As quickly as possible the answer came back.
It was a rainy day, and Adele sent the chauffeur to Maple Bank after it.
The three gathered in Patty's room to hear it read, and were not surprised that it ran after this manner:
How could you know the dearest way to sign yourself? Any other word would have spoiled it! But Belle! My beautiful one! I MUST see you! The picture is just what I anticipated, only more sweet and soulful. You are an angel, and I must see you or die. Do not make me wait. May I fly to Maple Bank at once? Meet me somewhere. No one will know it,—but I must look once into those dear eyes!
Your own
"Oh, Kit, Kit!" exclaimed Patty, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes; "I didn't know you COULD be such an idiot! Adele, we must have him come up here."
"Oh, of course. How shall we arrange a meeting?"
"I'll tell you," said Daisy, "write him that Belle will meet him in front of the Maple Bank post-office. Then let Patty meet him, you know, and we'll sit in the car and see the fun."
"All right," Patty agreed. "WON'T he be mad when he sees ME!"
So they wrote:
I knew we were made for each other. I, too, feel that I must see you. But our meeting must be secret. I cannot risk my people knowing about it. So, will you meet me in front of the Maple Bank post-office at four o'clock on Thursday afternoon? I would like a more secluded place, but I dare not. The post-office is on a beautiful maple-shaded street and we can meet casually, as if we were ordinary passersby. You must only speak with me a few moments, and let me look once deep in your eyes, and then you must pass on,—out of my life forever! But I shall have at least one moment of blissful rapture! You will know me, because I shall wear white, with pink roses in my hat, and a pink parasol. I can hardly wait for Thursday! Come soon to
Your
"I rather guess that'll fetch him," observed Patty, complacently, as she sealed the envelope. "I knew Kit was a romantic goose, but I didn't suppose he'd be up to these tricks."
"Of course we'll bring him home with us, Patty," said Adele.
"Yes, he'll come fast enough."
"If he isn't too mad at you," put in Daisy.
"Oh, he won't be mad," returned Patty; "he'll be terribly cut up at first, to think I tricked him so, but he'll get over it. And I warn you, Adele, if he comes here he'll play some fearful joke on us to get even."
"I don't mind," said Adele, "I like a joke once in awhile as well as anybody else. Now if he comes Thursday, Patty, will he stay over Saturday? That's May-day, you know, and I'd like to have him here for the celebration."
"He'll be here if you ask him; even if he has to go back to the city Friday and come up again for Saturday. Phil and Roger come Saturday, you know."
Van Reypen had gone back to town for a few days, and Hal Ferris was also away on business, which was one reason why the girls had plunged so interestedly into their merry scheme.
Thursday afternoon they started for Maple Bank in time to be at the post-office before four o'clock, and witness the arrival of Mr. Cameron.
Patty looked her dainty best, in a white linen, with a broad-brimmed hat wreathed with pink roses. Her pink parasol was flounced with chiffon and adorned with a bunch of pink roses, and two rose blooms were tucked in her belt.
"Rather summery garb, for the last of April," said Patty, gazing at herself in Adele's long mirror; "but I said I'd wear white before I thought. However, it's a lovely day, and with my motor coat I'll be warm enough going over."
They started off in high spirits, and reached the post-office at quarter before four. Kit was already there, walking calmly up and down the maple-shaded village street, and apparently waiting with properly concealed impatience.
In accordance with directions, the chauffeur drove right past the post-office and around a corner, where the three conspirators might indulge in a burst of laughter.
"I shan't appear until a few minutes after four," said Patty; "it isn't feminine to keep an appointment on time."
So they went up and down some other streets until just the right time, and then Patty got out of the car, as she intended to walk to the tryst.
The car, with Adele and Daisy, whizzed away and took up a position exactly opposite the post-office, stopping there to watch the show.
Of course Cameron paid no attention to this car, and continued to patrol the sidewalk with slow, even steps.
At last, as he walked along, he saw a girl in white coming toward him. Her pink parasol completely concealed her face, but Cameron knew it was his "Belle."
He walked on slowly, and Patty did too, until they met and both stopped. Gently he raised the intruding parasol and turned it to one side.
But even then, he could not see Patty's face, for she had arranged her broad-brimmed hat to droop over it, and she hung her head as if in extreme shyness. But she put out her hand and Cameron clasped it in his own.
"Belle," he murmured, "MY Belle! Look at me, please!"
Suddenly Patty lifted her head, and smiled into Kit Cameron's face.
He took a step backward, and staggered almost as if he would fall.
"Patty Fairfield!" he exclaimed, "what does this mean? Why are you here? I expected—oh, I beg your pardon—I—I'm aw-awfully glad to see you."
Adele and Daisy, watching them, were convulsed at Cameron's baffled surprise. They could almost hear what he said. They could see how he tried to pull himself together, and they could see Patty speechless with laughter, as she enjoyed the joke on Kit.
"What are YOU doing in Maple Bank?" she said, as soon as she could speak for laughing.
Kit looked at her gravely. "I came expressly to meet a girl in a white frock and pink roses. I don't see any other around, so—it might as well be you!"
"You needn't try to turn it off so carelessly," said Patty. "Own up that you're caught! What was your girl's name?"
"Belle—My Belle—" And Cameron rolled his eyes in such soulful manner, that Patty went off in another paroxysm.
"Oh, you Joke King, you! Nobody can trick you, can they? Do you own up?"
"Own up what? that I'd rather see you than any other belle? Certainly, I'll own that. But my time is up. You know we were only to gaze once into each other's eyes and then part forever!" And Kit gazed into her eyes as if it were indeed the last time.
"That'll do," said Patty, laughing again. "The farce is over. Now come and be real. Your own beautiful real self. Come and meet my friends."
"Who?" said Kit, as he accompanied Patty across the street.
