"Yes, please. And, I—I want to thank you for setting me straight about the Blaneys."
"Don't include Alla. I doubt if she'd do a deceptive thing. But all the same, Patty, she's no friend for you. You don't care for her, do you?"
"No; I did at first, she interested me——"
"I know; 'interested you strangely,' as the novelists say."
"Yes, just that. She is so queer and unusual and——"
"Well, not to put too fine a point upon it, freakish."
"I suppose so. But I liked it all, at first. I don't mind owning up I was getting a little tired of it. It didn't——"
"It didn't make good, did it? But you're through with it now. How will you break it all off, without unpleasantness—for you?"
"Oh, I can manage that by my tactful nature. I mean, with Alla. I shan't bother to be specially tactful with Sam. Need I be?"
"No. When a man has practised a fraud like that on you, he deserves no consideration whatever."
"And tell me, Little Billee, tell me quickly, for I must really be going, how did you walk in there and kidnap me so easily?"
"I had a sort of notion that you ought to be looked after. Channing was here, laughing over some of the details of the Blaney party that he had heard of, and when he told about your dance,—well, Patty, I'll be honest with you. I wanted to see that dance. You know how I love your dancing. Also, I wanted to know just what the dance was,—for I know Grantham."
"The dance was all right, Billee?"
"Yes, perfectly all right, only I'd rather you'd worn sandals. But it was a wonderful dance,—exquisite, poetic, all that is beautiful. I went in, reminded Sam of our old acquaintance, and he welcomed me decently, if not over-cordially. I saw one or two numbers on the program before yours, and I concluded I didn't want you mixed up with that bunch. They're right enough, but their unconventionality and ultra Bohemianism are not the element in which Patty Fairfield belongs. Then came your dance. Unspeakably lovely, all that it ought to be, but not for that herd of idiots! So, I made up my mind I'd persuade you to go home with me,—pretty much instanter! I told Blaney I intended to take you. He was mad all through, and denied my right to ask you to leave his party. But,—well, I reminded him of a few of our past memories—memories fraught with sadness!—to put it poetically,—and he made no further objections to my carrying out my own sweet will——"
"And so you carried out——"
"My own sweet girl! Exactly! Patty, you little rogue, you musn't bewitch me like that! If you do, I'll pick you up again, and carry you off—oh, here comes Mrs. Morrison. Haveyoucome to carry Patty off?"
"Yes," and Mrs. Morrison looked regretful. "I'm sorry, Patty, dear, but really——"
"It's time! Yes, I know it, and I'm quite ready to go. Good night,Little Billee."
"Good night, Patty. Get a good rest, for you really need it."
"You see, Nan, it isn't fair. I don't feel honest to keep Phil in uncertainty, when I don't think—no, I reallydon'tthink I'm going to marry him."
"But good gracious, Patty, you ought to know by this time! Either you care for him or you don't."
"Nan, I've only learned of late that when people say 'care for' they mean love. I think it's a silly phrase,—why, I care for lots of things——"
"There are a good many things you've only learned of late, Patty, and a good many more you've still to learn. But I really think you ought to make up your mind about Phil Van Reypen."
"Well, amn't I making it up as fast as I can? I'm going right at it now, in dead earnest, and you've got to help me."
Nan smiled at the anxious face that looked into her own.
They were in Patty's boudoir, the morning after the Christmas party. A breakfast tray, with contents only partly demolished, was pushed away, as the importance of the discussion made food seem an intrusive factor.
Patty's cap was askew on her hastily knotted-up curls, and she gathered about her the voluminous folds of a billowy, blue silk affair, that was her latest acquisition in the way of négligées.
"My child," said Nan, "you have given yourself away. If you want any help in making up your mind, you are not in love with that young man. You don't 'care for' him, in the technical sense of the term."
"But he's very nice, Nancy. He's a big-hearted, fine-minded——"
"Upstanding, clean-cut American gentleman. Let me help you out. Yes, Patty, he's all those things and more. But if you don't love him you mustn't marry him. You're old enough to know your own mind."
"I'm not such an ancient!"
"Don't be silly! You're nearly twenty-one——"
"Just twenty and a half."
"Well, all right, twenty and a half. But that's not like seventeen.You're young for your years, I think. But anyway, you've seen enoughof men to know if Phil Van Reypen is 'Lord of your life,—yourKing,—your Star!' Is he?"
"Not much he isn't! Why, Nan, he's an awfully nice chap, but no'Philip, My King!' There, you see I can quote poetry as well as you.Oh, Nan, Bill Farnsworth knows an awful lot about poetry! Would youthink he would?"
"Now, Patty, keep to the subject in hand. Fred and I both think you ought to be engaged to Philip, or else tell him you won't be. It isn't fair to him, to act as you do."
"I know it, you angel stepmother, and so, I'm going to decide, right now,—with much quickness. Heigho! Which shall it be? Patty Van Reypen,—or stay an old maid all my life."
"Oh, I dare say there are others. You may possibly have another chance at matrimony."
"Nan," and Patty turned suddenly grave, "I don't like that—a chance at matrimony. I mean, if one gets engaged, it ought to be to a man she loves so much that she doesn't think of it as a 'chance.' It ought to be the one and only."
"Why, that's just what I'm trying to say, dear. Now, is Phil the one and only?"
"No, ma'am. Not by no manner of means, he isn't. Nixie, he is not!"
"That mass of negatives sounds rather conclusive to me. So, with that as a premise, I'm going to advise you, even urge you to tell him so with unmistakable definiteness."
"But, Nan, it makes him feel so bad."
"That is the trouble, Patty. Every true woman hates to disappoint the man who truly loves her. And Phil adores you. His love is deep and sincere. He would make you very happy—if you loved him. If not, it would only mean unhappiness for you both. And, so, it is really kinder to him to tell him so frankly and let him give up any false hopes."
"I know it, and I'm going to do it. But I don't know just how. You see, Nan, he is so persistent,—and in such a nice, kind way. When I tell him that, he'll only say that he won't consider it final, and we'll wait and see. Then the argument begins all over again."
"And so, I tell you, at the risk of repeating myself, that you must make up your own mind positively first; then, if an adverse decision, you must tell him, so positively that he can't misunderstand.Then, if he refuses to give up all hope, it isn't your fault."
"That's good, sound talk, Nan, and I will try to do just as you say. But—well, here's the thing in a nutshell. I like Phil so much that I hate to tell him I can't love him."
