Patty's Butterfly Days

Patty obeyed directions, while she thought over his idea. "Maid of the Mist" sounded pretty, and the artist's float was sure to be a beautiful one.

"Yes, I'll take that part, if you want me to," she said, and Mr. Cromer said he would design her costume that afternoon.

"Hello, Apple Blossom!" called a big, round voice, and Bill Farnsworth came strolling along the terrace. Perched on his shoulder was Baby May, her tiny hands grasping his thick, wavy hair, and her tiny feet kicking, as she squealed in glee.

"Misser Bill my horsie," she announced. "Me go ridy-by."

"IS there something on my shoulder?" asked Bill, seemingly unconscious of his burden. "I thought a piece of thistledown lighted there, but it may have blown off."

"There is a bit of thistledown there," said Patty, "but don't brush it off. It's rather becoming to you."

"Indeed it is," agreed Cromer. "I'd like to sketch you and that mite of humanity together."

"You're ready to sketch anybody that comes along, seems to me," observed Bill. "Isn't this Miss Fairfield's turn?"

"I expect she's about tired of holding her pose," said the artist. "I'll give her a rest, and make a lightning sketch of you two. Baby's mother may like to have it."

"Oh, give it to me!" begged Patty. "I'd love to have a picture of Baby May."

"But there'll be so much more of me in it than Baby May," said Bill, gravely.

"Never mind," laughed Patty. "I shan't object to your presence there. Now, I'll run away while you pose, for I MIGHT make you laugh at the wrong time."

"Don't go," pleaded Bill, but Patty had already gone.

"What a beautiful thing she is," said Cromer, as he worked away at his sketch-block. He spoke quite as if referring to some inanimate object, for he looked at Patty only with an artist's eye.

"She is," agreed Bill. "She's all of that, and then some. She'll make a perfect Spirit of the Sea. I say, Cromer, help me rig up my Neptune togs, will you?"

"Of course I will, old chap. But Miss Fairfield isn't going to be on your float. She's agreed to be my Maid of the Mist."

"She HAS! I say, Cromer, that's too bad of you! How did you persuade her to change her plan?"

"She didn't change. She had no idea of being on your float. She asked me what I thought she'd better be, and she said all the most desirable parts were already assigned."

"H'm, quite so! Oh, of course,—certainly! Yes, yes, INDEED!"

"What's the matter with you, Bill? Are you raving? Your speech is a bit incoherent."

"Incoherent, is it? Lucky for you! If I were coherent, or said what I'm thinking, you'd be some surprised! You go on making your pencil marks while I think this thing out. All right, Baby; did Uncle Bill joggle you too much? There,—now you're comfy again, aren't you? I say, Laurence, I'll have my picture taken some other day. Excuse me now, won't you? I have a few small fish to fry. Come, Babykins, let's go find mummy."

"H'm," said Laurence Cromer to himself, as Bill swung off with mighty strides toward the house. "Somehow, I fancy he'll regain his lost Spirit of the Sea, or there'll be something doing!"

Baby May was gently, if somewhat unceremoniously, deposited in her mother's lap, and Bill said gaily, "Much obliged for this dance. Reserve me one for to-morrow morning at the same hour. And, I say, Mrs. Kenerley, could you put me on the trail of Miss Fairfield?"

"She went off in her runabout with Roger Farrington. I think she's heading for the telegraph office to order much materials and gewgaws for the Pageant."

"Then, do you know where Daisy Dow is? I MUST flirt with somebody!"

"Try me," said pretty little Mrs. Kenerley, demurely.

"I would, but I'm afraid Baby May would tell her father."

"That's so; she might. Well, Daisy is at the telephone in the library;

I hear her talking."

"Thank you," said Big Bill, abruptly, and started for the library.

"Yes," he heard Daisy saying as he entered the room, "a long, light green veil, floating backward, held by a wreath of silver stars … Certainly … Oh, yes, I understand … Good-bye."

She hung up the receiver, and turned to see Bill looking at her with a peculiar expression on his handsome, honest face.

"What are you going to represent in your light green veil, Daisy?" he asked.

"The Spirit of the Sea," she replied. "I've arranged for the loveliest costume,—all green and shimmery, and dripping with seaweed."

"How did you happen to be chosen for that part, Daisy?"

"Guy Martin insisted upon it. He said there was no one else just right for it."

"How about Patty Fairfield?"

"Oh, she WOULDN'T take it. She told Guy so."

"She did! I wonder WHY she wouldn't take it?"

"I don't know, Bill, I'm sure. It COULDN'T have been because you're Neptune, could it?"

"It might be," Bill flung out, between closed teeth, and turning, he strode quickly away.

"Bill," called Daisy, and he returned.

"What is it?" he said, and his face showed a hurt, pained look, rather than anger.

"Only this: Patty asked Guy as a special favour not to mention this matter to her. So I daresay you'll feel in honour bound not to speak of it."

"H'm; I don't know as my honour binds me very strongly in that direction."

"But it MUST, Bill!" and Daisy looked distinctly troubled. "I oughtn't to have told you, for Patty trusted me not to tell anybody."

"Patty ought to know better than to trust you at all!" and with this parting shaft, Bill walked away. On the veranda he met Guy Martin, who had called for a moment to discuss some Pageant plans with Mona. Guy was just leaving, and Bill walked by his side, down the path to the gate.

"Just a moment, Martin, please. As man to man, tell me if Patty Fairfield refused to take the part of the Spirit of the Sea?"

"Why, yes; she did," said Guy, looking perplexed. "It's a queer business and very unlike Patty. But she wrote me a note, saying she didn't want the part, and asking me not to mention the matter to her at all."

"She did? Thank you. Good-bye." And Bill returned to the house, apparently thinking deeply.