"Here he is," sang out Patty, as they reached the car. "Mrs. Kenerley,—Miss Dow,—may I present Mr. Cameron, the celebrated violin virtuoso."
Adele greeted him warmly, and Daisy smiled on him, and Cameron's own delightful manner soon made them all friends.
"Jump in and go home with us, Mr. Cameron," said Adele, turning down a side seat in the car.
"But my stay in Maple Bank is limited," said Kit. "I'm due to take the next train back to New York."
"Come back with us to tea, anyway," said Adele.
"You can stay to dinner, too," said Patty, "and take a late train down from Fern Falls."
"But you see, though I dressed with particular care to meet a very charming young lady, I didn't expect to dine with her."
"Oh, no matter," said Adele; "we won't be formal to-night. But if you will, Mr. Cameron, we'd like to have you come back on Saturday for our May-day celebration."
"Will I!" said Kit; "you're awfully good to ask me, Mrs. Kenerley, after you've discovered what a wicked young man I am, thus to follow up invitations from strange ladies. But you see the photograph that came to me was so charming that the temptation was irresistible."
"If you'd known it was only me, you wouldn't have come, would you?" asked Patty.
Kit regarded her solemnly. Then he waved his hand, as if dismissing a question of no moment. "It doesn't matter," he said, "all young ladies in pink and white look alike to me."
"Then I'm glad I'm not in pink and white," said Daisy, who was looking very pretty in a blue linen frock, with wide black ribbons.
"So am I," and Kit smiled at her approvingly. "You look so different, it's a pleasure to observe you."
Cameron had a charming way of talking nonsense, and before they reached home both Daisy and Adele had taken a decided liking to the gay young man.
They had tea on the glass-paned veranda, and it was not until they were all comfortably seated, with their teacups in hand, that Cameron said, casually: "Oh, by the way, Patty, I have a note for you from Mrs. Fairfield, and a parcel."
He took from his pocket a letter and a little box.
"Oh, thank you," said Patty, taking them "May I?" she added, as she opened the note.
As Patty read, her face grew longer and her eyes grew bigger. As she finished, she looked at Cameron, who was gazing at her with his eyes full of laughter.
"You Kit!" she exclaimed; "oh, you Kit Cameron! Can nobody EVER get ahead of you? Girls, listen to this! It's a note from Nan, and she says: 'Dear Patty: Mr. Cameron says he's going to see you to-morrow. Has Adele invited him to Fern Falls? How nice for you all. He won't tell me how she happened to do so, but I suppose it was through you. I'm sending you by him your pearl pin, which you forgot. Oceans of love, from Nan.' Now, how in the name of common sense, did you happen to tell Nan that you were coming to see me?"
"Why, I was there last night, and I knew I was coming up here to-day; so I told her, and she asked me to bring your pin. And I said I would. That's all."
"But how did you know you were coming here?" persisted Patty.
"I didn't know I was coming here, and I didn't tell Mrs. Fairfield I was. I only told her I should see you. I can't help what she assumed,—and I have delivered the pin in safety."
"But how did you know you were going to see me?"
"My dear child, do you suppose for one minute that I fell for that Belle Harcourt business? Didn't you know that I would know that that very first letter was written by your fairy fingers?"
"Why, Mr. Cameron!" exclaimed Adele, "weren't you really fooled?"
"You WERE!" exclaimed Daisy. "You were at first, anyway."
"Not for a minute, Miss Dow," and Kit smiled lazily at her. "I'm not over-modest about my wonderful musical genius, but somehow I couldn't believe that a stranger appreciated me so highly. I just COULDN'T believe it, and something told me that it wasn't quite all it sounded. Then, says I to myself, if it isn't a real Belle Harcourt it's most probably Patty Fairfield. I had no idea you were away, but I telephoned the house, and some of your menials told me you were at Fern Falls. I had never heard of Fern Falls, but it was me for the atlas, and after much study, I unearthed Fern Falls and found it to be very decidedly adjacent to Maple Bank. So I put away my atlas, got down my arithmetic, and by its artful aid I managed to put two and two together. If I had found any one else but Patty Fairfield under that pink parasol, I should have been the most surprised man under the Stars and Stripes!"
"I think you're perfectly horrid!" cried Patty; "just per-fect-ly hor-rid!"
"You don't really, you know," and Kit smiled at her, calmly, "you're just as ready to admit yourself tricked, as I was."
Patty went off into a peal of laughter at the thought of how she had insisted that Kit should own up to being tricked, when they met; but she felt a little chagrined that her joke had fallen through.
"I'm glad of it," declared Adele, "for I may as well confess, Mr. Cameron, it had prejudiced me against you to think you would write those letters to a stranger."
"Oh, I wouldn't, Mrs. Kenerley," said Kit, with exaggerated earnestness. "Honest and truly, I wouldn't! I NEVER write letters to strangers, unless I'm SURE the strangers are Patty Fairfield. And I'm sure I shouldn't dare to write a letter to the young lady of the photograph that came to me. She looked like an angel in the last stages of nervous prostration."
"That's exactly what she did look like," said Adele, laughing. "I must tell Hester that! She's a school-girl cousin of mine, Mr. Cameron, and if she were here, she'd enjoy this two-story joke as well as any of us."
Cameron stayed to dinner, as he said, to make his peace with Mr. Kenerley when he came home, but really because he wanted to remain with the pleasant house party.
Hal Ferris came home at dinner time, too, and was greatly diverted by the whole story of the Belle Harcourt joke.
After dinner, it was warm enough to sit out on the veranda till time for Kit to go to the train.
At last the chauffeur brought the little runabout to the door, and Kit took leave of the merry group.
"Be sure to come back on Saturday morning," said Adele, as she shook hands with him.
"Trust me for that, Mrs. Kenerley. I'm so delighted with the invitation, I'm afraid I'll get here too soon."