"Then get that out of the nutshell, and put this in. If you like him so much, it's your duty to tell him you can't love him. Heavens, Patty, have you no idea of other people's rights?"
"I don't believe I have, Nan. I'm a spoiled child, I admit it. You and Dad spoil me, and all my friends do, too. I'm made to believe that the sun rises and sets in silly little Patty Fairfield, and it has made me a vain, conceited, selfish, insufferablePig! That's what it has done!"
"Oh, Patty, you little idiot! Nothing of the sort. You're,—since you doubtless meant to be contradicted,—you're a dear thing, and there isn't a selfish bone in your body. If people adore you, it's because of your sunny, sweet nature, and your absolute thoughtfulness and kindness to others. Don't be foolishthatway. But regarding this matter of Philip, I know you see it as I do. And it's really your kind heart and your dislike of hurting anybody's feelings that makes you hate so to tell him what you must tell him."
"Yes, Nan, I must tell him. I know it myself. I know that I like him lots, and I'd be awfully sorry not to be friends with him, but I don't want to marry him."
"Do you want to marry anybody else?"
"I hardly know how to answer that. I suppose every girl would rather be married than not, if it's to just the right man. But one thing is certain, Philip isn't the right man."
Patty sighed, and the far-away look in her eyes made Nan wonder if there was a "right man" whose image was enshrined in the girl's heart. But she only said, "Then, dear, tell him so."
"I will," said Patty, but she looked very serious and troubled over it.
However, she did tell him so. When Van Reypen called that evening Patty answered his plea with a decisive No. She was very gentle and kindly, but she gave him no ray of hope, no suggestion of a change of decision.
Philip took it gravely, but was unwilling to admit it was final. He knew from Patty's demeanour that she meant it to be, but he hoped he could yet win her by further devotion and patience. She told him this was impossible, but he only smiled and expressed his determination to try it.
"I take your word for it, dear," he said. "I know you mean just what you say, that you don't love me enough to give yourself to me. And I won't urge you, or tease you. Just let me remain your friend, and let me see you, occasionally. I promise not to intrude when I'm not wanted. And though I expect nothing, there's no law against hoping, you know."
Phil's winsome smile was so cheery and yet so wistful, that Patty's heart was touched anew. But she said, "It must be just friends, Phil. I like you lots, you know that, but I can't be always fearful that——"
"That I'll break loose and become unmanageable! You needn't, dear. I promise to abide by your decision, unless I can make you want to change it. Now, forget it all, for the present, and let's be friends and chums and comrades and all those nice things, that don't bother curly-headed little girls and make them look troubled and sad. But, I want to thank you and bless you, dear, for your sweet kindliness to me. Why, you might have sent me flying about my business with nothing more than a curt No. I'm glad you didn't do that!"
"I don't treat my friends like that," and Patty smiled, relieved that the ordeal was practically over. "Now, will you help us with the House Sale?"
"In aminute! But tell me what house is to be sold?"
"Oh, no, we don't sell any house. It's really a sort of Bazaar, but instead of holding it in a hall or any big place, we have it in a house,—this house, in fact."
"Here?"
"Yes, next week. It's a horrid nuisance,—the getting ready and clearing up afterward, I mean,—but we want to make money for the library of our working girls' club."
"Let me give you the money you'd make, and then don't have the Bazaar thing."
"You're awfully good, Phil, and I'd like to do that. But it wouldn't work. The Club would just take your contribution and then go calmly on and have a Bazaar or something beside."
"But it would letyouout. You needn't have it here."
"That would be selfish. I'm too selfish as it is. No, I'll have the sale here. Of course, the committee will help, and all that, but well, you know what committees are."
"Yes, they let the chairman do everything and then they criticise. AndI'll bet you're chairman, aren't you?"
"Yes," Patty laughed. "How you do catch on! But I'm not shifting responsibility. Indeed, I'd rather do it all, if I could do it my own way. But they all tell me what to do, and then whatever's wrong is my fault."
"I know. All committees are like that. Well, just do the best you can and let me help all I can. Is there much I can do?"
"Why, yes, I think so. At least there will be on the day of the Sale.Come round then and we'll set you to work."
"Glad to. What is to be sold? Can't I buy some things?"
"Yes, indeed. It's a novel sale, in this way: There are wares all over the house. In the library we'll sell books, and in the dining-room, food, and, also, china and glass and fancy linens."
"And in the drawing-room here?"
"Oh, here we'll have the bric-à-brac and pictures and small pieces of furniture,—all these things have been donated, you know. And up in the bedrooms we're to have things to wear, and lace pillows and dresser scarfs and all such things; oh, and hats! And in my boudoir there'll be wonderful kimonos and breakfast caps, and work-baskets and bags and really lovely things."
"I believe you'll enjoy it all. You're enthusiastic already. Let me give you some things for it. Wouldn't you like a few curios and bronze bits from Aunty Van's collections?"
"Oh, we would! But you oughtn't to spare them."
"I've such quantities, a few will never be missed. Come over and pick them out yourself. Bring Elise or whoever is on the committee with you."
"Thank you, Phil, you're awfully good. It will be an immense help. It's easy enough to get fancy things, and even dining-room things; and we've oceans of books and desk fittings and such things. But it's hardest of all to get the very things you offer. And they'll sell, splendidly."
"And you girls dress appropriately, I suppose."
"Yes, of course we never lose a chance of dressing up. Elise will be in cap and gown, in the library. Marie Homer, in full evening regalia, in here. Several as waitresses in the dining-room; flower-girls in the halls; oh, yes, we even use the kitchen. We have cooks there, and they'll sell all sorts of aluminum cook dishes and laundry things. It's really very well planned and I s'pose it will be fun. In the little reception room we have all sorts of motor things,—robes, coats, lunch-baskets, cushions, all the best and newest motor accessories. General Sports goods, too, I believe. Daisy's running that."
"And where are you?"
"Up in my own boudoir. I'm to wear a gorgeous Chinese kimono and one fascinating cap after another, selling them off of my head to the eager throngs of purchasers!"
"Fine! You'll do a rushing business. I'll give you some wares to sell up there, too. Say, some Oriental couch cushions, and some Persian slippers, and things from Auntie's wardrobe."
"Do you think you ought to?"
"Why, of course. All her things are mine, and there are such quantities of really valuable stuffs and trinkets I don't know what to do with them. And as to Aunty Van's own wishes, I know she would have been glad to have them used in this way,—especially for you."
