Patty Blossom

"Yes, dear, it is. Now rest quietly, and I'll keep everybody away, until you feel like seeing them."

But Patty was keyed up with the excitement of the occasion and unwilling to rest for very long. So, with Alla's help, she was soon rearrayed in her red velvet and ready to return to the Studio.

"I'm ashamed of myself," she said to Alla, "but I'm so vain, I really want to go out there and hear people tell me that I did well!"

"That isn't vanity," Alla returned. "That's proper pride. If any one can do a thing as well as you did that dance, it would be idiocy not to enjoy hearing appreciative praise."

"Do you think so?" and Patty looked relieved; "I don't want to be conceited, but I'm glad if I did well."

"Wait till you hear what Sam says! He's wild about you, anyway, and after that dance he'll be crazier over you than ever."

Patty smiled, happily, and with a final adjustment of her freshly done-up hair, she declared herself ready to return to the party.

As hers had been the last number on the program, she was not surprised to find the audience standing about in groups, or picturesquely posed on divans, and her appearance was the signal for a new hubbub of excitement.

But before she could hear a definite word from any one, a tall, powerful figure came striding up to her, and big Bill Farnsworth's unsmiling blue eyes looked straight into her own merry ones.

Her merriment died away before the sternness of his expression.

"Get your wraps, Patty," he said, in low but distinct tones. "At once."

"What for?" and Patty stared at him in amazement. "What has happened?"

But she had no fear that any untoward accident had befallen, for Farnsworth showed no sympathy or gentleness in his face, merely a determined authority.

"Go at once," Farnsworth repeated, "and get your cloak."

"I won't do it," she replied, giving him an angry glance. "I don't want to go home; why should I get my cloak?"

"Then I'll take you without it," and picking her up in his arms, Big Bill strode through the throng of people, with as little embarrassment as if he were walking along the street. Many turned to look at him with curiosity, some smiled, but the Cosmic souls rarely allowed themselves to be surprised at anything, however peculiar.

As they passed Sam Blaney, Patty noticed that he stood, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, and a strange expression on his face,—half defiant, half afraid.

Farnsworth carried Patty down the stairs and out of the house, and placed her with care, but a bit unceremoniously, in the tonneau of a waiting motor-car. He jumped in beside her, and pulled the lap robe over her. The car started at once, and was well under way by the time Patty found voice enough to express her indignation.

"You—perfectly—horrid—old—thing!" she gasped, almost crying from sheer surprise and anger.

"Yes?" he said, and she detected laughter in his tone, which made her angrier than ever.

"I hate you!" she burst forth.

"Do you, dear?" and Farnsworth rearranged the rug to protect her more fully.

There was such gentleness in his touch, such tenderness in his voice, that Patty's anger melted to plain curiosity.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded. "Why did you bring me away in such—such caveman fashion?"

Farnsworth smiled. "It was a caveman performance, wasn't it? But you wouldn't come willingly."

"Of course I wouldn't! Why should I?"

"For three very good reasons." Farnsworth spoke, gravely. "First, you were in a place where you didn't belong. I couldn't let you remain there."

"It is not your business to say where I belong!"

"I wouldn't want any one I care for to be in that place."

"Not even Daisy Dow?"

"Certainly not Daisy."

"Oh, not Daisy—of all people! Oh, certainly not!"

"Next, you were doing what you ought not to do."

"What!"

"Yes, you were. You danced barefoot before those—those unspeakable fools!"

Patty felt uncomfortable. She hadn't herself exactly liked the idea of that barefoot dance, and hadn't told any one she was going to do it. She had insisted to Mr. Grantham that she preferred to wear sandals. But he had talked so beautifully of the naturalness of the whole conception, the exquisite appropriateness of unshod feet, and the necessity of her carrying out his design as a whole, that she had yielded.

And now that Bill Farnsworth spoke of it in this rude way, it seemed to divest the dance of all its aesthetic beauty, and make of it a horrid, silly performance.

She tried to speak, tried to reply in indignant or angry vein, but she couldn't articulate at all. A lump came into her throat, big tears formed in her eyes, and a sob that she tried in vain to suppress shook her whole body.

She felt Farnsworth's arm go protectingly round her. Not caressingly, but with an assurance of care and assumption of responsibility.

Then, he pulled off the glove from his other hand with his teeth, and after a dive into a pocket, produced and shook out a big, white, comforting square of soft linen, and Patty gratefully buried her face in it.

CHAPTER XV

THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

"Much obliged, Billee," Patty said, at last, as she handed back a somewhat damp handkerchief, and Farnsworth stuffed it in his pocket. "Where are you taking me?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Back where you brought me from, please."

"Well, you can't go there. Will you go home, or to the Farringtons'?"

A quick side glance at the stern face beside her showed Patty that there was no chance of her going back to the Blaneys', so she said, with great dignity, "I'll go to Elise's, then. But I want you to understand that I resent your treatment, that I detest you for using your strength to interfere with my pleasure, and that I absolutely sever all friendship or acquaintance with you, now and forever!"

"Bad as that? Well, well, you must be annoyed."

"Annoyed! annoyed! why, I–"

"There now, Posy Face, quiet down a bit, we're almost at the house. You don't want to go in looking like a—a weeping willow! You'll spoil the effect of that red frock, if your eyes are red, too, and your cheeks all tear-stained. Here, have a fresh handkerchief."