  “Well,” said Helen Barlow, dashing into Patty’s room one morning, “I am certainly having the time of my sweet young life! They may say what they like about the horrors of war, and there are plenty of them, and nobody knows that better than I do, and nobody does more to help our side than you do, but all the same, my fairy-fair cousin, I do get a lot of pleasant parties and happy hours out of it all.” “Why, Bumble-Bee, what’s up now?” “Look at all these letters in my morning’s mail! And nearly every one an invitation to a gathering of some sort, connected with Our Boys. Dinners and evening parties and little dances, all for the Khaki and the Blue! Red Cross Benefits, private charities and any number of War Relief meetings! Don’t think I’m a heartless wretch, Patsy, but I do love the everlasting gadding about, and meeting people and being in the excitement of it all!” “Good for you, Bumble,” said Nan, coming in, “having heard your views, I’ll invite you to help me with a small and early bazaar I’m arranging for a Valentine fÊte.” “Of course I’ll do all I can, Nan. Tell me more. When is it to be?” “On the twelfth; we want to sell valentines to send to the soldiers in camp, and incidentally, have a good time, and, moreover, make a little money for my committee.” “Where you going to have it?” asked Patty, looking up from her desk, where she was writing letters. “Why, here,” said Nan. “You needn’t do much, Pattikins, you’ve so many irons in the fire; Bumble and I will run this show.” “Good for you! I have about all I can manage on a paltry twenty-four hours a day. But I’ll buy a valentine of you to send to my own particular Soldier Boy. Oh, Nan, isn’t he the dearest thing! Just look at this new picture of him! Did anybody ever look so well in a uniform?” “He is sure great!” exclaimed Bumble, taking the picture; “I don’t wonder you rave over him, Patty.” “Nor I,” Nan agreed. “He’s so big, yet so well-proportioned that he doesn’t look too big.” “Oh, thank you, Nan! I dunno what I’d do if he were too big!” Patty showed mock alarm at the thought. “You see, the bigger he is the smaller I seem, but I’m trying to emulate Bumble, and get a little more weighty. It’s hard, though, with the food conservation to be looked after, and the sweetless days here and there——” “You don’t have any sweetless days, if you read those long letters you get,” put in Helen. “And pray, how do you know as to their sweetness?” “Oh, I’m a mind reader, and when I see you peruse a letter, and fairly lap it up, like a cat, and then sit looking like the cat who ate the canary, I don’t have to be a detective to deduce that the letter was a sweet one!” “Good for you, Bumble! You guessed right the very first time! My Captain’s letters are sweet, and so is he!” “Sounds like a valentine! And he’s in love and so is she!” “We are,” said Patty, complacently. “And that’s no secret. As to valentines, pick me out the prettiest and the wittiest and the one that reads best, and save it for me, when you two busy bees have this festa,—or whatever you call it.” “That’s so! What shall we call it?” and Helen turned to Nan. “Ought to begin with a V. Valentine Valley? Valentine Villa?” “Not very good,” Nan considered. “How’s Valentine Verses?” “All valentines have verses. Help us out, Patty. Do that much for the cause. Give us a name for our Sale.” “Valentine Vendue,” said Patty, without looking up from her writing. Though apparently absorbed in her own affairs she had heard all they said. “A vendue is an auction,” objected Nan. “Oh, well, it means a sale,” Patty defended, “and too, of course, you’ll auction off the left-overs, they always do at a sale.” “We might have it all an auction,——” began Nan. “All right, do,” returned Patty, “but run away, kiddies, and make your plans somewhere else, won’t you? Miss Fairfield is busy.” “Come on, Bumble, we’ll go off and flock by ourselves. And we’ll plan such a bee-yutiful party that we’ll sell enough valentines for the whole National Army.” “Do they want valentines?” asked Helen as she went off with Nan. “That doesn’t matter, my dear. The thing is for us to sell the valentines, and get the money for the committee; and then, if the sweet missives are never sent, it won’t matter. But, yes, I think the boys in camp would be jolly glad to get nice loving valentine verses. They needn’t know who sends them, of course.” “I shall put my name on all I send. I’d like to get a letter back.” “Your mail is full of such letters already! You’re a camp belle, Bumble,—you certainly are!” “I might make a joke about the camp belles are coming!” laughed Helen, “but I’d scorn to do it!” “Then don’t. Come on, now, and let’s make lists and all that.” The night of February twelfth found the Fairfield house bedecked for the Valentine Vendue. Palms and flowers and hearts and darts and ribbon streamers and true-love knots were everywhere. Patty had helped both with advice and with actual work and the result was bewilderingly beautiful. Not only the regulation valentines of lace paper and rhymed lines were for sale, but also small and appropriate gifts, in decorated boxes, fancy bonbonnieres, pots and baskets of flowers and flowering plants, and even jewelled trinkets and curios. For these things had been donated for the cause, and the venders hoped the men would buy them for their sweethearts. Also there were valentines for the soldiers, and boxes of tobacco and cigarettes, containing sentimental