  “Hello! Patty Popinjay! Where are you?” As a matter of fact, Patty was curled up in a big armchair near the library fire, waiting for that very voice. “Here I am!” she cried in return and jumped up to be grabbed in the arms of a handsome, jolly-looking girl who came flying into the room. “Oh, Bumble, I’m so glad to see you!” The newcomer laughed. “Bumble!” she exclaimed; “I haven’t heard that name for years. Let me look at you, Patty. My! you’re prettier than ever! Well, I just had to come. I couldn’t resist, when I heard of your engagement. Where’s the man? Show him to me at once!” “Oh, he isn’t here, for the moment. But you’ll see him soon. I’m only afraid you’ll cut me out. Why, Bumble,—Helen, I mean, you’re utterly changed from the little girl I remember.” “Of course I am—in appearance,—but no other way.” “Are you still the happy-go-lucky, hit-or-miss little rascal you used to be?” “Of course I am. Oh, Patty, doesn’t it seem long ago that you spent that summer with us? And to think I’ve scarcely seen you since! Not since Nan’s wedding, anyway.” “No; and you only in Philadelphia! It’s ridiculous. But, I’ve tried to get you over here time and again.” “I know it. But I went out West to Stanford, and I was there so long, I almost lost track of all my Eastern people. Your Best Beloved is Western, isn’t he? Oh, Patty, tell me all,—everything about him.” “All in good time, Helen, honey. For now, I’ll just say that he’s the dearest and best man in the whole world, and that you’ll agree to that when you see him. Now, come up to your room, and fix yourself up. You look as if you’d been through a whirlwind!” “I always look like that,” and Helen Barlow laughed. She was Patty’s cousin, and had come to New York for a visit. She had often been invited and several times had planned to come, but something had prevented her, and as the Barlow family were of a most undependable sort in the matter of keeping engagements or appointments, it surprised nobody that Helen had not carried out her plans. Indeed the surprise was that she was really here at last, and Patty stared at her hard to reassure herself that her guest had positively appeared. Helen Barlow was a pretty girl, about Patty’s own age. Her soft brown hair was curled round her ears, in the prevailing mode, but it showed various wisps out of place, and needed certain pats and adjustments before a mirror. Her hat, a brown velvet toque, was a little askew,—even more so than she meant it to be,—and the long fur stole, over her arm, dragged on the floor. Without being positively unkempt, Helen was untidy, and Patty well remembered that as a child she had been far more so. The two girls went up to the room prepared for Helen, and soon her outer garments went flying. The hat was tossed on the bed, upside down; the stole slipped to the floor as the long cloth coat was wrenched open and one button pulled off by an impatient twitch. “Never mind,” Helen said, “that old button was loose, anyway. Oh, Patty, how trim and tidy you look!” It was second nature to Patty to be well groomed, and she would have been sadly uncomfortable with a button missing or a ribbon awry, unless intentionally so. For Patty was no prim young person, but she was by no means untidy. She laughed at her cousin’s impetuous ways, and picked up the scattered garments, as fast as Helen flung them down. “Don’t you have a maid, Patty? I supposed of course you did.” “Oh, we have Jane. She maids Nan and me both, when we want her. But she does a lot of other things, too. We don’t have as many servants as we used to. Patriotism has struck this house, you know, and we’ve cut out more or less of the luxuries.” “Good for you! I’m patriotic, too. Do you knit?” “Of course; who doesn’t? Now, Bumble,—oh, yes, I’m going to call you by the old name if I want to,—do try to make yourself look tidy! Take down your hair and do it over. Your hair is lovely,—if you’d take a little more pains with it.” “To be sure! Anything to please!” and Helen shook down her short curly mop. “Let me see his picture,” she demanded as she brushed vigorously away. “Quick! quick! I can’t wait a minute!” Patty ran out of the room, laughing, and returned with a photograph of Farnsworth. “Stunning!” cried Helen, “he’s simply great! Wherever did you catch him? Are there any more at home like him? ’Deed I will steal him away from you, if I possibly can. Oh, Patty, do you remember Chester Wilde? Well, he wants me to marry him, but I can’t see it! That’s one reason I ran away from home, to escape his persistence.” “I do believe you’re a belle, Bumble! You’re fascinating, I see. Mercy goodness, you’ll cut poor little me out with everybody!” “As if you cared! Now that you’re wooed and won!” “Of course I don’t care. You can have all the others,—and there are plenty,—only, so many of them are going or gone to war.” “I know, all my best ones have, too. But you couldn’t like a man who doesn’t want to fight!” “I should say nixy!” “What’s your Bill do? Is he in camp?” “Oh, no. You know, he’s an expert mining engineer, and he’s used,—I mean, his services are used by the government. I can’t tell you all about it, because I don’t know all myself; and what I do know, I’m not allowed to tell, in detail. So don’t ask, Helen; just know my little Billee is doing his full duty,—and then some!” “Little! Is he little? He doesn’t look so, from this picture.” The photograph showed only the