CHAPTER XX

BETTER THAN ANYBODY ELSE

It was the next afternoon that Farnsworth called. He had not seen Patty since the day she was so very ill, but he had telephoned or called every day to inquire after her. Today he was allowed to see her, and as he entered the library, his face was radiant with sunny smiles.

Patty looked up, smiling too, and held out her hands in greeting. From the lace cap that crowned her hair, to the tips of her dainty slippers, she was all in white, and her pale face and waxen hands made her look so like an angel that big, strapping Bill held his breath as he looked at her.

“Are you really there?” he asked; “are you fastened to earth? I somehow feel afraid you’ll waft off into the ether, you look so ethereal.”

“No, indeed! I’m here to stay. I’ve a pretty strong liking for this old world and I’ve no desire to flee away just yet.”

“Good! It’s great to see you again,” and Farnsworth took a seat beside her. “I’m thinking you’ll be getting out of doors soon.”

“I hope so. But I’m having a beautiful time convalescing. Everybody is so good to me, and I’m showered with presents, as if I were—engaged!”

“And I hear that you are.” Bill looked at her steadily. “I’m told that you’re betrothed to Van Reypen, and I want to be among the first to wish you all the joy there is in the world.”

“Who told you?” and Patty looked startled.

“A little bird,” Farnsworth smiled at her gently. “I am very glad for you, dear. Philip is a big, strong-hearted chap, and he can give you all you want and deserve.”

“’Most anybody could do that,” said Patty, a little shortly, for it seemed to her that Farnsworth took the news of her engagement rather easily.

“No. I couldn’t. There are not many men like Van Reypen; rich, well-born, intellectual, and kind. Moreover, he has prestige and an acknowledged place in the best society; all of which goes to make up the atmosphere of life that best suits you,—you petted butterfly.”

Bill’s smile robbed the words of any effect of satire or reproof.

“Am I a feather-headed rattlepate?” and Patty treated the young man to her best and prettiest pout.

“Not entirely. But you like to have all about you in harmony and good taste. Nor are you to blame. You are born to the purple,—and all that that signifies.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I?” Farnsworth looked amazed. “No, Patty; I am what they call a self-made man. My people are plain people, and my childhood was one of rough experiences,—even hardships.”

“All the more credit to you, Little Billee, for turning out a polished gentleman.”

“But I’m not, dear. I’ve picked up enough of social customs not to make awkward mistakes, but I have not the innate breeding of the Van Reypens.”

Farnsworth was not looking at Patty, he was staring into vacancy, and looked as if he were talking more to himself than to her.

“Rubbish!” said Patty, gaily, annoyed at herself for feeling the truth of his words. “You’re a splendid old Bill, and whoever says a word against you is no friend of mine! So be careful, sir, what you say against yourself.”

“You’re a loyal little friend, Patty, and I’m more glad than you can realise to know that it is so. Now, you’re going to do all you can to grow stronger, aren’t you? It hurts me to see you so white and wan-looking. I wish I could give you some of my big strength,—I’ve more than I know what to do with.”

At this speech Patty blushed a rosy crimson, and Farnsworth’s remark about her wan looks lost its point.

“Why the apple blossoms in your cheeks, Little Girl?” and he smiled at her evident confusion.

“Would you give me of your strength, Bill,—if—if I were—were—dying——”

“Wouldn’t I! I’d snatch you back from old Charon, if you had one foot in his boat!”

Patty looked at him, with a queer uncertainty in her eyes. Twice she tried to say something, and couldn’t; and then Farnsworth said softly:

“As I did,—although I doubt if you knew it.”

“Did you, Billee? _Really?_ I thought it was a dream,—wasn’t it?”

“You mean—that day——”

“Yes.”

“No, Patty, it was not a dream. I chanced to come in, and when I asked about you, you must have heard my voice, for you called out to me——”

“And you came.”