missives. Nan’s committee was a large one, and all had worked diligently until the result was even more gratifying than they had hoped. Patty and Helen wore effective and appropriate costumes for they loved to “dress up,” and this was too good a chance to be lost. Their short frocks were of white tarlatan, edged with lace, and much befrilled. Garlands of tiny rosebuds decked the skirts, and the bodices were trimmed with blue ribbons and gilt paper hearts. Toy Cupids perched on their shoulders, and love-knots of blue decked their hair. “Do you expect Lieutenant Herron?” Helen asked, as they awaited the guests. “Rather!” returned Patty, “considering he’s always about wherever you are.” “Me! It’s you he hovers over! Don’t be coy,—you don’t fool your little Bumble-bee!” “Don’t you be a silly!” laughed Patty; “I’ve no use for the Herron person. If he’s here tonight, I’ll take it as a favour if you’ll charm him away from my haunts.” “Can’t do it,” and Helen shrugged her shoulders. “He won’t be charmed. Moreover, I’ve a lot of my own particular friends coming, and I’ll have my hands full to entertain them.” “Nan was right when she called you a camp belle. You’re looking sweet tonight, Bumble, and I s’pect some man will buy you for a valentine. Is Chester coming?” “I s’pose so. Wish he wasn’t! He’s such a burr.” “Yes, he does stick to you. I’ll take him for a while, and give you some rest. I like Mr. Wilde a whole lot.” The guests began to arrive, and soon the rooms were really crowded. The valentines sold quickly, for those who did not want them bought “for the good of the cause.” Lieutenant Herron came early, and as Bumble had predicted, he attached himself to Patty’s train of followers. “Such a clutter of men about you!” he exclaimed, as he sought her side, edging his way through a group of valentine buyers. “I say, Miss Fairfield, let some one else sell these people for a while, and you come and have an ice with me, won’t you?” “I’m not selling the people!” cried Patty, smiling, “I’m selling valentines.” “All the same. But you need a rest. Come along, and take it, and come back to your work refreshed.” Patty was tired, and so she asked some one else to take her place for a while, and sauntered off with Herron. They found a pleasant table in the supper room, and sat down together. “I saw your friend Van Reypen yesterday,” said Herron, after he had given their order. “Oh, you did? How is he?” “Fit as a fiddle, and learning to fly, like a young robin!” “I thought he’d be an apt pupil. Phil is clever at ’most anything.” “Yes, he is. And he takes to aviation like a duck to water. What do you hear from your other friend?” “My other friend! Have I then but one more?” Patty well knew Lieutenant Herron meant Little Billee, but she was always chary of talking about Farnsworth to anybody. “Only one that you care for; isn’t that so?” “Oh, no! I care for lots of people, and I care for all our soldiers! How can you think otherwise?” “Yes, in a sense. But only one you care for especially.” “Naturally. If you mean Captain Farnsworth, and I suppose you do,—most girls care especially for the men they are engaged to.” “Are you really engaged to him?” “Of course I am! Why do you ask?” “Oh, nothing.” “Your tone belies your words; what do you mean, Lieutenant?” Patty’s eyes gave an ominous flash that her friends all knew indicated serious indignation, but Herron answered lightly, “Oh, nothing, really. I only happened to hear from a friend, of Farnsworth’s infatuation for a little dark-eyed beauty down in Washington.” Patty looked at him, amusedly. “If you’re teasing me, your jest is in poor taste, Lieutenant Herron. If you’re in earnest, I refuse to listen to you.” “There, there, don’t get huffy! I didn’t mean to stir you up! I only heard rumours,—doubtless there’s nothing in them.” “Doubtless there isn’t,—and, also, doubtless it doesn’t concern you, if there is!” Patty was thoroughly angry at the man’s impertinence, but she did not want to do anything so conspicuous as to get up and leave the dining-room, where many small tables were occupied by a merry crowd of guests. “Not at all! not at all! yet, I can’t regret my words, since they have given me an opportunity of seeing you when you are ruffled! Prettier than ever! How blue eyes can flash!” Suddenly Patty felt a fear of this man. He did not seem to ring true. But her quick-wittedness made her realise that to continue angry, was to make him more amused and interested, so she changed her tactics. “Any girl’s eyes would flash at your insinuations,” she said, with a sudden bright smile. “But now I know you are chaffing, I don’t mind.” “And how do you know I’m chaffing?” “Because your own eyes twinkle so.” As a matter of fact, Herron’s eyes were snapping maliciously, but Patty ignored this, and deftly turned the subject. “When do you go back to the Aviation Field?” she inquired. “Tomorrow, alas! I had hoped for longer leave, but a new class is to be trained, and I must be on the job.” “I can’t help marvelling at the courage and bravery of an aviator. It seems to me that you take your life in your hands ever more desperately and dangerously than those actually at the front.” “In a sense, we do,” agreed Herron, a little gravely. “As the darky said, ‘If yuh gets killed on the ground, yuh knows where yuh is; but if yuh gets killed up in de air,—where is yuh?’” “And so many do get killed.” “Yes, but the proportion continually grows smaller, of