Patty Blossom

"I'll try not to," and then the subject of the earlier evening was not mentioned again.

The dance concluded, Farnsworth stood for a moment, still holding Patty's hand after their last sweeping curtsey, and he said, "Will you be my supper partner, too? Please do."

"I can't," and Patty laughed up at him. "I'm really engaged to Phil."

"Oh, are you, Patty?" cried Daisy, who was just passing, with Kit Cameron. "I said you'd announce it tonight! What fun! But why are you telling Big Bill all by himself first? You ought to tell all the crowd at once. I'll do it for you. Come on, Kit, let's spread the news! We've Patty's own word for it."

The two ran off, laughing, and Patty looked a bit dismayed. "Kit's such a scamp," she said, ruefully, "he'll tell that all over the room–"

"Isn't it true?"

"Would you care if it were?"

"I care for anything that concerns you or your happiness."

"Or any one else or any one else's happiness! Oh, I know you, Bill Farnsworth, you want everybody to be happy."

"Of course I do!" and the big man laughed, heartily. "Is that a crime?

But most of all I care to have one little foolish, petulant Blossom-girl happy."

"Well, then, why don't you make her so? Why aren't you kind and nice to her, instead of being horrid about her friends and her dancing, and acting like a great Lord of something-or-other, frowning on her innocent amusements!"

"Oh, Patty, what an arraignment! But never mind that. May I take you to the supper room?"

"Oh, here you are, Light of my eyes!" and Van Reypen came up and offered his arm.

With a smile of farewell to Farnsworth, Patty accepted Philip's escort and walked off.

"What's this report Cameron and Daisy Dow are spreading?" asked Van Reypen, looking at her, quizzically, but with a glance full of meaning. "They say you and I are to announce our engagement tonight. I'm so delighted to hear it, I can't see straight; but I want your corroboration of the rumour. Oh, Patty, darling girl, you do mean it, don't you?"

Philip had drawn her to one side, away from the crowd, and in a palm-screened alcove, he stood beside her, his handsome face glowing with eagerness, as he anticipated yet feared her reply.

"Nonsense, Phil. It happened that I told Bill Farnsworth I was engaged to you for supper, and Daisy overheard, and she and Kit tried to tease me, that's all."

"But since it happened that way,—since the report is current,—don't you think,—doesn't it seem as if this would be an awfully good chance to make it a true report?"

"No, sir! A girl can't get engaged all in a minute, and en route to a supper room, at that! Besides, I'm hungry."

"You can't put me off that way! You may think to be hungry interferes with romance. Not a bit of it! You say you'll marry me, and I'll get you all the supper you want, and, incidentally, eat a good square meal myself. There!"

Van Reypen had great charm. His great dark eyes were fixed on Patty, and in their depths she could read his big, true love, unembarrassed by the place or the occasion. He knew only that he was pleading with the girl he loved, suing for his life's happiness, a happiness that lay in the little rosy palm of Patty Fairfield's hand.

"Darling," he whispered, taking the little hand in both his own, "Patty, darling, do say yes, at last. Don't keep me in suspense. Don't bother about learning to love me, and all that. Just come to me,—tell me you will,—and I know you'll love me. You can't help it, dear, when I love you so. Why, Patty, I've got to have you! You don't know how I want you. You've so twined yourself into my heart that you seem part of me already. Dear, dear little girl, my love, my sweetheart–"

Philip's arm went round Patty's shoulder, and he drew her to him.

"Phil!" cried Patty, starting back. "Don't, please don't."

"I won't, dear,—I won't call you mine until you say I may,—but, oh, Patty!"

His voice was so full of deep feeling, his eves pleaded so longingly for her consent, that Patty's heart went out to him. She was sorry for him, and she honestly longed to say the word that would give him joy and gladness forever. But that very feeling taught her the truth about herself. She knew, in one sudden, illuminating flash, that she didn't and couldn't love Philip Van Reypen in the way she was sure she wanted to love and would love the man she should marry.

Nor could she speak lightly or carelessly to him now. It was a crisis. A good, true man had offered her his love and his life. It was not a slight thing to be tossed aside as a trifle. If she accepted it, well; but if not, she must tell him so kindly, and must tell him why. And Patty didn't know why. In fact, she wasn't sure she didn't want Phil, after all. He was very big-hearted,—very splendid.

"What are you thinking of, girlie?" he asked, gently, as he watched the changing expressions on her face.

"I'm trying to be honest with myself, Phil. I'm trying to think out why it is that I don't say yes to you at once. I suppose you think me heartless and cold to think it out like this, but, I'm in earnest–"

"So am I, dear, very much in earnest. And, I think, my own Heart's Dearest, that you're nearer to loving me now than you've ever been. Nearer saying yes than ever before. And, so, I'm not going to let you answer now. This isn't the time or place. Somebody may come looking for us at any moment. You have given me hope, Patty—unconsciously, you've given me hope for the first time. I'll be satisfied with that, for now. And, I'll see you soon, in your own home, to hear the rest from your own lips. Oh, Patty, how can I wait? I can't! Say yes, now,—say it, Patty!"

"No, Phil," and Patty gave him a lovely smile, while her blue eyes shone like stars; "no, you were right, before. Not here—not now. Come, let us join the others,—and you come to see me at home—soon."

"Your own sweet way is mine, Patty," and Van Reypen kissed the trembling little hand he held. "Now, brace up, dear; remember, they'll all be watching us, even chaffing us. Can you meet them?"

"Yes," and Patty assumed her old mischievous smile. "Carry things off with a high hand, Phil. That's the way to meet them."

Together they sauntered to the supper room, and, as they had expected, were met by a storm of chaff.

"Where have you two been? 'Fess up, now!"

"Flirting," replied Van Reypen, coolly. "Haven't we, Patty?"

"Yes, if you call such a mild affair worthy of the name," and Patty's nonchalant air and unembarrassed manner gave no further inducement for teasing.

"Let's sit here," Phil went on, selecting seats at a small table, with some casual friends, and then his resources of conversation and Patty's gay chatter did away with all chance for personal allusions.

CHAPTER XVI

A STOLEN POEM

After supper there was dancing, and Patty was besieged by would-be partners. Good-naturedly she fractioned her dances, and even divided the short intermissions between them. Everybody wanted to dance with the smiling little person in red velvet, and her pretty gaiety salved the wounds of those whom she was obliged to refuse.

At last, Farnsworth came to her, and his determined expression told Patty he was about to lay down the law.

Sure enough, he took her hand in his, drew it through his arm, and led her out of the dancing room.

"Without even a 'by your leave?'" and Patty looked up at him, inquiringly.

"Without it or with it. But you can't dance any more tonight. You're so tired you can scarcely stand up now."

"That's so, now that you speak of it. But I hadn't realised it."

"Of course you hadn't. You're crazy, when it comes to dancing!"

"Well, you're not. You haven't danced with me once tonight, except that old country dance."

"Did you want me to? Were you lacking for partners?"