"Come up on the noon train. The May party's at four o'clock. And now you must fly or you'll lose your train."
"Parting is SUCH sweet sorrow," said Kit, as he took Patty's hand, to say good-bye to her last.
Patty followed him down the steps of the veranda, and he was about to step into the car, when he said, "Come on down to the station with me."
"I will," said Patty, impulsively, and as there was no time to discuss the matter, she sprang into the car. Kit jumped in after her, and slammed the door and they were off.
"We've eloped," Cameron called back, as they whizzed away.
"All right," Adele called after them; "send Patty back by the chauffeur. There are extra wraps under the seat."
"What a duck you are to come!" said Kit, as they swung out through the gate.
"I didn't mean to; but I jumped in before I thought."
"Always jump in before you think,—that is, if I'm around. If there's any danger of drowning, I'll pull you out."
"Oh, I can swim. Kit, I don't see how you knew I wrote that letter."
"Patty, it was plain as day on the face of it. Why, it sounded just like you from start to finish. Of course, if you had been in New York, I should have tried to suspect somebody else, but when I found you were staying only about six miles from Maple Bank, I knew it was you."
"Never mind, some day I'll play a joke on you."
"Thought you didn't approve of them."
"I don't, for other people. But you're so fond of them I feel as if I ought to do all I can for you."
"All right, joke away, little girl. I don't mind. I say, Poppycheek, what's this May-day business? An old-fashioned picnic?"
"Not exactly. It's a new-fashioned picnic. But they crown a May-queen, and all that sort of foolishness." "And who is to be queen?"
"Belle Harcourt."
"MY Belle! Oh, I'm glad of that. And so Princess Poppycheek is going to be made a queen! Well, so long as you're my Belle, you may be anybody's queen you like."
"I like an awful lot of people."
"Mostly men."
"No, sir! The men mostly like me. I like mostly girls. Don't you thinkDaisy Dow's charming and pretty?"
"Yes, she is a very pretty girl. You're fond of her?"
"I am now. I didn't like her at first, but I think it was because I didn't understand her. But now we're awfully good chums."
"And so you don't like the men?"
"Nonsense! Of course I do. I adore them. But not as much as I do my girl friends. And sometimes I think I like my married friends best of all. Aren't the Kenerleys just dear?"
"Then you'd like me better if I were married?"
"Yes, indeed. Will you get married, to please me?"
"Oh, anything to oblige. Will you pick out the lady?"
"Why, yes, if you want me to. There's Daisy Dow."
"Yes, there's Daisy Dow. But here's Patty Fairfield. I'd ever so much rather marry her! How about it, Poppycheek?"
"Nonsense, Kit, don't be silly."
"It isn't silly. You said you wanted me to be married and I'm awfully anxious to please you."
"Oh, do you want to marry me just to please me?"
"Well, I'm interested in the scheme on my own account, too."
"Well, don't bother me about it, now. I hate to answer questions in a speeding motor-car."
"Shall I tell him to slow down?" And Kit leaned forward toward the chauffeur.
"Mercy, no! you'll hardly catch your train now. A little faster,Jacques."
"Yes, Miss," and the chauffeur threw on a little more speed.
"Poppycheek, you rascal, I intended to miss that train."
"Well, you don't do it! see? We've enough to do to-morrow, without you bothering around. You can come up Saturday, but to-morrow we're going to be awfully busy."
"Van Reypen coming?"
"Of course. A party isn't a party without Phil."
"Huh! I'm not afraid of him. I can cut Van Reypen out any day in the week!"
"Not Saturdays. That's his great day." And Patty laughed tantalisingly.
"Just you wait and see! I'm not afraid! Bye-bye, Poppycheek."
They had reached the station just as the train was drawing out. Kit sprang from the car, slammed the door after him, and striding across the platform, swung on to the moving steps. He waved his hand at Patty and was gone.
"Home, Jacques," she said.
May-Day, contrary to its custom, was a perfectly beautiful, balmy, sunshiny day.
Adele drew a long sigh of relief when she opened her eyes to this fact, for as the hostess of a large and elaborate garden party she had no care so great as the question of weather. And as all outdoors was a mass of warm sunshine, she felt sure of the success of her fete.
After luncheon she ordained that Patty should go to her room for a nap, as she had worked hard all the morning, and must not look fagged at her coronation.
"Make Daisy go too, then," said Patty, pouting, as she started upstairs.
"No, Daisy can do as she likes. She isn't tired and you are."
"But then Daisy will be here when the boys come, and I won't."
"You insatiable little coquette! You go right straight to your room and go to bed! You hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am, but I can't sleep. I'm too 'cited!"
"Well, you can rest. Get yourself into a kimono,—and I'll come up in a minute and tuck you up."
Adele went up in a few moments and found Patty leaning far out of her window.
"What ARE you doing, child? Don't lean out so far; you'll fall!"
Patty proceeded to draw herself back into the room. "Of course I won't fall, Adele! I was only trying to breathe all this whole May-day into my lungs at once. It's so beautiful."
"It is, I know; but, Patty, darling, you MUST behave yourself. Lie down and take a little sleepy-by till three o'clock. Then you can get dressed for the party."
"'I will be good, dear mother, I heard a sweet child say,'" trilledPatty, as she took down her hair and put on a kimono.
Then Adele tucked her up on the couch, in a nest of pillows and under a soft down quilt.
"Of course I trust you," she said, as she patted her shoulder, "oh, OF COURSE I trust you! but all the same, my lady, I'm going to lock you in!"
"What!" cried Patty.
But even as she spoke, Adele had scurried across the room, drawn out the key, and was already locking the door from the other side.
"Well!" thought Patty, "that's a high-handed performance! I don't really care, though. Now that I'm here, so comfy, I realise that I am tired." And in about two minutes Patty was sound asleep.