head and shoulders of Farnsworth, but it hinted a large man. However, Patty said, just for fun: “You can’t tell from that. But I don’t mind how little he is,—he’s all the world to me!” She looked a trifle embarrassed, so, thinking Farnsworth must be decidedly undersized, Helen dropped the subject. Her trunk had arrived, and Jane appeared, to assist in unpacking. “Get out a pretty frock,” Patty directed her guest, “and I’ll help you get into it, and then we’ll go down and see Nan, she’ll soon be home.” “Where is she?” “Chasing some committee, as usual. We’ve both lost our individuality now, and we’re merged in committees. I’m a member of quite a number, but Nan belongs to more than I do. Here, Helen, put on this bluet, Georgette, satinet thing.” “Rather dressy?” “Not too much so. It’s nearly tea time, and people often drop in and I want you to make a good impression. And for gracious’ sake, do your hair more carefully than that! Here, let me do it,—or Jane.” “All right,” and Helen dropped into a chair before the toilette table, while the deft and willing Jane quickly twisted up the brown locks. “Now you’ll do,” said Patty, after a final critical examination. “Oh, wait, this sash end is loose.” “I know, the snapper’s off. Never mind.” “But I do mind! Helen Barlow, you’re as bumbly as ever! We used to call you that because you were as heedless and careless as a bumblebee——” “There was another reason,” Helen laughed. “Yes, because you were so fat! You’ve pretty nearly gotten over that.” “Thank you, lady, for dem kind woids! A little guarded, aren’t you? Know then, that my sole end, aim and ambition is to get thin, really thin,—slim, slender, willowy,—merely a slip of a girl——” “You haven’t quite achieved all that!” and Patty laughed. “But if you’re trying to, I’ll help you. No sweets, you know.” “Gracious, Patty, I haven’t tasted candy for two years! And as a sugar conserver, I’m right there! Not a lump of it comes my way!” “Good for you! Then, with exercise, and not too much sleep, we’ll soon get you into condition!” The girls went down stairs, and found Nan already there. “My dear old Bumble!” she cried; “no, no Helen for me! I knew you too long by the old name to change.” “But, Nan, I don’t like it! Please don’t. Such a horrid name!” “All right, then. I’ll try to say Helen, but if the other slips out sometimes, you must forgive me. Now, how’s everybody? Bob all right?” “Fine! In camp, of course, but he gets home occasionally, or we go to see him. Dad and Mother sent all sorts of messages and greetings,—and hoped I won’t make you too much trouble—as if I could!” “Indeed you can’t!” cried Nan, warmly. “We’re just awfully glad to see you, and you must stay just as long as you possibly can. Has Patty been telling you of her latest escapade?” “She wrote me of it,—that’s mostly why I came. I thought the sight of the flirtatious, coquettish, altogether frivolous and fickle Patty Fairfield tied down to one man, would be worth seeing!” “Huh!” remarked Patty, “when you see the man, you’ll not wonder! Anybody would be glad to be tied to him.” “I’m going to cut Patty out, you know, Nan,” Helen declared, “but it’s more likely she’ll throw him over and fly to some newer flame,——” “Oh, very likely,” Patty mocked, her eyes dancing, “oh, ve-ry like-ly! When I throw him over, Bumble, you have my full permission to pick him up. But until then,—hands off my property!” The tea things appeared then, and Patty did the honours, remarking, “Yes, we do have tea, ’most every day, and we have sugar in it,—but we skimp it some and we don’t have really rich cakes.” “I’m glad to get it,” and Helen accepted her cup. “I forgot to get any luncheon, and I’ll just make up for it now.” Whereupon she proceeded to devour cakes and biscuits, until Patty silently despaired of ever helping her in a quest for slimness! But Patty looked at her cousin affectionately. Helen was so jolly and gay-looking, so wholesome and smiling, and so sincerely glad to be with them, that she made herself thoroughly welcome. Her dark eyes were beaming with good nature, her round, plump face was alight with good will and her laughter bubbled forth like a child’s. She put her little fat hand up to her lips. “Honest, I’m trying not to giggle so much,” she said, “but I just can’t help it! When I’m happy, I have to chuckle, and that’s all about it.” “Giggle all you like, my dear,” said Nan, “I’m glad to hear it. There’s so much sadness in the world, that a truly merry laugh like yours is infectious and does us all good. Now, make yourself at home, Helen, and don’t mind it if I seem to neglect you. I’m not really going to do that, but I do have an awful lot to see to,——” “Oh, I know, Nan. And Patty has, too. But I’ll be a help, not a nuisance,—you see if I’m not. Why, Patty Fairfield! you said he was little!” The original of the photograph she had seen, strode into the room and when Helen saw big Bill Farnsworth, she knew Patty had chaffed her. Farnsworth went to Patty and grasped both her hands in his. “All right?” he said, looking deep into her blue eyes. “All right,” Patty returned, with an answering gaze, and so true was the sympathy between them, that a sort of telepathic message was exchanged and further words were unnecessary. Then Farnsworth turned to greet Nan, and to be presented to Miss Helen Barlow. “She told me you were little!” Helen exclaimed, looking at the broad-shouldered