Patty looked up at him, quickly. She well remembered Mrs. Van Reypen's affection for her, and what form it took.
"Phil," she said, "I don't want you to give these things for my sake——"
"Now, don't you worry, Curlyhead, I give them solely and wholly for the good of the cause. Indeed, if you weren't connected with the affair, I'd give twice as many!"
Philip's smile contradicted this awful taradiddle, and Patty rejoiced at his nonsense. Much as she wanted his gifts for the Sale, she didn't want to feel that it placed her under special obligations to him.
Just then the doorbell sounded, and in a moment Daisy Dow and Bill Farnsworth appeared. They were in gay spirits, having been to see a new comic opera, which proved such a bore that they left before it was over.
"Such rubbish!" Daisy exclaimed. "Old jokes, old music, old dances.So I proposed we leave it to its fate and run up here. Glad to see us,Patty?"
"Yes, indeed! Just listen while I tell you of all the things I've wheedled out of Philip for our Sale."
"Gorgeous!" cried Daisy, after hearing the list. "Haven't you some for my room, Mr. Van Reypen?"
"I'm sure I have. You can use anything sporty?"
"Anything."
"Then I'll give you a first-class tennis set. I'll order it sent up from Ball and Bat's, or you can pick it out there yourself."
Daisy noticed that Van Reypen did not give her any of his aunt's heirlooms, but she gratefully accepted the offered gift.
"What shall I give you, Patty?" asked Bill. "What's your specialty?"
"Négligées and boudoir caps," said Patty, demurely; "have you any?"
"Something just as good. Want some Indian moccasins and Navajo blankets——"
"Now, Bill," said Daisy, "you promised me the Navajo, for a motor robe."
"All right. I'll give each good little girl one. Then Patty, how'd you like some real Hopi baskets?"
"Beautiful! You boys are awfully good to us. We'll have a wonderful sale."
"If only people come to buy," demurred Daisy.
"Oh, they'll come fast enough. We'll make oceans of money! I'm just beginning to get into the notion of the thing."
"Will those queer friends of yours be here?"
"What queer friends?"
"Those soully ones. I've never seen them, but I've heard a lot about them."
"From Chick Channing, I suppose," said Patty, coolly. "How that boy does love to exaggerate. I don't know, Daisy, whether they'll be here or not. If they are, use your wiles to sell them a lot of things out of your room, won't you?"
"Yes, I will, for I don't believe they'll care for your lace caps and pillows."
The House Sale was in full swing. It had been well advertised, and the object was a popular one, and throngs of willing buyers crowded the Fairfield house.
The family belongings had, many of them, been carried to the upper floors, and the first and second stories given over to the Bazaar.
The beds had been removed and the bedrooms were veritable stores of all sorts of light and dainty apparel and feminine trinkets. The rooms downstairs were filled with fine wares and were crowded with purchasers. The girls, dressed to suit their calling, were brisk and busy salesladies, and everywhere was laughter and merry chat.
Daisy, in a stunning new sports suit, looked with satisfaction on her stacks of golf accoutrements, skates, tennis sets, and side lines of bright caps and sweaters for both sexes. And her wares simply melted away. She laughingly put up her prices, but so attractive were the goods that they sold quickly.
Elise, too, did a rushing business in the library. She had several assistants, and they were all kept at work by the kind patrons. Many worthwhile books had been given the girls, and there were beside, library furnishings, and a few autographed books and letters that commanded large prices. A set of Riley's works was on sale, and these Farnsworth bought, requesting that they remain in their place until his further directions.
"Whatever are you going to do with them, Bill?" asked Elise, who looked like a pretty Portia in her cap and gown.
"Why not peruse them myself?" he returned.
"But I chance to know that you have a set of Riley."
"Well, maybe, I'll give them to somebody as a gift. If I can't find anybody to accept them, I'll turn them over to your girls' library."
"Oh, I dare say you can give them away. A beautiful set like that!Why, they're Russia bound!"
"Why, so they are!"
"As if he didn't know that!" exclaimed one of the girls to Elise, asFarnsworth sauntered away. "Why, he gave that set to the sale!"
"He did! And then bought them back again!"
"Yes, that's just what he has done."
"Oh, well, then, he does mean to give them to somebody,—somebody in particular."
And Farnsworth certainly did mean to give them to somebody in particular. He designed them as a gift for Patty. He knew she would enjoy the poems, and he chose the edition with great care. Then, to enhance the value, he made it a present to the Club Sale, and promptly bought it back.
The big Westerner made his way through the crowds, stopping here and there to buy a flower or a trinket from the beguiling vendors. He looked in at the dining-room, and saw the long table set with marvelous confections, each to be sold with its dish of fine china or crystal. Also, on side tables were center-pieces, doilies, and napkins of all varieties of embroidery and decoration. A large back veranda had been arranged as a refreshment room, and here Farnsworth discovered Nan and Mr. Fairfield eating ice cream.
"Join us," they begged, but a smiling headshake was the negative reply.
"I'm on a still hunt for Patty. I'm told she's upstairs."
"Yes, in her own rooms," said Nan. "But you can't get in, the place is jammed. Wait till she has sold off a lot of stuff, then there'll be at least standing room. I've just come down from there and I never saw such a crowd."
"I'm fairly good at stemming crowds,—I think I'll go up."
Farnsworth squared his broad shoulders and started up the stairway.
By tactful manoeuvring, rather than by muscular strength, he gained his goal, and stood in the doorway of Patty's boudoir.
She was showing off a boudoir set to a prospective purchaser. It was of pale blue brocaded satin, edged with swansdown. There was a fetching lace cap with blue bows and little yellow rosebuds; also dainty blue slippers with rosebuds on them. Gaily, Patty donned the lovely garments, over her fluffy white frock, and pirouetted before her own cheval glass.
"You see," she said, in wheedling, saleslady tones, "it is a work of art!Ma foi! but it ischic!n'est-ce pas? Excuse my fearful French, but I can't sell this Parisian rig in English!"
"It is just darling!" declared the lady who was looking at it. "Of course I'll take it. I never saw one I liked so well."
Farnsworth stood watching the scene, thinking how much Patty's winning personality added to the charm of the robe, and wondering if she would accept the books he had bought for her.
The sale concluded, Patty thanked her patron, and in a moment was called upon to repeat the performance, as indeed she had been doing most of the evening. This time it was not so willing a buyer.