course, as we learn more of the art.” “Do you call aviation an art?” “Yes, an Art with a big A! It’s a science as well, to be sure; it’s also a mechanical process and—it’s largely sheer luck!” “I’m glad Mr. Van Reypen is doing well. He has a cool head, you know.” “Yes, and that’s a great thing. A steady nerve, and mental poise come first in the requirements for a successful flyer. When are you to be married, Miss Fairfield?” “Good gracious! You take my breath away with your sudden questions. Incidentally, they are a bit rude. Do you ask about such personal matters in your home town?” Herron had the grace to blush. But he said, slowly, “I suppose I would, if I cared as much to know as I do in this case.” “Why?” “Why? You know why! You must know! Because I’m over head and ears in love with you, myself! Because, though it would add to my misery to know you’re to be married soon, yet it would be a blessed relief to know it would not be soon!” “I cannot see, Lieutenant Herron, that these matters concern you at all,” said Patty, icily, and then the look of pained reproach he gave her smote her heart. For Patty was a gentle soul, and rarely hurt the feelings of anybody. “I think I must ask you to drop this subject and never refer to it again.” But she spoke softly, and shook off her air of offended dignity. “Forgive me,” he murmured, “truly I didn’t mean to! But I couldn’t help it. You’re right, it’s none of my business, and I apologise. Come, I see you’re ready to leave here, let us go and buy a valentine, which you shall send to your betrothed, and then you’ll forgive me.” His tone was gay again, and glad that the tension of the situation was relieved, Patty went with him to the valentine tables. “Here’s a dandy!” remarked the pretty girl who was selling them. “New idea, too. Funny and yet clever! Want one?” Herron took the one offered, and smiled as he read its lines. “You wouldn’t dare send that to your fiance!” he said, laughingly. Carelessly, Patty glanced at it. It was a well-done little sketch of a lover and his lass, leaning over a rustic stile, in true valentine fashion. Cupids and turtle-doves hovered above, and hearts and darts formed a conventional margin. The lines read: “Our love is high as Heaven And wide as rolling sea; The vows cannot be riven That bind my love and me. But should our pledge be broken, Or should your love be dead, Send back this tender token And let us never wed.” “Good gracious!” laughed Patty, “what a woe-begone outlook for such a happy-looking pair! And I’m sure such a dismal foreboding could never come true for these rustic swains! They’re a real Strephon and Chloe couple!” “All the same, I see you don’t take my dare.” “What dare?” “I dare you to send that valentine to Captain Farnsworth.” “What! You think I hesitate, lest he return it to me!” The absurdity of this struck Patty as very funny, and she laughed outright. “Yes, I think so,” and Herron laughed, too. “How ridiculous you are! Why, I’d just as lief send that as not!” “Go ahead, and do it, then. Prove your words.” “Will you buy it for me, at a goodly price?” “Whatever the saleslady asks.” “All right. What’s the price, Maisie?” Greatly amused, the gay little sales-girl said, “Ten dollars, sir.” A little daunted, but true to his word, Herron paid the price, and took Patty to the library, where there was a desk made ready for any who desired to address and despatch their missives then and there. Patty wrote Farnsworth’s Washington address, and Herron held out his hand for the envelope. “I’ll mail it as I go home,” he said, and Patty gave it to him. The whole incident made little impression on her, for though she didn’t particularly admire the valentine, nor did she care for the so-called “poetry” on it, yet, at the same time, it meant an extra ten dollar bill in the coffers of the committee, and that was well worth while. Not much later, the Lieutenant said good night, for, as he stated, he had to leave for his duties early next morning. “And I’m sorry if I offended you, Miss Fairfield, and I hope you’ll forgive me,” he begged. “But,—well, my only excuse is, the temptation was too great, and the opportunity was mine, so I said more than I intended, and more than I ought.” “All right, Lieutenant, if you didn’t mean it, I forgive you.” “I don’t say I didn’t mean it,—for that wouldn’t be true; but I didn’t mean to tell you of it.” “Then,” and Patty spoke gravely, now, “never let any circumstance or opportunity tempt you to do it again.” “Then I mustn’t see you,” Herron said, in a low voice. “Very well, then don’t see me. It will be far better for both. Where is your sense of honour? of fairness? Another man’s fiancÉe is not to be thought of, save with respect and courtesy.” “I know it,” and the man looked miserably sad; “and I do mean to treat you with all respect and courtesy,—but, oh, Miss Fairfield, Patty,—let me call you that just once,—if you knew how broken up I am over it all!” “Then,” said Patty, firmly, though she was touched at the sight of his evident suffering, “then the only thing is for us not to meet again, at all. I’m sorry, Lieutenant Herron, for I like you, but these matters are often outside our own will, and so, I can see no way but for us to keep apart.” “May I not come to see you next time I’m in town?” “I think not,” said Patty, gently, and then she bade him a courteous but definite and final good night. |
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