Patty—Bride

He lived with a pleasant family in the Capital, and his quarters were the whole of the second floor of the small house. This gave him a good-sized sitting room, which was his private office, and here he transacted all business that didn’t require his presence at the more public buildings.

He kept doggedly at work, determined not to let the disturbing episode interfere with his efficiency. And he succeeded, but only by dint of perseverance in his resolve not to think of Patty at all.

This was difficult, for every glance of his eye fell on something remindful of her. A photograph on his desk; other little snapshots lurking among his papers; a paper-cutter she had given him; indeed, the pen he wrote with was her parting gift; and all spoke eloquently of the girl he had so reluctantly left behind him.

“Busy, Captain?” called a gay voice, and a merry face peeped in at the door.

“Always busy,” he returned, cheerily, “but never too busy to say good morning.”

“Oh, I know what that means! That I must say good morning, and nothing more! But I do want just half a dozen more words.”

The piquant face smiled coaxingly, as Lena Richards danced in. She was the daughter of the house, a dark-haired, olive-skinned little gipsy, who, being quite spoiled by her doting parents, assumed the right to have her own way with every one else.

Farnsworth liked her as no one could help doing, but he was often obliged to speak more curtly than he liked to, or she would intrude too often on his time.

She wore a smock of pink linen and her curly hair was bundled into a little Dutch cap. She came in, with the venturesome air of a mischievous child, and perched saucily on the corner of the big desk.

“You see,” she began, “I’m in an awful scrape – well, that is, I’m not, but somebody else is – ”

“Who isn’t?” said Farnsworth, smiling at the roguish little face that wore such a troubled frown.

“Yes, I s’pose everybody is, more or less, from the President down. And when you think of that, my little brother does seem small, but – you see, to me – ”

“It’s a national calamity?”

“Personal rather than national, – yet it may be said to be international.”

“Many of our troubles are. Your story interests me strangely, – my che-ild, – but truly, Lena, I can’t take time now to hear the yarn. I suppose your fudge was lumpy, or your new ribbons don’t match your frock, – is that it?”

“You always talk as if I were a child!” and the scarlet lips pouted petulantly.

“Of course! I always think of you as a kiddy in a middy.”

“This isn’t a middy, it’s a smock, and a very grown up one at that.”

“Do smocks grow up? Thought they only grew old. Well, anyway, whatever your age, I’ve no time to waste on you this morning. My country needs me!”

“You’re always so unkind to me, – ” and two crystal drops formed in the big, brown eyes.

Now, William Farnsworth was the sort of man who can’t stand seeing a woman in distress. And though he knew that this sixteen-year-old chit could have no real or deep trouble, he yet could not bring himself to speak sternly to her, and tell her to leave the room.

Against his will, he obeyed the dictates of his kind heart, and taking out his watch, said:

“I’ll give you ten minutes. Spill your story in Papa’s ear!”

The dark little face lighted with gladness, and Lena murmured, “How good you are! Listen, then! You know my friend, Gracie Hadley?”

“Haven’t the pleasure. Who’s she in America?”

“Well, she’s just Gracie, that’s all. And – sh!” – Lena looked cautiously about, “don’t breathe it, but she’s in love with an English chap who’s over here. And her mother doesn’t approve – ”

“Why? Who’s the Britisher?”

“I don’t want to tell you, ’cause it’s Gracie’s secret – ”

“All right; I don’t want to know anyway. But where do I come in? I hate to hurry you, but I’m assuming I play a part in this tragedy, and I want my cue, for honest to goodness, Lena, I’ve troubles of my own!”

“Yes, I know, Captain, and I won’t be but a minute explaining. Well, Gracie has been corresponding with this man, – ”

“Oh, naughty! naughty!”

“Hush! It’s all right; only of course, she doesn’t want her mother to know. Well, she tears up his letters, but —what do you think!”

“Censor?”

“No! but the man has given her her letters to him – ”

“Returned them!”

“No; I mean yes, – but for this reason – you fluster me so, – with your snapping up!”

“Well, well, go and tell it in your own way. But, for Heaven’s sake, hurry up!”

“All right. You see he gave her these letters to save for him just while he’s away somewhere, and he wants them when he comes back.”

“Can’t she write some more?”

“Oh! You’re so unfeeling! So – why, you’re stupid!”

“Pardon, – sorry! Fire away.”

“Never mind details, – Gracie can’t keep them at home, for fear her mother will find them – she snoops awfully! And —I can’t keep them here, – ”

“For a similar reason?”

“Yes; exactly! So, – Captain Farnsworth, – nice, dear Captain Farnsworth, won’t you let me hid them in here, – among your things?”

“Goodness! Little One, is that all you want? Sure! Hide them wherever you like in my domain. Your eagle-eyed mother won’t find them in here! But, hold on! Nothing that wouldn’t get by the Censor, is there?”

“Oh, goodness, no! Nothing like that!”

“Guess I’ll have to have a glimpse of ’em, though. Not to pry into the lovers’ confidences, of course, but because I can’t harbour papers unless I’m satisfied of their contents.”

“All right, – that goes! I’ll get them now;” and running from the room, Lena returned with a small packet of letters tied with blue ribbon.

Farnsworth examined the envelopes, and glanced here and there at the written pages.

“All right,” he said, re-tying the packet, “internal evidence proves conclusively to my mind that these documents are just what you describe them to be. Say we put them in the top drawer of my chiffonier; how’s that?”