“Yes. And you wanted some of my strength,—I gave it to you by putting you to sleep. That was what you needed most.”

“Was that the crisis, Bill?”

“They said so, dear. I am glad I could help.”

“You saved my life.”

“I’m not sure of that, but I wish I had, for you know there is a convention that gives saved lives to the savers.”

“Take it, then,” said Patty, impulsively.

Farnsworth gave her a long look. “I wouldn’t want it because you thought you _ought_ to give it to me.”

“Yet that is why I’m giving it to Philip.”

“He didn’t save your life!”

“No, I mean I’m giving it to him because I think I ought to.”

“What _do_ you mean?”

And then Patty told him the whole story of her promise to Mrs. Van Reypen, and her consequent enforced betrothal to Philip.

Farnsworth’s blue eyes opened wide. “And he takes you on those terms!”

“Oh, he doesn’t know about the promise. But what else can I do, Little Billee? I can’t break a promise made to a dying woman, and—too—I like Phil——”

“Like isn’t enough,” said Farnsworth, sternly. “Do you love him, Patty?”

“I—I guess so——” she stammered, a little frightened at his vehemence.

And at that very moment Philip Van Reypen appeared.

“Hello, Peaches,” he said gaily to Patty. “How do, Farnsworth? And how’s our interesting invalid today?”

“I’m fine,” returned Patty. “Getting better by the minute. ’Spect to go out coasting soon. Better get your sleds ready, we may have snow any day——”

Patty was babbling on to cover a certain constraint in the attitude of the two men. But almost immediately, Farnsworth took his leave, gently declining Patty’s plea to stay longer.

“Let him go,” said Philip, as the street door closed behind Bill; “I want to see you alone. See here, Patty, what’s this about a promise to Aunty Van?”

“Who told you?”

“Your father. Sent and asked me to come to his office, so I went, and he told me the whole story. You poor little girl! I’m _so_ sorry it happened, and I’ve come to ask you to forgive Aunty Van. She was all wrong to do such a thing, but honestly, she was actuated by right motives. She loved you so, and she loved me, and she was so sure we were made for each other. I’m sure of that, too,—but if you’re not, you’re to say so, and not think you’re bound by a promise to _anybody_.”

“But I did promise her——”

“Forget it! In your dealings with me, you’re to deal only with me. There’s no go-between or dictator or even adviser; only just our two selves. But before we begin on our affairs, I want this other matter settled for all time. Promise me that you will never again even think of that promise that she wrung from you. You _must_, or I can’t have loving memories of Aunty Van. Also, I want you to tell me truly, whether you want to look after the Children’s Home scheme or not. If it’s a burden, you’re not to have anything to do with it. See?”

“How kind you are, Phil. Yes, I do want to help with the Home project, but I don’t want to be at the head of the Board,—or whatever has charge of it. I want to tend to the furnishings and little comforty things for the kiddies, but can’t somebody else build it?”

“Of course they can! You dear Baby, do you think you’re to have all that on your poor little shoulders? It shall all be just as you say. And you are to do as much or as little as you like. Of course, you’re not even to think of it, till you’re all well and strong again. Now, as to your own bequest from Aunty Van. I can’t tell you how glad I am she left you a little pin-money——”

“A little pin-money!” exclaimed Patty, raising her eyes heavenward.

“Well, an enormous fortune,—if you like that better. But at any rate, it’s yours, to do as you please with. I don’t suppose you really need it, but——”

“I don’t need it for myself, Phil, but oh, I’m going to do such lovely things with it for my girls! I shall use it for their vacation trips and—that is, part of it. Part of it, I’m going to spend on myself—oh, I have the delightfullest plans!”

“All right, Pattykins, do what you will, as long as it pleases your own dear self. And now, we come to what interests me most. I decline to have you for my very own, if you consent _only_ because Aunty Van made you promise to do so. Cut that all out,—and let’s begin again. Will you promise me,—_me_, mind you,—not any one else _for_ me,—to learn to love me?”