It was nearly an hour before she opened her eyes, and then with a little yawn she lazily wondered if it were time to get up. She glanced at the clock on her dressing-table, and as it was only half-past two, she felt sure that Adele would not come to her release until three o'clock. She lay there, her eyes wandering idly about the room, when she saw a startling sight. The floor, near her couch, was fairly strewn with sprays of apple blossoms. At first she thought she must be dreaming, and rubbed her eyes to be sure she was awake. Putting her hand down outside the silken coverlet, she touched a spray of blossoms, and picking it up looked at it wonderingly. There could be no doubt. They were real apple blossoms, and they were really there! What could it mean?
"Of course," she said to herself, "either Adele or Daisy came in while I was asleep and brought me these flowers, and sprinkled them on the floor for fun. It must have been Daisy, for Adele is too busy. How much nicer Daisy is than she used to be. And maybe that's not fair. Probably she always was just as nice, only I wasn't nice to her. Or I didn't know how to take her. Oh, my gracious!"
The last words were spoken aloud, and in a very surprised voice, the reason for which was, that a lot of apple blossoms had come flying through the open window and landed on the floor beside her. "It must be Daisy," she thought, "Adele won't let her in here, and she's trying to get my attention this way!"
Patty scrambled off the couch, her long golden hair a tangled mass around her shoulders, and her blue silk negligee edged with swansdown draped about her.
She went to the window, which was a long French one, opening like doors onto a tiny balcony. She stepped out on the balcony and looked down.
[Illustration: "BILL!" she cried, "Little Billee!"]
And then, in her surprise, she almost fell over the railing, for down below on the lawn, with his smiling face looking up into hers, stood,—Bill Farnsworth.
Patty gave a squeal of delight. "BILL!" she cried, "Little Billee"
"Look out, Apple Blossom!" he called back, in his big, cheery voice, "don't fall out of that balcony, and break your blessed neck! But if you want to jump, I'll catch you," and he held out his arms.
"No! I don't want to jump! Oh, Little Billee, I didn't know you were coming! Did you throw in the apple blossoms?"
"No, no, oh, NO! A passing highwayman threw those in! Why, what made you thinkI'd do such a thing?"
"Only because you still have a few left in your pockets," said Patty, laughing, for, sure enough, Bill had ends of blossom sprays sticking out of all his pockets.
"You see I didn't know how many it would take to wake you up," he said.
"How did you know I was up here?"
"Daisy told me. Adele wouldn't tell me,—said you must sleep, or some such foolishness. Get into your togs and come down, won't you?"
For the first time Patty realised that her hair was hanging about her shoulders and her costume was, to say the least, informal, and with another little squeal, she sprang back into her room and closed the window doors.
Then she went and looked at herself in the mirror.
"Well, you don't look an absolute fright," she said, to the smiling reflection she saw there. "But to think of Bill being here! Little Billee! Bless his old heart!"
And then Patty flew at her toilet. Everything had been laid in readiness, and she began to draw on her white silk stockings and dainty slippers.
She was sitting before her mirror, doing her hair, when the key turned and Adele came in.
"For goodness' sake, Patty Fairfield! WHERE did all these flowers come from?"
"They came in at the window, ma'am, before I closed it," said Patty, demurely.
"Came in at the window! Nonsense, how could they do that?"
"Oh, the breeze was awful strong, and it just blew them in."
"Silly child! But I say, Patty, hurry up and get dressed!"
"I AM hurrying!" and Patty provokingly twisted up her curls with slow, deliberate motions.
"You're NOT! you're dawdling horribly! But you wouldn't, if you knew who was downstairs!"
"Who?"
"Oh, you're very indifferent, aren't you? Well, you wouldn't be so indifferent if you knew who's downstairs."
"Not, by any chance, Bill Farnsworth?"
"Yes! that's just exactly who it is! How did you ever guess? Are you glad?"
"Yes, of course I am," and Patty's pink cheeks dimpled as she smiled frankly at Adele. "I'm just crazy to see Bill again!"
"Look here, Patty," and Adele spoke somewhat seriously, "I want to say something to you,—and yet I hate to. But I feel as if I ought to."
"My stars! Adele, what IS the dreadful thing?"
Patty paused in her hairdressing and, with brush in one hand and mirror in the other, she stared at Adele.
"Why, you see, Patty, I know you do like Bill, and—I don't want you to like him too much."
"What DO you mean?"
"Oh, nothing. It even sounds silly to say it to you, as a warning. But, dear, I feel I MUST tell you. He's engaged."
"Oh, is he?" Patty tossed her head, and then went on arranging her hair, but the pink flush on her cheek deepened. "Are you sure?" she said, carelessly.
"Well, I'm not sure that he's engaged, really," and Adele wrinkled her pretty brow, as she looked at Patty; "but he told me last winter that all his life was bound up in Kitty, and he loved her with all his heart, or something like that."
"Kitty who?"
"I can't remember her other name, although he told me."
"How did Bill happen to tell you this, Adele?"
"He was here, and I was chaffing him about one of the Crosby girls, and then he told me that about Kitty. And somehow I thought you ought to know it."
"Oh, fiddlesticks, Adele, as if I cared! I can't understand why you should thinkIwould care if Mr. Farnsworth were engaged to forty-'leven girls. It's nothing to me."
"Of course I know it isn't, Patty; but I just wanted to tell you."
"All right, honey; I'm glad you did. Now go on downstairs, and I'll be down in a few minutes."
Adele ran away and Patty proceeded to don her royal robes.
The coronation gown was of white chiffon, having no decoration save tiny bunches and garlands of flowers. It was not made in the prevailing fashion, but copied from a quaint old picture and was very becoming to its wearer.
Her golden curls were loosely massed and a few flowers adorned them.
Patty sat a moment in front of her mirror, talking to herself, as she often did.
