Patty's Butterfly Days

"And a hot compress on my chin, and two lukewarm ones on my ears," teased Patty, laughing at the solicitous tones of the older lady. "No, sir-ee! I'll catch a nap or two, and tomorrow I'll be as right as a—as a—what's that thing that's so awfully right?"

"A trivet," said Mona.

"Yes, a trivet. I've no idea what it is, but I'll be one!"

There was a light supper set out in the dining-room at "Red Chimneys," but no one wanted any, so good-nights were said almost immediately and the wearied revellers sought their rooms.

"No kimono parties to-night, girls," said Patty, firmly. "I'm going straight to bed."

"All right," agreed Mona and Daisy, "we'll save our gossip till morning."

But Patty didn't go straight to bed. She flashed on the lights in her rose-coloured boudoir, drew the curtains of the bay window, and then threw herself into a big easy-chair. She was thinking of Mr. William Farnsworth. She wished he hadn't said what he had. It worried her, somehow. And when he said good-night just now, he had a look in his eyes that meant,—well, perhaps it didn't mean anything after all. Perhaps he was only flirting,—as Patty herself was. But was she? She had just asked herself this question, really seriously, when a rose came flying in at the window and fell at her feet. She looked up quickly,—she was SURE she had drawn the curtains. Yes, she had done so, but there was just a little space between them, where they didn't quite join.

Well, it must have been a good marksman who could throw so accurately! Westerners were accounted good marksmen,—it MIGHT be—

And then a second rose followed the first, and others, at intervals, until a good-sized heap lay at Patty's feet.

Laughing in spite of herself, she went to the window, and peeped out between the curtains.

"Why, it's you!" she exclaimed, as if she hadn't known it all the time.

"Yes," and Big Bill smiled at her over the armful of roses he still held. "I've completely stripped the rose garden, but I had to bombard you with something!"

"Are you a bombardier?"

"No, I'm a beggar. I'm begging you to come out here for a few minutes and see the moonlight on the ocean."

"Why, there isn't any moon!"

"That's so! I mean the sun."

"Well, the sun isn't QUITE up yet!"

"That's so! Well, I mean the—the stars,—there, I knew SOMETHING was shining!"

Bill's laugh was so infectious that Patty couldn't help joining it, but she said:

"I can't, Little Billee. It's too late, and I'm too tired, and—"

"But I'm going away to-morrow."

"You are! I didn't know."

"Do you CARE? Oh, Patty, come out for a minute, I want to tell you something."

Still in her green draperies and silver wreath, Patty stepped out on the veranda, saying, "Just for a tiny minute, then."

Bill had discarded his Neptune trappings, and in evening dress, was his handsome self again.

"You were fine as Neptune," said Patty, looking at him critically as he stood against a veranda pillar, "but you're better as a plain man."

"Thank you!" said Bill, ironically.

"Fishing! Well, I DIDN'T mean that you're plain, but,—I won't say what I did mean."

"Oh, dear! Another fond hope shattered! I WISH I knew what you DID mean!"

"Don't be silly, or I'll run back. If you'll promise not to be silly, I'll stay another minute."

"But, you see, I never know when I am silly."

"Almost always! Now let's talk about the Pageant. Didn't Daisy look pretty?"

"Yes. But I fancy blondes myself."

"Now that's ambiguous. I don't know whether you mean because you're one or because I'm one."

"Why! So you ARE a blonde, aren't you? I never noticed it before!"

"Really? How nice! I've always wondered how I'd strike an entire stranger!"

"Why strike him at all?"

"Now you're silly again! But I mean, I'd like to know what an utter stranger would think of me."

"I hate to be called an utter stranger, but I haven't the least objection to saying what I think of you. In fact, I'd like to! May I?"

"Is it nice?" asked Patty, frightened a little at Bill's quiet tones.

"Judge for yourself. I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,—and the most fascinating. I think you have the sweetest nature and disposition imaginable. I think you have just enough perversity to give you the Zip you need."

"What is Zip?"

"Never mind; don't interrupt. I think you are the most adorable fluff of femininity in the world,—and I KNOW I love you, and I want you for all my very own. Patty,—DARLING,—tell me now what you think of ME."

"Oh, Bill, DON'T say such things to me,—PLEASE, don't!" And Patty's overstrung nerves gave way, and she began to cry.

"I won't, dear,—I won't, if it bothers you," and Big Bill's arm went round her in such a comforting way that Patty wept on his broad shoulder.

"Don't,—don't think me a silly," she said, smiling up at him through her tears, "but—I'm so tired, and sleepy,—if you could just wait till morning,—I'd tell you then what I think of you."

"Very well, dear, I'll wait."

"No, you needn't, I'll tell you now," and Patty suddenly drew away from Bill's arm and faced him bravely. "I'm a coward,—that's what I am! And I cried because,—because I can't say what you want me to, and—and I HATE to hurt your feelings,—because I LIKE you so much."

"Patty! do you KNOW what you're talking about?"

"Yes, I do! But I can't seem to say it out plain, without hurting your nice, big, kind heart."