A gaunt, elderly spinster, with elaborately coiffed white hair and ostentatious costume, demanded a kimono that should be just her style and of embroidered crêpe de chine.
"Here is a lovely one in heliotrope," said Patty, smiling as she brought one of the prettiest ones she had.
"Heliotrope!" the lady almost screamed. "Do I then look so old? Am I in the sere and yellow? Why do you offer me heliotrope?"
"Oh, don't you care for it?" said Patty, pleasantly; "it's one of my favourite colours. What colour do you like best?"
"I like amber, but, of course, you wouldn't have that. Green, now?"
"No, we don't seem to have those. We've mostly pink and blue."
"Old-fashioned! Why don't you have amber or russet?"
"I wish we had. I'd love to give you what you want. How about white?"
"Namby pamby! But show me what you have. I'm determined to get something."
"If you only cared for blue," and Patty sighed. "Here's a new box yet unopened, but it says on the end, 'Light Blue.' So that wouldn't do."
"Oh, well, let me see it."
Patty opened the Japanese looking box, and out from the tissue papers fell a dream of a kimono. Of palest blue silk, it was covered with embroidered apple blossoms, not in a set design, but powdered over it, as if wafted there by a summer breeze. The conventional Japanese flowers are cherry blooms, but these were true apple blossoms, softly pink and white, the very loveliest gown Patty had ever seen.
Farnsworth was looking on, and he, too, caught sight of the exquisite design. He looked quickly at Patty, and, in dumb show, begged her not to sell the garment. Nor had she any intention of doing so. The moment she saw it, she wanted it for herself, and began hastily to fold it back in its box.
"Wait! Stop!" cried the lady; "I think I want that."
"It's already sold," said Big Bill, stepping forward. "Isn't that the one I ordered, Miss Fairfield?"
"Is it?" said Patty, helplessly, wanting to laugh at the way the lady looked daggers at Bill, yet not knowing quite what to say.
"It is. Kindly lay it aside for me. Mark it Farnsworth."
"Do nothing of the sort!" snapped the lady. "You said that was an unopened box. It can't belong to any one then. I will take it. How much is it?"
Patty thought quickly. She had received a green kimono for Christmas, which she had not worn, and didn't care for. It had been sent her by a distant cousin, who would never know or care what she did with it.
"All right," she said, "take it if you like. You have the first right to it."
Farnsworth looked disturbed, but did not combat Patty's decision.
"But," Patty went on, "I think I have a green one, after all. I've just remembered it. You can take your choice."
Stepping aside to her own wardrobe, Patty brought out a box and shook out a very pretty green gown. She put it on, and, draping it gracefully, stood, with her head on one side, observing the effect. She then looked doubtfully at the lady, and said, "I dare say you like the blue one better, after all. This is a very pale green."
"It's a lovely green! Just the shade I like best. If you're willing,I'll take the green one, by all means."
"Whichever you choose," and Patty swished the green folds around to catch the light. Very becoming it was, and on pretty Patty it looked a dream of loveliness.
"It's just bewitching," declared the gratified purchaser, and she paid for it and left her address to have it sent home.
"Good work!" said Farnsworth, laughing, as the lady passed on to look at other tempting wares. "You hypnotised her into taking the green one. I say, Patty, I want to make you a present of that apple-blossom wrap; mayn't I?"
"It isn't a wrap," said Patty, disdainfully, "it's a kimono, and the very prettiest one I ever saw."
"All right. I don't care what the dinky thing's name is. It's the most exquisite colouring, and it suits you down to the ground."
"It fits me down to the ground, too," laughed Patty, flinging the robe on again, and gathering up its lustrous folds. It was too long for her, but that, of course, could be remedied.
"Yes, you'll have to take a reef in it. Will you accept it, LittleApple Blossom?"
"It's very expensive," Patty demurred, looking over her shoulder at the graceful lines of the garment.
"That doesn't matter," and Farnsworth pulled out a roll of bills from his pocket.
Patty gave him a scornful look. "Don't be so ostentatious!" she flouted. "I didn't mean you couldn't afford it. I mean, I don't care to accept a gift of such value. I know,—we all know—you have the wealth of the Indies!"
Farnsworth looked at her in sheer amazement, a deep red flush stealing over his face. Then, for a moment, he held her eyes with his own, looking steadily at her.
"Very well," he said, gently, returning his money to his pocket. "I won't give it to you, if you don't want me to."
"Oh, gracious to goodness! what a kimono!" cried Daisy Dow, who came flying into the room, "I never saw such a beauty! I want it! Is it yours, Patty? No? Oh, you're just trying it on."
"I'm considering its purchase," said Farnsworth, "if I can find somebody to give it to. Do you like it, Daisy?"
"Do Ilikeit! It's the loveliest thing in the whole Sale! By the way, just look at the presents I've had!"
Sure enough, Daisy was adorned with two or three gay-coloured sport sashes, over her arm were two silk sweaters, and she carried a basket, in which was a collection of gloves, ties, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and various odds and ends of sport apparel.
"What are you doing up here, anyway?" demanded Patty. "Who's looking after your room?"
"All sold out! Not a mite of anything left to sell. I came near disposing of your own pictures that still hang on the wall, and your tables and chairs. Are you really looking for somebody to buy that for, Bill? Well, it might as well be me!"
Daisy laughed gaily, and held out her hands for the kimono.
But Patty drew the blue folds around her and shook her yellow curls. "Possession is nine points of the law," she laughingly said. "I'm going to buy this thing myself."
"You can't," said Farnsworth, looking amused at the situation. "First come, first served. I asked for it before you thought of buying it. Now, I claim my purchase, and I shall give it to one or other of you two girls. I offered it to Patty first, so it is for her to say. If she refuses, I offer it to Daisy."
So gay was his manner, so light his tone, that Patty couldn't resent his words, but a twinkle in his eye made her realise that he knew he was cornering her. He knew how she admired the kimono. It would be difficult if not impossible to duplicate it. She must accept it from him or see Daisy triumphantly walk off with it.
The latter alternative was surely unthinkable! So Patty said, with exaggerated meekness, "Thank you, Little Billee, I accept it with pleasure. You are very kind."
Farnsworth burst out laughing at the mild tone and the shy, downcast eyes, whereupon Patty favoured him with an innocent stare, saying, "What is the matter?"
"A whole lot is the matter!" Daisy answered for him. "I wanted that robe, and now you've gone and got it, Patty Fairfield! You're the girl who gets everything! All right, Bill, just for that, you've got to give me the set of books you bought from Elise, and had saved for you. Will you?"