"Of course Little Billee is engaged," she said to herself; "he's too nice a man not to be. And I hope his Kitty is a lovely, sweet, charming girl. I don't think, as an engaged man, he had any business to throw flowers in at my window, but I suppose that was because we've always been good friends. I don't see how he could tear himself away from the charming Kitty long enough to come East, but he's always flying across the continent on his business trips."
Daisy came into Patty's room then, and the two girls went downstairs together.
The guests had gathered for the garden party, and were dotted over the lawns or grouped on the veranda.
"Thank goodness it's a warm day," said Patty, as they went down the stairs. "Sometimes on May-day we have to go around in fur coats."
At the foot of the staircase Bill Farnsworth waited to greet Patty.
He came forward with an eager smile and took her two hands in his.
"Little Apple Blossom!" he exclaimed; "Patty Pink-and-White!"
For the life of her, Patty could not be as cordial as she would have been if Adele had not told her what she did. But though she tried to speak a genuine welcome, she only succeeded in saying, "How do you do, Mr. Farnsworth?" in a cool little voice.
Big Bill looked at her in amazement.
"You gave me a better greeting than that from your window," he said, in laughing reproach. "I still have an apple blossom left. May I give it to you?" and Bill produced a small but perfect spray which he proceeded to pin on the shoulder of Patty's gown.
"My costume is complete," said Patty, with a smiling dissent; "it doesn't need any additional flower."
"It needs this one to make it perfect," said Farnsworth, calmly, and indeed the pretty blossom was no detriment to the effect.
"Oh, Phil, how gorgeous you look!" and Patty abruptly turned fromFarnsworth to admire Van Reypen's get-up.
"Me, too!" exclaimed Hal Ferris, stepping up to be admired. The men's decorations consisted of garlands draped across their shoulders and tied with huge bows of ribbon. On their heads they wore classic wreaths which Daisy and Hal had made, and which were really not unbecoming. The procession formed in the hall, and went out across the lawn to the May Queen's throne.
Hal Ferris and Van Reypen headed the line, Hal being the sceptre-bearer and Philip the crown-bearer.
Daisy followed these, carrying a silk banner which waved in the breeze, and she was followed by Baby May, carrying a basket of blossoms, which she scattered as she went along.
Patty came next, and surely a fairer May queen never went to her coronation. Patty's blonde beauty was well suited to the costume and floral decorations she wore, and she looked like a vision of Spring, incarnate, as she walked smilingly along. Behind her came Kit and Roger, who were Court Jesters. Their costumes were most elaborate, of the recognised style for jesters, and they carried baubles which provoked great merriment.
As Farnsworth had not been expected, there was no part for him on the program, but he calmly declared that he would be the band. He had brought a cornet, upon which he was a really fine performer, and he took up his place at the end of the line and played gay and merry music to which they marched.
The affair was exceedingly informal, and those in the procession chatted as they passed the guests who were mere lookers-on.
Baby May, indeed, left her place to run to her mother and give her a flower, and then dutifully returned to escort Patty.
The throne was under a bower made of evergreen boughs and trailing vines, interspersed with apple blossoms and other flowers.
As the procession neared the throne, Ferris, with his long gold sceptre, struck an attitude on one side, and Van Reypen, who carried the crown on a white satin cushion, took his place on the other side.
Daisy as Maid of Honour and Baby May as Flower Girl took their stand, and the two Court Jesters danced to their appointed places.
This left Patty alone, and, as there had been no rehearsal, she was a little uncertain what to do, when Farnsworth stepped forward and took her hand and gracefully led her to the throne, where he seated her in state. Then he made a profound bow and stepped away to one side.
Van Reypen came forward, and with a gay little impromptu speech, put a floral crown on Patty's head, and Ferris presented her with the long gilded sceptre.
Patty made a little speech of humorous greeting, and the coronation was declared over, and Patty was Queen of the May.
The guests came thronging around to talk to the pretty queen, and then they all went to the tea-tent. This gay and festive place was decorated with flowers and flags, and a delightful feast was served.
"Will you have an ice, Patty?" asked Farnsworth, "or something more substantial?"
"Here you are, Patty; I know what you want." and Kit Cameron came up with a cup of hot bouillon and a sandwich.
"Yes, indeed, Kit, I'm famishing. Thank you so much," and Patty ignoredFarnsworth's remark entirely, and beamed pleasantly on Kit.
Farnsworth looked at her curiously for a moment, and then walked away.
He sat down by Daisy Dow, and said abruptly:
"What's the matter with Patty, that she doesn't like me any more?"
"Nonsense, Bill; she does like you."
"No, she doesn't. She's cool as a cucumber. She used to like me, but she's changed all through. I s'pose she likes those other fellows better—and I don't blame her."
"They're both awfully gone on her," and Daisy looked at Cameron and Van Reypen hovering around Patty, who seemed to be sharing her favours equally between them.
"I don't belong here," said Farnsworth, gloomily. "I'm out of my element. I belong out West, riding over the plains and untrammelled by conventions."
"Don't be a goose, Bill," and Daisy looked at him kindly. "You've better manners than lots of these Eastern men, and you have a whole lot more innate kindliness."
"That's good of you, Daisy," and Bill flashed her a grateful look. "But I know the difference myself; I'm uncouth and awkward where those chaps are correct and elegant. I'm going back to Arizona and stay there."
"All because Patty Fairfield didn't welcome you with open arms!"
A flush rose to Big Bill's handsome face. "It is partly that, Daisy, but I can't blame her. There's no reason why that exquisite little piece of humanity should want to have anything to do with me,—a big bear of a man."
"Honestly, Bill, you ought not to belittle yourself like that. I'm ashamed of you. But I'll tell you one thing: Patty is sometimes a little perverse. She can't seem to help it. She's a perfect dear, but she is a coquette. If you ask me, I think the more glad she is to see you, the more likely she is to be cool to you."
