Patty Blossom

"You're real poetry," said Blaney, simply, as he put the written paper in his pocket.

"No, no," cried Patty, "give it to me. It's mine. You made it for me and it's mine. Nobody ever made a real poem for me before. I want it."

"Oh, nonsense, you don't want it."

"Indeed I do. I must have it."

"Will you promise not to show it to anybody?"

"'Course not! I'll show it to everybody!"

"Then you can't have it. I'm sensitive, I admit, but I can't bear to have the children of my brain bruited to the world–"

"I haven't a notion what bruited means, but I promise you I won't do that. I'll keep it sacredly guarded from human eyes, and read it to myself when I'm all alone. Why, Mr. Blaney, it's a wonderful poem. I've simply got to have it, and that's all there is about that!"

"I give it to you, then, but don't,—please don't show it to the hilarious populace. It is for you only."

"All right. I'll keep it for me only. But I haven't half thanked you for it. I do appreciate it, I assure you, and I feel guilty because I underrated your talent. But perhaps it is because I saw you do it, that I care so very much for it. Anyway, I thank you."

Patty held out her hand in genuine gratitude, and, taking it gently, Blaney held it a moment as he said, "I claim my reward. May I come to see you in New York?"

"Yes, indeed, I'll be awfully glad to have you. And Alla must come, too. I'll make a party for you as soon as the wedding is over. Will you be at that?"

"At the reception, yes. And I shall see you there?"

"Of course. I say, Mr. Blaney, why don't you write a wedding poem for Miss Galbraith? She'd love it! She wants everything for her wedding that can possibly be procured."

"No. A poem of mine cannot be ordered, as from a caterer!"

"Oh, forgive me! I didn't mean that. But, I thought you might write one, because I asked you."

"No, Miss Fairfield. Anything you want for yourself, but not for others. A thousand times no! You understand?"

"Yes, of course. I oughtn't to have asked you. But I'm so delighted with this poem of mine, that I spoke unthinkingly. Now, I must run away; Elise is beckoning frantically, and I daresay the guests are taking leave of me, and I'm not there! Good-bye, Mr. Blaney, until we meet in New York. And thank you more than I can say for your gift, your ever-to-be treasured gift."

"It is my privilege to have offered it and for me to thank you for the opportunity."

CHAPTER IX

A SHOWER

"If you ask me," Patty said to Nan, "I think these 'shower' affairs are ridiculous. All the girls who are coming today will give Mona a wedding present, so why add a shower gift?"

"I didn't ask you," returned Nan, "but since you raise the question, I'll just remark, in passing, that it's part of the performance, and it's no more ridiculous than lots of the other flummery that goes along with a this year's model wedding. I didn't have any showers,—but that was then."

"Right you are, Lady Gay, and as Mona most especially desired this mark of esteem from her friends, I'm glad she's going to have it."

"But I thought showers were usually surprises,—I didn't know the bride-elect requested one, or even knew of it beforehand."

"Your think is correct. It's most unusual, but Mona is unusual, and any surprise in connection with her wedding would be impossible. She knows it all, and the arrangements are all under her direct supervision. It's going to be a pretty stunning affair, Nansome."

"So I gather from what I hear. While you were at Lakewood, I didn't get much of the news about it, but since your return I've heard of nothing else."

"And you won't until after the fifteenth. I declare, Nan, I've had no time for a real heart to heart talk with you since I got back. I haven't even told you about the Blaneys."

"Oh, the highbrow people? No; were they interesting?"

"Yes, indeed. You'll meet them at the wedding. Now, see here, I've asked half a dozen of the crowd to stay to dinner tonight after the shower, so look after the commissariat, won't you?"

"With pleasure. Who's staying?"

"Oh, Mona and Roger and Elise and Kit Cameron and Phil,—that's all."

"Elise and Kit are pretty good friends, aren't they?"

"Yes, there may be another wedding in the dim future."

"Be careful, Patty. They say 'Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride,' you know."

"Goodness! I must beware. I was bridesmaid for Christine,—and now for Mona,—then, if I'm bridesmaid for Elise, my last hope vanishes! I might be her maid of honor, though. Does that count?"

"Yes, counts just the same. But perhaps you'll be married before Elise. She isn't engaged yet."

"Neither am I."

"Same as."

"Indeed it isn't same as! Philip made me pretty mad down at Lakewood. He scorned my new friends, the Blaneys, and he was most disagreeable about it, too."

"All right. Far be it from me to hasten your matrimonial alliance. I'm only too glad to keep you here. It's lonesome enough, days when you're away."

"Nice old Nan!" and Patty gave her a whirlwind hug that nearly took her off her feet.

Twenty girls were invited to the shower, and Mona arrived first of all. She came bustling in enveloped in furs, which she unfastened and threw off as she talked.

"Everything's going fine!" she announced. "I've attended to the very smallest details myself, so there'll be no mistakes. There always are mistakes and oversights at a wedding and mine is going to be the great exception. My, but I'm tired! I've been chasing about since early this morning. Spent hours with the floral artist, and had a long interview with the caterer. But I confab with him every day. I've changed the menu four times already."

"You're a goose, Mona," observed Patty, smiling at her enthusiastic friend, "what do you care what people eat at your wedding, as long as it's good and proper?"

"My dear child, I only expect to get married once in my checkered career, and so I want everything connected with the occasion to be perfect. I don't want to look back and regret that I didn't have as much of a symphony in the supper as I did in the orchestra. You don't know the responsibility of a girl who has to get married and look after the wedding both. You'll have Mrs. Nan to run the arrangements, but I haven't anybody but little Mona."

The bride-elect looked so radiant and capable and generally happy, that Patty knew better than to waste any sympathy on her.

"You love it all, Mona," she said, "you're just in your element ordering decorations and deciding menus; and I suppose you've superintended the hat-check people and the elevator service."

"Of course I have. I practically run the whole hotel just at present. The management have to take a back seat where anything connected with the fifteenth is concerned."

"It doesn't seem like a wedding at all," laughed Patty. "It is more like a pageant."