"If you say I've got to,—why ask me will I?" he returned, good-naturedly. "I am as wax in the hands of you two. Certainly, Daisy, I'll be honoured if you'll accept the books."
"What are they?" asked Patty, carelessly, as she still bent her attention to the embroideries of her new acquisition.
"Oh, it's a set of Riley. A wonderful set,—bound in Russia leather."
Patty looked up, quickly. She felt a conviction that Farnsworth had bought these books for her. To be sure she wouldn't want to accept two handsome presents from him, yet the idea of his so easily passing them over to Daisy annoyed her.
"Riley!" she exclaimed, involuntarily. "Why didn't you give those to me, instead of this gown?"
"The books are better suited to Daisy," he returned, "and the gown suits nobody but you."
"Oh, because Daisy is more intellectual, I suppose, and I'm——"
"Yes, and you're just a little piece of vanity, who cares only for dress and finery."
Farnsworth was having his innings now. Patty had hurt his feelings, and she knew it; and so, he was teasing her in return.
Daisy laughed at Patty's unmistakable chagrin, and ran away downstairs to claim her books.
It so chanced that there was no one else in Patty's boudoir at that moment. Everybody had flocked to the next room to see a new consignment of treasures displayed, and Farnsworth and Patty were alone.
"Yes," he said, looking straight at her, "I did buy the Riley set for you. But as you're so averse to accepting my ostentatious offerings, I thought better to give it to Daisy. And I had another reason, too."
"I'm glad you did," said Patty, coldly; "and I wish you had given her this also."
She began to draw off the kimono, but Farnsworth took a step toward her, and with one big swoop, gathered her into his arms.
"Apple Blossom!" he whispered, "my little Apple Blossom girl!"
So impulsive and all-embracing was the action, so swift the kiss that fell on Patty's pink cheek, and so quickly was she released, that she stood, gasping from breathlessness, and astonishment, as others began to return to the room.
Van Reypen was among them, and he called out to Patty:
"We've come for you. If your things aren't all sold, let somebody else look after them. We're going to supper now, and we want all our crowd together."
Gratefully, Patty turned to him, her head still in a whirl fromFarnsworth's audacity, and with Philip she went downstairs.
The next day was Saturday, and Patty woke to a somewhat dismantled and disordered room. Her bed had been restored to its place, after the guests had departed the night before, but other appointments were a bit lacking. Nan had forbidden her to rise until noon, for the Bazaar had meant a large expenditure of strength and nerve force, and Patty was not robust.
Before she rang for her morning chocolate, she thought over the events of the previous evening. She was furiously angry at Farnsworth. So much so, that she could think of little else.
"How dared he?" she exclaimed to herself. "The idea of his thinking I am the sort of girl he can pick up and kiss like that!"
And then her face grew pink with blushes and she buried it in a pillow because she realised she was not nearly so indignant as she ought to be!
"Good heavens!" she thought, frantically. "Am I in love with Little Billee? With a Westerner? A self-made man? Why, he can't hold a candle to Phil for birth and name! And yet—oh, no, I'm not in love with him! He's too—too—he takes too much for granted. It's got to stop! Think how he carried me out of the Studio party! And last night! No wonder he walked off home without seeing me again! I wonder what he will offer by way of apology or explanation. I believe I'll ask him!"
Patty reached out her hand for the telephone, and suddenly stopped.
"I can't!" she whispered to herself, shame-facedly, "I—I don't want any apology from him. I—I—oh, fiddlesticks! I don't knowwhatto do! Guess I'll have a talk with Nan—no, I won't. It was all very well to talk to her about Phil,—because I didn't care about him. But I do care about Billee. Oh! do I 'care for' him? I don't know—but I'm not going to think about it. It gets me all mixed up. I wonder—I wish I could go away. I will! I guess I can do as I've a mind to!"
After a little further thought, and a determined wag of the head, Patty rang her bell, and when the maid came she said, "Bring my chocolate, please, and then get out a suitcase, and pack it for me."
"Yes, Miss Patty," replied Jane, and until her breakfast came, Patty's mind worked rapidly.
"Jane, I'm going to elope," she announced, as the maid reappeared with a tray.
"Yes, Miss Patty," and though Jane's eyes flew wide open, she made no verbal comment.
"Don't look as if you had been shot!" said Patty, laughing; "I'm going alone, but you are to help me get off. Pack the things I tell you and then order the little car for me. I'm not going to tell you where I'm going, for I don't want any one to know. But after I'm gone, you may give Mrs. Fairfield a note I will leave with you. Understand?"
"Yes, Miss Patty," and Jane began at once to lay out the desired clothing.
"And," Patty went on, "if any one calls or telephones or asks for me in any way, just say that I've gone away for a few days to recuperate after the exertions of the House Sale."
She carried out her plan with no trouble at all. Jane took down the suitcase, Patty went down, too, by the back stairs, and got into the car unseen, and was driven to the Grand Central Station.
Admonishing the chauffeur to tell no one where he took her, Patty bought a ticket for Fern Falls, and in a few hours amazed Adele Kenerley by walking in at her front door.
"Patty Fairfield! You angel child! Wheredidyou drop from? The blue skies?"
"Not quite. I flew up from New York to beg the hospitality of your roof for a few days."
"For as long as we can keep you. You dear old thing! How well you look!"
"Don't say that! I'm here to recuperate after a strenuous gay season and a particularly tiring Bazaar thing last night."
"Oh, yes, Bazaars are the most tiresome things in the world! You ought never to go to them."
"This one came to me. It was at our house. I'll tell you all about it later. But, honestly, Adele, I was just ready to perfectly fly this morning! My nerves gave out, my muscles are all lame and tired, and then, my brain gave way. So, sez I, why not flee away to that haven of rest what I wot of,—and here I am flewn!"
"Well, I'm jolly glad to see you. Jim will be overjoyed, too. Come right up to your own room, and take off your things, while I go and speak to Cook. Anything particular you want for lunch?"
"No, thank you. Any old thing, so long as it's good. As if you ever had anything that wasn't salt of the earth!"
"Oh, Patty! You don't eat salt of the earth! Unless you're a cannibal!"
"I'd like to know what kind of salt you do eat, then! Run along,Adele, and order a dressy luncheon. I am pretty hungry."