"Nonsense, Daisy! what sort of talk is that! Why should she act that way?"
Bill's straightforward gaze of blank amazement made Daisy laugh, but she only said: "I can't tell you why she does such things, but she does all the same."
Just then Hal Ferris came up and monopolised Daisy's attention, and Farnsworth, imagining himself in the way, strolled off. He joined the laughing group that was gathered around Patty, but he stood moodily silent, listening while she chaffed the others.
"It's getting chilly," Patty said, at last, "and I think it's too late to stay outdoors any longer. May parties are all very well while the sun shines. But as queen, I issue a royal mandate that now we all go in the house and dance."
"And as First Goldstick-in-Waiting, I claim the first dance with the queen," and Philip Van Reypen tucked Patty's hand through his arm and led her away to the house.
"And I claim the Maid of Honour," and Kit Cameron led Daisy away.
"Hold on," cried Hal Ferris, "the Maid of Honour is my partner."
"Possession is nine points of the law," and Hal gaily retained Daisy's hand in his own, lest she should escape him.
But there were plenty of other gay and merry maidens of the court, and soon several couples were whirling up and down through the great hall.
Farnsworth stood apart, not joining in the dance, and presently Adele came up to him.
"Dance with me, Bill," she said, with the freedom of long acquaintance.
"Thank you," said Farnsworth, and in a moment they had joined the other couples. Bill was a perfect dancer, and when they stopped, Adele said: "Why don't you dance with Patty? She is a lovely dancer. I'd like to see you two dance together."
Still with a grave face, Bill crossed the room to where Patty was standing.
"Miss Fairfield," he said, politely, "our hostess has ordained that I dance this dance with you." He clicked his heels together, and made a low military bow.
"Indeed," said Patty, coolly, "but the Queen of May takes no one's orders, not even those of her beloved hostess."
"Then you refuse?" and Farnsworth looked Patty straight in the eyes.
"Of course I refuse," and she gave her little head a disdainful toss."This dance belongs to Mr. Van Reypen."
Philip was just passing, and as Patty laid her hand on his arm, he stopped.
"Certainly it does," he said, but it was easy to be seen that the dance was as much a surprise to him as it was a pleasure.
Farnsworth looked after the two, as they danced away. And then he turned on his heel and went in search of Adele.
The May party was over, but a few of the guests, besides those staying in the house, remained for dinner.
"Shall I change my frock, Adele, or keep on this toggery for dinner?" said Patty.
"Oh, keep that on. You may as well be Queen of May as long as you can."
So Patty kept on her pretty, picturesque costume, and when dinner time came she made up her mind to ask Adele to seat her next to Farnsworth. But as the company paired off to go to dinner Big Bill was nowhere visible.
"Where's Mr. Farnsworth?" asked Patty, casually, of Jim Kenerley.
"Oh, he's gone. We expected him to stay the week-end, but he said he was due at another country house party, farther on somewhere, and he couldn't even stay for dinner."
Patty was sorry she had acted so rude to Bill, and sorry that he had gone. "But," she said to herself, by way of extenuation, "I didn't want to dance with anybody who asked me to because his hostess commanded him! He never even said he wanted to dance with me himself, but only that Adele said he must. But I do think he was mean to go away without saying good-bye to me!"
However, it was not Patty's nature to let her mind dwell on a disappointment, and she promptly proceeded to forget all about Mr. Farnsworth, and to turn her mind to her present partner. This happened to be Kit Cameron, and as he was in his gayest mood she responded and their conversation was of the merriest sort.
After dinner, Kit persuaded Patty to walk on the veranda for a bit of exercise. There was a large swing-seat, upholstered in red, which he declared was just the place for a tete-a-tete.
"But it's too cold," objected Patty.
"I'll get you a wrap," and Kit flew into the house and procured a long cloak, in which he enveloped Patty, and they sat in the swing together.
"What became of the Colossal Cowboy?" said Kit; "I thought he was here for the weekend."
"I thought so, too," returned Patty, "but it seems he had another engagement."
"I'm glad of it. You're altogether too fond of him."
"Fond of him! What do you mean? I'm nothing of the sort. Why, I scarcely spoke to him."
"I know it. That's what gave you away."
"Don't be a silly! I haven't the slightest interest in Mr. WilliamFarnsworth, or his comings and goings."
"You'd rather have me here, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, EVER so much rather!" And Patty spoke with such intense enthusiasm that she was very evidently joking.
"But really, Patty, let's be in earnest just for a minute. Wouldn't you rather have me around than anybody?"
"Why, I don't know; I never thought about it."
"Think about it now, then. Honest, I mean it."
"Oh, don't mean things. It's too heavenly a night to talk seriously."
"Isn't it a wonderful night? Do you know a house party like this and moonlight on a veranda, like this, always goes to my head. I think week-ending is apt to go to one's head, anyway. But let it go. Let it go to your head, too."
"I don't think I'd better," and Patty spoke hesitatingly; "I might say something foolish."
"Oh, do, Patty! DO say something foolish! If you don't, I shall."
"Well, go on, then."
"May I, Patty? May I tell you that I've simply lost my heart to you,—you beautiful little May Queen!"
"And is that what you call foolish?" Patty pouted, adorably.
"Yes, it's foolish, because I know there's no hope for me. I know you don't care one least scrap of a speck for me! Now, do you?"
"If you're so positive yourself, why ask me?"
"Oh, I MIGHT be mistaken, you know. Oh, if I only MIGHT! Patty, DEAR little Patty, couldn't you be my princess? My own Princess Poppycheek."
"I've been your Belle," and Patty laughed merrily at the recollection.
"There you go, laughing at me! I knew you would. That shows you don't care anything for me. If you did, you wouldn't laugh at me!"
