome boy he was, and how well his Italian suit became him.  Kenneth’s skin was naturally rather dark, and his black eyes and hair and heavy eyebrows were somewhat of the Italian type.  His white linen blouse was slightly turned in at the throat and he wore a crimson silk tie, and sash to match, knotted at one side.  A broad-brimmed hat of soft grey felt sat jauntily on his head, and as he swung himself down the path, Patty thought she had never seen him look so well.

Soon after this, Charlie Roland came back again.

“I’ve brought someone to help you out,” he said, as he introduced a young girl who accompanied him.  “This is Miss Leslie and she knows fortune telling from the ground up.  Give her a red sash, and a bandana handkerchief to tie around her head, and let her take your place, if only for a short time; and you come with me to buy some flowers.  Do you know, your costume really calls for some scarlet blossoms in your hair, and over in the pergola they have some red geraniums that are simply great.  Come on, let’s get some.”

Patty did want some red flowers, and had meant to have some, but she dressed in such a hurry that there was no time to find any.  Moreover, she had never known Charlie Roland to appear to such good advantage.  He seemed to have dropped his pompous manner with his civilised dress, and in his comical Chinaman’s costume, he seemed far more attractive than in his own everyday dress.  And since he had provided her with a substitute, Patty saw no reason for refusing his invitation.

So together they left the Romany Rest, and walked about the Fair, chatting with people here and there, until they reached the pergola.

Elise was delighted to see them, and while the Italian girls besought Mr. Roland to buy their flowers, the Italian young men clustered around Patty, and with merry laugh and jest, presented her with sundry floral offerings.

There was one exception, however; Kenneth stood aloof.  For the first time in his life, he felt that Patty had intentionally slighted him.  He had asked her to come to the pergola for flowers, and she had refused.  Then a few minutes later she had accepted a similar invitation from that stupid young Roland.  Kenneth was obliged to admit to himself that young Roland did not look stupid just at present, for he had some talent as a comedian, and was acting the part of a funny Chinaman with success.  But that didn’t make any difference to Kenneth, and he looked reproachfully at Patty, as she accepted the flowers and gay compliments from her attendant cavalier.

Patty had intended to explain to Kenneth why it had been possible for her to leave the gypsy camp in charge of another fortune teller, but when she saw the boy’s moody expression and sulky attitude her sense of humour was touched, and she giggled to herself at the idea of Kenneth being angry at such a trifle.

She thought it distinctly silly of him, and being in a mischievous mood, she concluded he ought to be punished for such foolishness.  So instead of smiling at him, she gave him only a careless glance, and then devoted her attention to the others.

Patty was a general favourite, and her happy, sunny ways made friends for her wherever she went.  She was therefore surrounded by a crowd of merry young people, some of whom had just been introduced to her, and others whom she had known longer; and as she laughed and chatted with them, Kenneth began to think that he was acting rather foolishly, and longed to join the group around the gypsy queen.

But the boy was both sensitive and proud, and he could not quite bring himself to overlook what he considered an intentional unkindness on the part of Patty.

So, wandering away from the pergola, he visited other booths, and chatted with other groups, determined to ignore Patty and her perversities.

Patty, not being an obtuse young person, saw through all this, and chose to be amused by it.

“Dear old Ken,” she thought to herself, “what a goose he is!  I’ll get Nan to ask him to have supper with us all in the English Dairy, and then I expect he’ll thaw out that frozen manner of his.”

Feeling that she ought to return to her own post, Patty told her Chinaman so, and together they went back to the Romany Rest; but as Patty was about to take her place again at the fortune teller’s table, Mr. Phelps came along and desired her to go with him, and have her photograph taken.  At first Patty demurred, though she greatly wanted to go, but Miss Leslie said she was not at all tired of fortune telling, and would gladly continue to substitute for Patty a while longer.

“Come on, then,” said Dick Phelps, “there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, since Miss Leslie is kind enough to fill your place.”

Patty still hesitated, for she thought that Kenneth would be still more offended if he saw her walking around with Mr. Phelps, after having told him that she could not leave the gypsy camp.

But Dick Phelps was of an imperious nature.  He was accustomed to having his own way, and was impatient at Patty’s hesitation.

“Come on,” he said.  “March!” And taking her by the arm, he led her swiftly down the path toward the photograph booth.

As he strode along, cowboy fashion, Patty said, meekly, “Let go of my arm, please, Mr. Phelps.  I think you’ve broken two bones already!  And don’t walk so fast.  I’m all out of breath!”

“Forgive me,” said Dick Phelps, suddenly checking his speed, and smiling down at the girl beside him, “you see this cowboy rig makes me feel as if I were back on the plains again, and I can’t seem to adjust myself to civilised conditions.”

Mr. Phelps looked very splendid as a cowboy, and Patty listened with interest, as he told her of an exciting episode which had occurred during his ranch life, in a distant western territory.

So engrossed did they become in this conversation that the photographs were forgotten for the moment, and they strolled along past the various booths, unheeding the numerous invitations to enter.

Of course Kenneth saw them, and from a trifling offence, Patty’s conduct seemed to him to have grown into a purposed rudeness.

As they passed him, Patty smiled pleasantly, and paused, saying, “We’re all going to have supper in the Dairy, and of course you’ll be with us, Ken?”

“Of course I won’t!” said Kenneth, and deliberately turning on his heel, he walked the other way.