Mrs. Kenerley went off, and Patty stood for a moment, looking out of the window. "I did just the right thing," she said to herself. "Up here, where it's so quiet and peaceful, I can think things out, and know just where I stand. Down home, I shouldn't have had a minute to myself. It is beautiful here. So peaceful and calm."
Patty turned, as some one entered her room, and saw a maid, ready to unpack for her.
"I've only a suitcase, Tessie," she smiled. "I'm here but for two or three days."
"Yes, Miss Fairfield. It's good to see you again. What will you put on?"
"The little rose Georgette, please. Why, here are two of my frocks in this wardrobe!"
"Yes, you left them last summer, and Mrs. Kenerley said to leave them there against your next visit."
"Good work! Here's a white crêpe de chine. Just the thing for tomorrow. No guests, are there, Tessie?"
"None, Miss Fairfield. Some ladies left this morning."
"Now, tell me all about it," said Adele, coming back. "You may go,Tessie. I'll look after Miss Fairfield."
Tessie went away, and the two friends sat down for a chat.
"First of all, Adele," Patty said, "I don't want any one to know where I am. I want a few days of absolute freedom from interruption,—I've some things to think out."
"H'm," said Adele. "Who is he?"
Patty turned pink. "Nobody," she returned; "or, if it's anybody, it's Phil Van Reypen; he wants me to marry him, and I don't know whether to or not."
Adele looked at Patty's transparent face, and knew she was not telling the whole truth. "You won't," she said, astutely. "But never mind why you came, dear; tell me as much or as little as you wish. And nobody shall know of your whereabouts, I promise you that. We'll have a lovely, comfy time, just by ourselves."
"And I'll tell you this much, Adele; if Bill Farnsworth telephones, on no account tell him I'm here. Please tell him I'mnot!"
"Oh, fie, fie, Patty; tell a naughty story?"
"Sometimes a naughty story is justifiable; or, well, if you can't conscientiously do it, let me know if he threatens to come up here and I'll scoot off somewhere else."
"I think I see you! I'll leave it to Jim. He'll manage it diplomatically. And perhaps Bill won't telephone."
"No, most likely not. But he may. He doesn't know I'm here,—nobody does,—but I suppose this will be the first place anybody would suspect me of being."
"I think very likely. Come on, now, I'll help you dress for lunch.What a beautiful kimono! Where did you get that?"
"At the Sale last night. Oh, we had wonderful things. Everybody donated, you know, and then came and bought the things. Philip gave us some of Aunty Van Reypen's bronzes and ivory carvings. I think we'll make a lot of money."
"And you ran away the morning after! Didn't you want to know how the funds summed up?"
"Oh, yes; but the house was in such a fearful state! Furniture all moved and things every which way. I was glad to disappear until it gets into shape again."
"And doesn't Mrs. Fairfield or your father know where you are?"
"Well, I left a note for Nan, and I didn't tell her just where I was going, so she could tell people that I hadn't; but I gave her sufficient hints, so she can form a fairly correct notion of my destination."
"All right, Pattykins, I'll look after you, and no one shall learn from me where you are,—least of all, that terrible ogre, Bill Farnsworth!"
Patty smiled, and the two friends went downstairs. Jim Kenerley was beaming with welcomes, and declared that he, too, would keep the secret of Patty's presence under his roof, even at the point of the bayonet.
But, alas, for good intentions!
That afternoon, Kenerley sought his wife, consternation in every line of his good-looking countenance.
"Where's Patty?" he asked, abruptly.
"I sent her off for a nap. She's all tired out. Why?"
"Well, Farnsworth is on his way up here."
"What? Why did you let him come?"
"Couldn't help it. You see it was this way. The clerk, or somebody at his hotel telephoned, and said that Mr. Farnsworth had suddenly decided to run up here, and that he hadn't time to telephone and then get his train. So he instructed the clerk to get me and tell me Bill was on the way. He'll be here a little after seven. What shall we do?"
"Mercy! I don't know. Let me think. Patty is awfully angry with him about something, and I've promised her not to let him know where she is."
"Lovers' quarrel?"
"I don't know. I haven't had a real talk with Patty yet, she's so fagged out. I want her to rest up. But she says she's bothered about Philip Van Reypen."
"Then depend upon it, it's somebody else! Farnsworth, probably."
"She could do a lot worse than to marry Bill."
"Indeed she could! But, all the same, if Patty doesn't want him here, he mustn't come."
"That's all very well, but how will you prevent it?"
"I don't know. Meet him with a shotgun?"
"Now, be serious, Jim. We must protect Patty at any cost. Can't we telegraph him on the train?"
"Not a chance. Do you think he knows she's here?"
"He can't know it. He may suspect it. Well, he'll have to come, and he'll have to stay over night; we can't send him packing, with no decent excuse."
"Tell him Cook has the smallpox."
"Don't be silly! I can manage it, I think. Yes, with your help, it can be done."
"My dear Adele, I offer my help in its entirety, and then some."
"I'll need all that—maybe more. It's no easy job, but I'll try it, rather than have Patty disturbed."
"Might a mere man ask the nature of your plans?"
Adele Kenerley looked affectionately at her husband. "Yes, but you mustn't hoot at them. Yours not to question why, yours not to make objection."
"Mine only to do or die, like those other heroes, I suppose."
"Yes, but you're to do, not die. The die is cast! I've cast it. Now, stop fooling, Jim, and listen to me. Those two people shall be in this house at the same time, and neither will suspect that the other is here."
"Impossible!"
"There was a gentleman once, named Napoleon. He remarked, 'If it is possible, it must be done. If it is impossible, itshallbe done!' That's my motto."
"Good for you, General! Go ahead. Command me, Madame!"
"Well, and now listen, Jim, and be serious. We'll have two dinners tonight——"
"Whew! I can't stand everything!"
"Silence, sir! We'll have dinner at six; and then I'll tuck Patty in bed early, to get her rest. Then, Bill will get here about seven, and we'll have another dinner for him. I can look after tomorrow morning,—— Patty will breakfast in her room. Then, about eleven o'clock or noon, you must take Bill for a long motor ride, lunch somewhere on the road. I'll have Patty lunch here with me. Then, I'll put her away for an afternoon nap, and we must then have dinner for Bill and,—make him go home. I couldn't keep it up any longer than that."
"I should say not! Regular Box and Cox game. But it may be we can put it over. I'll do all I can. But s'pose he won't go home tomorrow afternoon?"
"Make him. Even if you have to telephone to his hotel to send a hurry wire for him."