"Oh, yes, I would! the more I care for people the more I laugh at them,—always."
"You must be simply crazy over me then! If you don't stop laughing I won't swing you any more."
"Oh, yes, do, it's lovely to swing back and forth in the moonlight like this. The May party was pretty, wasn't it?"
"You're just trying to change the subject. But I won't have it changed. Let's go back to it. Patty, couldn't you stop laughing at me long enough to learn to care for me a little?"
"How can I tell? I don't know how long it would take to learn to care for you a little. And, anyway, I do care for you a little,—but only a very, very little."
"Yes, I know that. You don't fool me any. You wouldn't care if youNEVER saw me again."
"Why, Kit Cameron, I would SO! If I though I'd never see you again—I'd—I'd—I'd drown myself!"
"YES you WOULD! You little witch, how can you trifle with me like that, when my heart is just breaking for you?"
"Oh, come now, Kit, it isn't as bad as that! And let me tell you something. Do you know I think you are one of the very nicest friends I ever had, and I'm not going to have our friendship spoiled by any foolishness! So you might as well stop right where you are now. That is, if you're in earnest. If you're just talking foolishness on account of the moonlight—and all,—I don't mind. But I won't have you serious about it."
"All right, Poppycheek. I'm pretty serious, or I would be if you'd let me, but if you don't want it you shan't have it."
"Well, I don't. I don't want seriousness from anybody. And, anyway,Kit, I'd be afraid of seriousness from you."
"Why, Patty?"
"'Cause it would probably turn out to be a practical joke."
"Joke nothing! The regard I have for you, Miss Poppycheek Fairfield, is too everlasting real to have any joke about it!"
"And the friendship I have for you, Mr. Kit Cameron, is so nice and real, that I'm going to keep it up."
Patty knew from the undertones of Kit's voice that he was very much in earnest, and as she felt no interest in him beyond that of a good friend, she shrank from wounding his feelings by letting him go on further. And so she determinedly led the conversation further and further away from personal matters, and soon she gaily declared that it was getting too late for moonlight chat and she was going in the house.
Kit followed her in, and though he showed in no way the appearance of a rejected suitor, he was quieter than usual and less inclined to merriment. "He'll get over it," said Patty to herself, after she reached her room that night. "I s'pose all girls have to go through with these scenes, sooner or later. But I didn't mind Kit so much, because he was nice and sensible about it."
Then Daisy came in for a kimono confab, and perched herself on the edge of Patty's bed.
"What's the matter between you and Bill Farnsworth, Patty?" she asked without prelude of any sort.
"Nothing," said Patty, as she took the hairpins from a long shining strand of hair.
"There is, too. He asked me why you were so cool to him."
"He did! Well, I'm sure I don't know what he meant, for I wasn't cool to him,—or anything else. I treated him politely, as I would any casual friend."
"Politely! I saw you refuse to dance with him, myself. If you call THAT polite!"
"If you want to know, Daisy, that was because he didn't want to dance with me. He said he only asked me because Adele insisted upon it."
"Patty, it's none of my business, but I do think you might be nicer toBill, for I know he thinks an awful lot of you."
"Why, Daisy Dow! why should he think a lot of me when he's as good as engaged to another girl?"
"Engaged! Bill Farnsworth engaged! nothing of the sort. I know better."
"But he is. Adele told me so. Or, if he isn't engaged, he's very much in love with a girl named Kitty. Do you know her?"
"Kitty who? Where is she?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. But he told Adele his whole heart and life were bound up in this Kitty Somebody. So I'm sure I don't see any reason why I should be running after him."
"I can't imagine you running after anybody, Patty. You don't need to, for the boys all run after you. But it's very queer I never heard of this Kitty. I've known Bill for years. Let me see; there was Kate Morton,—but I never thought Bill cared especially for her. And anyway, I can't imagine calling HER Kitty! She's as tall and straight as an Indian!"
"Well, Bill calls her Kitty; Adele said so."
"Oh, is it Kate Morton, then? Did Adele say that?"
"No, Adele said she couldn't remember the girl's last name. And I don't care if it's Kate Morton or Kathleen Mavourneen! It's nothing to me what kind of a girl Bill Farnsworth likes."
"Of course it isn't. I know you never liked Bill."
"I did SO! I DO like him, but just the same as I like all the other boys."
"Then what makes you turn pink every time Bill's name is mentioned, and never when you speak of anybody else?"
"I don't! And if I did, it wouldn't mean anything. I'm not specially interested in anybody, Daisy, but if I were, I wouldn't sit up and blush about it. You like Bill an awful lot, yourself."
"I do like him," said Daisy, frankly; "and I always have. He's a splendid man, Patty, one of the biggest, best natures I know. Why, at school we used to call him Giant Greatheart,—he was so thoroughly noble and kind to everybody."
"Well, I'm sick of hearing his praises sung, so you'll please change the subject."
Daisy was quite willing to do this, for she had no wish to annoy Patty, and the girls chatted of other matters until Adele came along and sent them both to bed.
The next day was Sunday, and Patty didn't come downstairs until time for the midday dinner.
"I think you might have come down earlier," said Van Reypen, reproachfully, as Patty came smilingly down the staircase. "I wanted you to go for a walk this morning; it's simply great out in the sunshine."
"I'll go after dinner," said Patty; "isn't it funny why people have dinner at one o'clock, just because it's Sunday?"
"I'm glad of it. It'll give us the whole afternoon for our walk."
"Good gracious! if I walk the whole afternoon you'll have to bring me home in a wheelbarrow!"
"We won't walk far enough for that. If you get tired, we'll sit on a mossy mound in a bosky dell, or some such romantic spot."
After dinner, Philip held Patty to her promise of going for a walk. She didn't care about it especially, really preferring to stay with the gay group gathered on the veranda, but Philip urged it, and Patty allowed herself to be persuaded.