And now Patty was her own roguish self again. The release from the bugbear promise was so great, that she considered gaily what Phil was asking now.

“Well,” she began, looking provokingly pretty, “suppose I say I’ll _try_ to learn to love you——”

“Oh, try—to endeavour—to attempt—to make a stab at it! But, all right, I’ll take that crumb of a promise. You’ll _try_ to learn to love me. Patty, _I’m_ going to be the teacher, and if you’ll try,—and you’ll have to, since you’ve promised,—by Jove, I’ll _make_ you learn!”

“Very well,” and Patty’s eyes danced; “when you going to begin?”

“Right off, this minute. And never stop, short of success?”

Van Reypen looked very handsome, his dark hair tossed back from his broad forehead, his dark eyes alight with love and determination. He was the sort of man who meets any circumstances with graceful un-selfconscious ease, and he sat back in his chair, looking at Patty with an air of assured proprietorship, that amused rather than irritated her.

“But I’m not engaged to you,” and Patty shook her lace-capped head till her curls bobbed.

“No? Oh, _do_ be! Let’s be _that_, at least.”

“What! engaged before I’ve learned to love you! Nevaire!”

“All right, Sweetness. I’ll wait. But it won’t be long. The poet babbles of ‘love’s protracted growing,’ but ours won’t be so terribly protracted, I promise you! I’ll give you a week to decide in,—and that’s too long——”

“A week! I couldn’t begin to get ready to think about it in that time! Give me a month, and I’ll go you.”

“All right, your wish is law. A month from today, then, you’re to complete your lessons, and graduate a full-fledged ladylove of your humble servant.”

“I don’t think you’re so awfully humble, Philip.”

“Can’t be, while I have you to be proud of! Oh, Patty, do decide quicker’n a month! That seems a century! Say a fortnight.”

“Nope. A month it is, before I need to say yes or no to your question. One more month of gay girlish freedom. Oh, Phil, I couldn’t be tied down to any one man! I want to flirt with all of them!”

“Do it in this month, then. For I warn you, after thirty-one more days, your flirtations must be laid aside, with your wax doll and Britannia teaset.”

“You seem pretty positive!”

“Faint heart never won fair lady. I’ve lots of faults, but a faint heart isn’t one of them. You’re the girl for me, but you don’t quite know it for sure,—_yet_. So I’m going to show you the truth, and gently but firmly lead you to it!”

Philip kept the conversation in this light key, and when he went away, Patty retained the impression of a very charming afternoon with him.

“He _is_ nice,” she said to Nan, after telling her all about it; “You feel so sort of sure of him all the time. He always does the right thing.”

“Yes,” said Nan.

Next day brought many visitors, but among the most welcome was Baby Milly, or Middy, as she called herself, and as Patty always called her.

“Such a booful Patty!” the child exclaimed, delighted at seeing her again after so long a time. “Middy loves you drefful! See, Middy b’inged lot o’ Naws!”

“She means Noahs, ma’am,” explained the nurse who had Milly in charge. “They’re the dolls from her Noah’s Ark.”

Sure enough, the baby had the four straight-garmented puppets that represent in painted wood, the patriarch and his three sons.

They were up in Patty’s boudoir and the little one gaily stood her cherished toys round among the small ferns in the window-box.

Suddenly Patty grabbed her up and carried her off to have a feast of bread and jam and milk.

“Nice party,” the guest remarked. “Des Patty an’ Middy. Ve’y nice party.”

After the party, the little one was taken home, and so it was not until she went to her room that night, that Patty discovered the four “Naws” still marching through her ferns.

“Blessed baby!” she said to herself, as she collected the illustrious quartette, and laid them on the table to be returned to their owner the next day.

Then Patty threw herself in a big chair, to think over her problems. She hadn’t told Farnsworth that she was not now engaged to Philip, and she didn’t quite like to tell him, though why, she couldn’t say.