"Capital! I'll do that, if I have to. All right, little woman, you act as Patty's jailer, and I'll look after Farnsworth."
And so, at five o'clock, Adele went to Patty's room. She found that young woman, robed in her apple blossom gown, asleep, with her head on a much crumpled pillow. There were traces of tears on the pink cheeks, but the blue eyes were tightly closed.
"Wake up, Pattibelle," said Adele, gently patting her shoulder. "We're to have an early dinner, 'cause Jim has to go off to some meeting or other, and I thought you wouldn't mind."
"Mind? Of course not," and Patty sprang up, very wide-awake. "I won't dress much, Adele."
"No; wear the same frock you had on for lunch. Twist up that yellow mop of yours, and come along down, now. I want you to take a stroll around the domain while there's a scrap of daylight left."
The hour before dinner soon passed, and then, laughing with merriment, the hosts and guest went in to dinner.
The Kenerleys were in specially gay spirits, it seemed to Patty, and she held her own in fun and repartee.
"You must stay a long time, Patty," Jim declared. "You're more fun than a barrel of monkeys! I'm awfully glad you came."
"So'm I," assented Patty; "I wanted to get away from the giddy whirl, and lead the simple life for a few days."
"Sometimes the simple life is very complicated," observed Kenerley, and he glanced at the clock.
Adele took the hint. "You want to get away, don't you, dear?" she said. "And we've been dawdling over dessert! Patty, I shan't give you any coffee tonight. I'm afraid it will keep you awake, and you need sleep. My, but you're hollow-eyed! I suppose you've kept late hours all winter."
"Pretty much. But I sleep a good deal, too. And I feel all right, now. I'm not going to bed before you come back, Jim."
"Indeed you are!" cried Adele. "Now, not a word from you, Miss! I'm your nurse at present, and you will obey my orders!"
Kenerley started off to drive to the station for Farnsworth. He felt sure his wife would have Patty out of the way when they returned, but he didn't know just how she'd manage it.
Nor was it easy. But Adele wandered about the house with her guest, and finally declared the moonlight view was prettier from Patty's windows than anywhere else. She lured the girl upstairs, and then cleverly persuaded her to don a dressing-gown and lie down, while she, Adele, looked after some household matters, and she would then return for a confab.
Such a clever and resourceful housekeeper as Adele Kenerley found no trouble in arranging a second dinner for half-past seven, although one had been served at six. Patty safely out of the way, Adele presided at the board with a light-hearted gaiety that surprised even her husband.
Farnsworth, too, was in good spirits, though both the Kenerleys detected a roving eye and an alert ear that made them think he suspected, or at least hoped, that Patty was there. But he said nothing that indicated his thoughts except to ask on arrival if there were other guests.
"As you see," said Adele. "But I'm flattering myself that you came this time just to visit the Kenerleys."
"What more could one desire?" returned Farnsworth. And the conversation continued in a light and impersonal tone. Patty's name was mentioned, and innocently enough. Adele asked how she was.
"Well, I trust," said Farnsworth. "I was at her house at a Sale affair, last night, and she was all right then. Very much all right. But today, I called up the house, and they said she had gone away. I don't know where."
"And you thought she was up here! Oh, Big Bill, and I thought you came to see us!" Adele looked deeply chagrined.
"I'm jolly glad to see you, Adele, but to be honest, that little Patty person has turned my head."
"Truly, Bill?"
"Very truly, Adele. It's one thing or the other with me now. I must find her and if she says me nay, I go back to Arizona for good and all. No more East for me."
Jim Kenerley, catching the earnest note in Farnsworth's voice, had all he could do to keep from telling him then and there of Patty's presence under that same roof, but a decided head-shake from Adele restrained him.
For Adele felt in honour bound to keep Patty's secret, unless the girl herself released her from her promise.
As soon as she could, Adele excused herself and left the two men to smoke and chat together. She went to Patty's room, determined to find out the true state of affairs. But Patty was asleep, and so profoundly did she slumber that it seemed a shame to waken her.
So the game went on. Adele went back downstairs, and the three friends spent a pleasant evening together. At bedtime Farnsworth declared his intention of leaving in the morning, and sure that he would do so, Adele hospitably urged him to remain till after dinner. To her surprise, he acquiesced, and said he would go down to New York on a late afternoon train.
"Now, you have done it!" said Kenerley to his wife, after their guest had gone to his room.
"I know it, Jim. It was all my fault! But I never dreamed he'd stay over so easily! Oh, if I'd only let him go on the morning train!"
"We'll have to keep up the hide and seek."
"Yes, and we can do it. Only it would have been so much easier the other way."
"Perhaps Patty will relent."
"Not she! If you had seen her eyes flash, when she spoke of him. She's desperately angry with him, for some reason. But tomorrow morning will be all right. And I'll plan the day. There'll be no trouble."
Adele's clever managing made her words good. Patty had breakfast in her room, of course, and at nine o'clock, Farnsworth and the Kenerleys had their own morning meal. A pleasant affair it was in the sunny dining-room, and, without seeming to do so, Adele tactfully gave her guest an opportunity to depart, by saying that Jim had to go for a long trip in the motor.
But Farnsworth said, "Good! I'll go along. Unless I'm in the way, old chap?"
"Not at all," returned Kenerley, cordially, and that matter was settled.
The two men left about eleven, and Adele went to Patty's room.
"I'm all over my tired-outness," declared a very fresh-looking, rosy young person. "I've had my tub, and now I'm going to dress up and behave like a good citizen. You're a duck, Adele, to put up with a worn-out wreck, as I was yesterday, but now I'm myself again. I want to go for a motor ride, and for a walk, and eat a big luncheon, and come back to life, generally."
"Good for you! And have you settled all the troublesome affairs that were bothering you?"
"How did you know I had any?"
"Now, don't confide in me unless you want to." Wily Adele knew the touch of perversity in Patty's make-up.
"Oh, there's nothing much to confide. I got fearfully mad at Bill Farnsworth, and I ran up here to get away from him. That's the story of my life."
"What was the bone of contention?"
"Well, I suppose I was. Also, he was very rude and unmannerly. Also,—and this is why I hate him so,—he's suddenly grown rich, Adele, and he's terribly ostentatious about it——"
"Bill Farnsworth ostentatious! I don't believe it!"
"Yes, he is. He showed off big rolls of money at the Sale——"
"But, Patty, he was buying things, wasn't he?"