The country all around Fern Falls was beautiful, and a favourite walk was down to the Falls themselves, which were a series of small cascades tumbling down a rocky ravine.
Philip turned their steps this way, and they sauntered along the winding footpath that followed down the side of the falls.
"It is lovely here," said Patty, as she sat down on a rock for a short rest. "But I wouldn't want to live in the country all the year around, would you, Philip?"
"Not if you didn't like it, dear. Suppose we have two homes, one in the city and one in the country?"
"Homes for lunatics, do you mean?" and Patty favoured the young man with a wide-eyed gaze of inquiry.
"You know very well what I mean," and Philip returned her gaze with one of calm regard. "You know why I brought you out here this afternoon, and you know exactly what I'm going to say to you. Don't you?"
"Not EXACTLY," and Patty drew a roguish frown; "they all word it differently, you know."
"It is a matter of utter indifference to me how the others word it," and Philip leaned up comfortably against a rock as he looked at Patty. "The only thing that engrosses my mind, is whether I myself can word it persuasively enough to make you say yes. Do you think I can?"
"You never can tell till you try," said Patty, in a flippant tone.
"Then I'll try. But, Patty, dearest, you know it all; you know how I love you, you know how long I have loved you. Aren't you ever going to give me the least little encouragement?"
"How can I, Phil, when I don't feel encouraging a bit?"
"But you will, dear, won't you? You remember last winter when we went on that sleighride after the butter and eggs? Why, Patty, you ALMOST said yes, then."
"Why, Philip Van Reypen! I didn't do anything of the sort! I had no idea of saying yes, then,—I haven't now,—and I'm not sure that I ever shall have!"
"I'll wait, Patty," and Van Reypen spoke cheerfully. "I'll wait, Little Girl, because I think a love like mine is bound to win at last. And I know you're too young yet to make up your mind. But, Patty, there isn't anybody else, is there?"
"Anybody else what?"
"Anybody else who likes you as much as I do. Is there?"
"Now, Phil, how could I tell that? When people say they love you heaps and heaps, you never know quite how much to believe, or quite how much is just the influence of the moonlight."
"Well, there's no moonlight here now. So when I tell you how much I love you, it's all true. You believe that, don't you, Little Girl?"
"Yes, I believe it. But, Philip, I wish you wouldn't talk about it to-day. I'm tired of—"
"Of having men tell you how much they love you? Poor little Patty! I'm afraid you'll have to put up with that all your life."
"Oh, horrible!" and Patty made a wry face. "I suppose some girls like it, but I don't."
"I'll tell you a way to avoid it, Patty. Be engaged to me, now,—even if you won't marry me right away, and then, you see, other men can't propose to you."
"Do you mean be engaged to you, Phil, without intending EVER to marry you!"
"Well, don't consider the second question at present. Just be engaged to me, and then we'll see about it."
"No, I don't think that would be fair. You make it seem as if being engaged to a man doesn't mean anything."
"Patty! dearest! DON'T talk like that! It would mean all the world to me. And I'm sure I could make you love me enough to want to marry me, after awhile. If you knew how much I loved you, I'm sure you'd agree that you couldn't resist that love for long."
Van Reypen looked very handsome and very earnest as he gazed into Patty's eyes. And Patty looked very sweet and dear as she gazed back at him with a troubled expression on her lovely face.
Then with a sudden, impulsive gesture she put out both her hands andPhilip took them in his own.
"Don't make me decide now, Phil," she said, and she looked at him with a pathetic smile. "I don't know what I want. I know I DON'T want to marry you,—or anybody else,—for a long time. And I don't think I want to be engaged to anybody just yet, either."
"Of course you don't, you dear little girl," and Van Reypen's tone was hearty and genuinely helpful. "You've only just begun to have your little fling, and enjoy yourself in your own sweet, butterfly way. And I'm not going to tease you or cause you one moment's worry. But, oh, Patty, darling, if ever you have a moment when you want to think about these things, think about me, won't you, dear? and remember that my whole heart is yours and my whole life is devoted to you. You don't understand now, what the whole love of a man means, but some day you will, and then, if your heart can turn to me, let it do so, won't you,—little sweetheart?"
Patty was thrilled, not only by Philip's words, but by the deep and sincere love shining in his eyes, and which she could not mistake.
"You are very dear to me, Philip," she said, with absolute sincerity; "and I do want you to know how much I appreciate what you have said,—and how grateful I am—"
"Hush, Patty," and Philip smiled gently at her; "I don't want that. I don't want your appreciation nor your gratitude for what I feel for you. When you are ready to give me your love, in return for the love I offer you, I want it more than I can tell you. But until then, I want your friendship, the same good comradeship we have always had, but not any gratitude, or foolishness of that sort. Do you understand?"
"I do understand, Phil, and I think you're splendid! I want to keep on being your friend,—but I don't want you to think—-"
"No, dear; I promise not to think that you are giving me undue encouragement,—for that is what you're trying to say. And you mustn't let my hopes or desires trouble you. Always treat me just exactly as you feel toward me, with gay comradeship, with true friendliness, or whatever is in your heart. But always remember that I am still loving you and waiting and hoping."
Philip gave Patty one long look deep into her eyes, and then, with an entire change of manner, he said lightly, "Now, my lady fair, if you are rested, suppose we walk back to the house?"
"I am rested," and Patty jumped up, "so you won't have to do what I feared,—take me home in a wheelbarrow."
Van Reypen looked at her quizzically.
"Do you remember," he said, "the classic poem from which that quotation is taken?"
"It's from Mother Goose, isn't it?"
"Yes; but if you recollect, it was a bachelor gentleman who went toLondon. And when he returned he brought a WIFE home in a wheelbarrow.I'm not having quite THAT experience."
"No," said Patty, demurely, "but you haven't any wheelbarrow."