giant who faced her. “Not quite that, I think,” Bill smiled at her, “Patty probably called me Little Billee, which is her pet name for her lord and master!” “Future lord and master!” corrected Patty, “not yet, not yet, my child!” “‘Serene I fold my hands, and wait,’” Farnsworth quoted, with undisturbed equanimity. “I’m very glad you’ve come, Miss Barlow. Perhaps you can entertain Patty and keep her from getting too impatient at the time that must elapse before I can take her for keeps.” “Vanity Box!” exclaimed Patty. “Me impatient, indeed! Just for that, Little Billee, I’ll put the date six months later.” “Later than what? I didn’t know you’d decided on the date for the festal occasion. You told me last night you hadn’t.” “I’m living up to the reputation for fickleness Helen has just wished on me,” Patty laughed. “But I’ll give you some tea, Billee mine, if you’d like it. Oh, what a lot of people! You make the tea, Nan!” Patty left the table to welcome her new guests. Elise Farrington and Daisy Dow were followed by Chick Channing and Philip Van Reypen. After introductions and greetings all round, Helen looked about her with an air of great satisfaction. “This is as I thought it would be,” she said, contentedly; “I do love afternoon tea, and we never have it at home. And I love people dropping in to it.” “Into the tea?” asked Channing. “Yes, in to the tea, of course. And such lovely people! I want to know you all at once, but I suppose I’d make better headway by taking you one at a time.” “Take me first,” begged Chick, who was much attracted by the sprightly newcomer. “No, me,” laughed Philip. “You can get acquainted with me in two minutes,—I’m the easiest of us all.” “Then I’ll leave you till the last,” smiled Helen. “After all, I believe I’ll talk to the girls first. I want them to like me——” “Oh, don’t you care about the boys liking you?” said Patty. “They will, anyhow,” Helen retorted, and she sat down by Daisy and Elise, ignoring all the others. “Tea, please,” said Philip, sauntering over to Patty, who had returned to the tea-table. “One lump or two?” she asked, holding the sugar tongs. “One and a smile,” he replied. Gravely, Patty dropped one lump in his cup, equally gravely, she gave him an idiotic smile, that was merely a momentary widening of her mouth. “Very pretty,” commented Phil; “don’t see how you manage such a sweet smile! The tea is ’most too sweet, I think. Give me another bit of lemon.” “Here you are,” said Patty, spearing the lemon with a little fork. “Now, Philip, listen to me. I want you to do all you can to make it pleasant for Bumble,—I mean, Helen, while she’s here.” “Of course I will. I’m always nice to your friends, you know that.” “I do know it, but I want you to be specially nice.” “All right. Say, flowers tonight,—candy tomorrow,—opera invitation as soon as I can manage it,—a theatre party,——” “There, there, now don’t overdo it! No; she doesn’t eat candy, but you may send some flowers.” “Some to you too.” “No; not to me——” “Then not to her.” “Oh, Phil, you said you’d be nice!” “Well, I will; to both of you. But not to Bumble—I mean, Helen, alone.” “But you mustn’t send flowers to me, now that I’m engaged. Come here a minute, please, Little Billee.” “Yours to command,” said Farnsworth, approaching. “Tell Philip he can’t send me flowers.” “Philip, you can’t send Patty flowers,” Farnsworth said, obediently. There was a smile on his face, but in his voice there rang a note of command that angered Van Reypen exceedingly. “I can send them,” he returned, defiantly, “she needn’t accept them.” “Leave it that way, then,” Bill said, carelessly, as if the matter were of no moment. “Patty, come out to the dining-room a minute, will you, dear?” Jumping up, Patty left the room without a glance at Philip. Farnsworth followed her, and they went into the dining-room. They were alone there, and he took her gently in his arms. “What is it, Patty?” he asked. “Van Reypen been kicking over the traces?” “Yes; he seems to think he—he likes me yet.” “Of course he does. How can he help it? But, my darling, there’s to be no petty jealousy between us and him. I trust you, dear, too well, to think for a minute that you’d listen to him if he says things that you don’t want to hear. Now, never think it will bother me, for it won’t. You love me, don’t you, Patty?” “Yes,” she returned, and the blue eyes that met his left no room for doubt. “Then, that’s all right. Don’t give him a thought. Darling, I’ve brought your ring.” With a smile of pleasure, Farnsworth produced a lovely ring. It was set with a single pearl, which he had told Patty suited her far better than a diamond. “Do you like it?” he asked eagerly. “Oh, Patty Blossom, do you?” “I think it the most beautiful ring I ever saw!” she replied, her eyes glistening, as he slipped it on her finger. “My pearl,” he whispered, close to her ear, “my Patty Pearl. This seals our betrothal, and makes you mine forever.” “Am I any more yours than I was before I had it?” “No, you little goose! But this is the bond,—the sign manual——” “Oh, Little Billee! what a joke! But I accept my bond,—I glory in it! Oh, Billee, what a beauty pearl it is!” “The purest and best I could find,—for my own Patty Blossom. Now, I’ve bad news, darling.” “Bad news soon told, Br’er Fox,” smiled Patty, quoting from her well-beloved Uncle Remus. “What is it?” |
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