"I don't care if he was. And, besides, Adele, he—well, he implied, if he didn't say it straight out, that now he was rich, maybe I'd marry him! As if I was a fortune-hunter!"
"Oh, Patty, you little goose! Bill has always been poor, or at least, he had only a moderate income. I can see how he would be glad if he had good fortune, to offer it to you. Poor Bill! You mistook his meaning, I'm sure."
"No, I didn't, and I hate him, and I never want to hear his name mentioned again!"
"Nor see him?"
"Mercy, no! And now, drop the subject. I tell you I came up here to get away from him! He's in love with Daisy Dow, anyway."
"What makes you think so?"
"Oh, he's always with her. And he gave her some lovely books that he had bought on purpose for me! And, Daisy says things all the time that prove it. I don't want anything to do with another girl's rustic swain. That I don't!"
"Just a minute, Patty. Do you really consider Bill a rustic,—uncultured, and all that, I mean?"
Patty looked serious. "No, Adele, I don't. He hasn't a certain polish, that some men have, but he is a thorough gentleman and a splendid man. I must say that, in all honesty. But he is a domineering, head-strong nature, and he couldn't make any girl happy!"
"Oh, couldn't he!" said Adele, but she said it to herself, not aloud.
The subject was really dropped then, and Patty began to dress for luncheon.
"I'm going to put on this white crêpe de chine," she said. "I found it hanging in the wardrobe, left from last summer. I'd almost forgotten I had it. It's a pretty frock, isn't it?"
"Yes. But, I grieve to state, Pattibelle, we'll be alone at lunch, you and I. Jim has gone miles off in the country, and won't be back before six or so."
"Whatever for?"
"Oh,—on some business."
"Business! On Sunday?"
"He's looking at a car he's thinking of buying. The man could only see him today."
"Oh, well, all right. But I'll dress up anyway, for my own self-respect. I like myself better in a pretty gown, and I'm not going to take naps all day today, I can tell you."
Patty flew around, making her toilette, and humming little snatches of song. Adele thought she had never seen her look so pretty. The white frock was soft and filmy; the round neck a trifle low, the frilled sleeves showing her dimpled arms, and a soft sash made of a breadth of palest pink silk, round the waist.
"You're a dream!" declared Adele. "It's a shame to waste such a vision of beauty on me. I believe I'll telephone for Bob Peyton to come over to lunch."
"No, don't. I'd rather not have him. I like to be alone with you much better. Ask him over for dinner, if you like."
So the two lunched alone, and then came the difficult crisis.
Patty flatly rebelled against Adele's suggestion that she take an afternoon nap to be fresh for the evening.
"What's the matter with you, Adele?" she laughed. "Do you think I'm a dormouse? Or a bear who wants to hibernate? I'm as wide-awake as you are!"
"It isn't that, Patty," and poor Adele was at her wits' end, "but you're really run down—er—nerve exhaustion, you know——"
"Well,yournerve isn't exhausted! To make me go to bed by day,—all the whole time!"
"Now, Patsy, don't be stubborn. Give me my way, this once. If you'll go to your room, and stay there and rest quietly till five o'clock, I won't say another word about your resting, while you're here. But you're—really,—you're so improved since you came, that I want to complete the cure. Scoot off, now, and then at five o'clock Jim will be back, and we'll have lots of fun."
"It's nearly half-past two, now. Well, I don't see much else to do, soI'll go. But remember, it's the last of this foolishness."
"I'll remember. Run along now, and don't show your face below stairs till five. Cross your heart?"
"Yep. Cross my heart and hope to never! By-by."
Patty ran upstairs and closed her room door behind her. Never really at a loss to entertain herself, she read some magazines, wrote two or three letters that had been long owing, and then mooned around looking out of her windows at the distant hills, bright with winter sunshine. She opened the long French window to the balcony and stepped out. It was snappily cold, so she went back long enough to catch up a wrap. The apple blossom kimono was the first thing she saw, so she slipped into it, and went out on the balcony. The bracing air was delightful, and she walked up and down, drawing long deep breaths of ozone. There was a low railing round the little balcony and Patty sat down on it. The ground was only about eight feet below her, for the house was built on a side hill, and the slope was abrupt.
"I could almost lean down and pick violets," she mused, "if there were any to pick. But it's nowhere near spring, yet."
She drew her wrap more closely about her and rose to go in the house again.
"Well!" came in an explosive voice, just below her. Patty looked down and saw Farnsworth standing there, his face radiant with glad surprise.
"Little Billee!" she exclaimed, impulsively leaning over the rail."What are you here for?"
"You! And I can't wait another minute!Jump!"
Not pausing to think, impelled by his quick command, Patty stepped over the rail and jumped.
Farnsworth caught her deftly in his arms just as her feet touched the ground, and held her there.
"Look at me," he said, and his always musical voice had a ring in itPatty had never heard before.
The golden head, bowed against his broad chest, lifted a little, andPatty's blue eyes shone into his own. Steadily he looked for a moment,and then said, quietly, but exultantly, "You love me! Oh, my PattyBlossom!"
Patty stood very still. It seemed to her that the end of the world had come—or the beginning,—she wasn't sure which.
"Come," said Farnsworth, still with that glad, exultant note of triumph in his voice. He led her to the house, walking quickly and with springing step.
Adele was in the hall as they entered.
"Good heavens!" she said, helplessly, as she stared at them.
"Adele," Farnsworth's words fairly rang out, "don't stop us. We're just getting engaged, and we want a few minutes alone."
"I should say so!" and half dazed at the suddenness of the news, Adele opened the door of a little reception room, and let them in. Then she closed it, and ran hot haste to find Jim.
A wood fire was blazing and Patty threw off the silk wrap.
"Apple Blossom," said Farnsworth, as he took it from her, and tossed it over a sofa, "my Blossom girl!"
He took the soft, trembling little figure in his arms, the pretty white frock sadly crushed in his strong embrace.
"My Love, my Patty Blossom!" he murmured, and then, with his first kiss on her quivering, scarlet lips, Patty knew that she "cared for" this big, tender giant, with her whole heart, and she began to realise how he loved her.
"Patty! darling! I have loved you so long, but I had no idea what it would mean to know you love me!"
"What does it mean?" she said, softly.
"It means heaven! Great, blue, sunshiny, cloudless heaven! Oh, my little girl, I can't tell you all it means, there aren't any words big enough. You do love me, don't you? How do you know you do?"
"Because I jumped," and the blue eyes smiled at him. "I jumped becauseI couldn't help it."