“I wonder who I like best of anybody in all the world,” she mused, as she played idly with Middy’s toys. “I’m as uncertain of that, as I am which of these four statuettes I prefer.”

She looked critically at the Noah, and at Shem, Ham and Japheth; a little undecided as to which was which, so similar were they in every respect save as to the colours of their long one-piece gowns.

She stood them in a row on the table. “That’s Philip,” looking at one of them; “that’s Little Billee; that’s Kit, and the yellow one is Chick Channing. I’ve come to like Chick a lot,—more’n Kit, I believe. Now, let’s see. S’pose I had to lose one of these four forever; which could I best spare.”

The game grew exciting. Patty, sitting on one foot, leaned toward the table, middle finger-tip caught against her thumb, ready to snap the least desirable into limbo.

“Sorry,” she said, “but old Kit must go.” She snapped her fingers, and luckless Kit flew across the room.

Patty’s face fell. “It’s a hard world! But I’m going to fight this thing to a finish. And there’s no use mincing matters, if another had to go—it would, of course, be Chick.”

Another flick of her slender fingers, and Channing flew up in the air and landed on the high mantel.

“Now then,” and Patty knew that a momentous decision lay before her. There remained Philip and Bill Farnsworth.

Patty clasped her hands, rested her chin upon them and stared at the brown and red-coated gentlemen still standing before her.

“Phil is such a dear,” she reasoned, as if trying to convince herself; “and he certainly does worship the ground I walk on. But there’s something about Bill—dear Little Billee! I wonder what it is about him—And he _did_ save my life—I think I like him for his strength. I never saw anybody so strong—he always makes me think of Sir Galahad;—‘His strength was as the strength of ten because his heart was pure.’ Little Billee’s heart is pure,—pure gold. I—somehow, I know it by a sort of intuition. And yet, Phil—oh, Philip is a gentleman, of course, I know that, but Bill is nature’s nobleman—well any way, just at this minute, I like Little Billee better than anybody in the world! So, there now!”

With a well-aimed flick of her fingertips, Patty set Philip spinning, and it was a week later that she found him in her work-basket.

She had the grace to look a little ashamed of herself, but the fire of determination was in her eye, and a rosy flush tinted her cheeks.

Then a mischievous smile came to the corners of her mouth, and on an impulse she caught up the telephone from the stand, and called the Excelsior Hotel.

In a few moments Farnsworth’s “Hello” sounded in her ear.

“It’s Patty,” she said, in a small, timid voice.

“Well, I’m glad. Are we to have a little chat?”

“No,—I just wanted to tell you—to tell you——”

“Yes; dear Little Girl,—what is it?”

“I can’t seem to tell you after all.”

“Shall I come over there?”

“Oh, no, it’s too late. I only wanted to say that—that I’m not really engaged to anybody—now.”

“Thank heaven! and,—do you want to be?”

“Oh, no! Not for a month. I’ve got that long to make up my mind in.”

“Good! May I see you in the meantime?”

“Not unless you take that laugh out of your voice! I do believe you’re making fun of me.”

“I can’t help a laugh in my voice when the dull world has suddenly turned to rosy sunlight! Tell me, Apple Blossom, is that all you called up to say?”

“No,” and Patty’s eyes grew luminous; “I _was_ going to say something else——”

“What was it,—tell me,—Patty-sweet,——”

“Only—that at this present moment,—just for _one little minute_, you know, I like—you—better—than—anybody else in all the world!”

And with a sudden click, Patty hung up the receiver, and buried her burning face in her hands.

* * * * *

Transcriber’s note:

Hyphenation and spellings have been retained as in the original.

Punctuation and type-setting errors have been corrected without note.

Other errors have been corrected as noted below:

page 164, something in Fred Fairchild’s ==> something in Fred Fairfield’s

page 226, I have have had a ==> I have had a