Patty Blossom

"And in the drawing-room here?"

"Oh, here we'll have the bric-à-brac and pictures and small pieces of furniture,—all these things have been donated, you know. And up in the bedrooms we're to have things to wear, and lace pillows and dresser scarfs and all such things; oh, and hats! And in my boudoir there'll be wonderful kimonos and breakfast caps, and work-baskets and bags and really lovely things."

"I believe you'll enjoy it all. You're enthusiastic already. Let me give you some things for it. Wouldn't you like a few curios and bronze bits from Aunty Van's collections?"

"Oh, we would! But you oughtn't to spare them."

"I've such quantities, a few will never be missed. Come over and pick them out yourself. Bring Elise or whoever is on the committee with you."

"Thank you, Phil, you're awfully good. It will be an immense help. It's easy enough to get fancy things, and even dining-room things; and we've oceans of books and desk fittings and such things. But it's hardest of all to get the very things you offer. And they'll sell, splendidly."

"And you girls dress appropriately, I suppose."

"Yes, of course we never lose a chance of dressing up. Elise will be in cap and gown, in the library. Marie Homer, in full evening regalia, in here. Several as waitresses in the dining-room; flower-girls in the halls; oh, yes, we even use the kitchen. We have cooks there, and they'll sell all sorts of aluminum cook dishes and laundry things. It's really very well planned and I s'pose it will be fun. In the little reception room we have all sorts of motor things,—robes, coats, lunch-baskets, cushions, all the best and newest motor accessories. General Sports goods, too, I believe. Daisy's running that."

"And where are you?"

"Up in my own boudoir. I'm to wear a gorgeous Chinese kimono and one fascinating cap after another, selling them off of my head to the eager throngs of purchasers!"

"Fine! You'll do a rushing business. I'll give you some wares to sell up there, too. Say, some Oriental couch cushions, and some Persian slippers, and things from Auntie's wardrobe."

"Do you think you ought to?"

"Why, of course. All her things are mine, and there are such quantities of really valuable stuffs and trinkets I don't know what to do with them. And as to Aunty Van's own wishes, I know she would have been glad to have them used in this way,—especially for you."

Patty looked up at him, quickly. She well remembered Mrs. Van Reypen's affection for her, and what form it took.

"Phil," she said, "I don't want you to give these things for my sake–"

"Now, don't you worry, Curlyhead, I give them solely and wholly for the good of the cause. Indeed, if you weren't connected with the affair, I'd give twice as many!"

Philip's smile contradicted this awful taradiddle, and Patty rejoiced at his nonsense. Much as she wanted his gifts for the Sale, she didn't want to feel that it placed her under special obligations to him.

Just then the doorbell sounded, and in a moment Daisy Dow and Bill Farnsworth appeared. They were in gay spirits, having been to see a new comic opera, which proved such a bore that they left before it was over.

"Such rubbish!" Daisy exclaimed. "Old jokes, old music, old dances.

So I proposed we leave it to its fate and run up here. Glad to see us, Patty?"

"Yes, indeed! Just listen while I tell you of all the things I've wheedled out of Philip for our Sale."

"Gorgeous!" cried Daisy, after hearing the list. "Haven't you some for my room, Mr. Van Reypen?"

"I'm sure I have. You can use anything sporty?"

"Anything."

"Then I'll give you a first-class tennis set. I'll order it sent up from Ball and Bat's, or you can pick it out there yourself."

Daisy noticed that Van Reypen did not give her any of his aunt's heirlooms, but she gratefully accepted the offered gift.

"What shall I give you, Patty?" asked Bill. "What's your specialty?"

"Négligées and boudoir caps," said Patty, demurely; "have you any?"

"Something just as good. Want some Indian moccasins and Navajo blankets–"

"Now, Bill," said Daisy, "you promised me the Navajo, for a motor robe."

"All right. I'll give each good little girl one. Then Patty, how'd you like some real Hopi baskets?"

"Beautiful! You boys are awfully good to us. We'll have a wonderful sale."

"If only people come to buy," demurred Daisy.

"Oh, they'll come fast enough. We'll make oceans of money! I'm just beginning to get into the notion of the thing."

"Will those queer friends of yours be here?"

"What queer friends?"

"Those soully ones. I've never seen them, but I've heard a lot about them."

"From Chick Channing, I suppose," said Patty, coolly. "How that boy does love to exaggerate. I don't know, Daisy, whether they'll be here or not. If they are, use your wiles to sell them a lot of things out of your room, won't you?"

"Yes, I will, for I don't believe they'll care for your lace caps and pillows."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE HOUSE SALE

The House Sale was in full swing. It had been well advertised, and the object was a popular one, and throngs of willing buyers crowded the Fairfield house.

The family belongings had, many of them, been carried to the upper floors, and the first and second stories given over to the Bazaar.

The beds had been removed and the bedrooms were veritable stores of all sorts of light and dainty apparel and feminine trinkets. The rooms downstairs were filled with fine wares and were crowded with purchasers. The girls, dressed to suit their calling, were brisk and busy salesladies, and everywhere was laughter and merry chat.

Daisy, in a stunning new sports suit, looked with satisfaction on her stacks of golf accoutrements, skates, tennis sets, and side lines of bright caps and sweaters for both sexes. And her wares simply melted away. She laughingly put up her prices, but so attractive were the goods that they sold quickly.

Elise, too, did a rushing business in the library. She had several assistants, and they were all kept at work by the kind patrons. Many worthwhile books had been given the girls, and there were beside, library furnishings, and a few autographed books and letters that commanded large prices. A set of Riley's works was on sale, and these Farnsworth bought, requesting that they remain in their place until his further directions.

"Whatever are you going to do with them, Bill?" asked Elise, who looked like a pretty Portia in her cap and gown.

"Why not peruse them myself?" he returned.

"But I chance to know that you have a set of Riley."

"Well, maybe, I'll give them to somebody as a gift. If I can't find anybody to accept them, I'll turn them over to your girls' library."

"Oh, I dare say you can give them away. A beautiful set like that!

Why, they're Russia bound!"

"Why, so they are!"

"As if he didn't know that!" exclaimed one of the girls to Elise, as Farnsworth sauntered away. "Why, he gave that set to the sale!"

"He did! And then bought them back again!"

"Yes, that's just what he has done."

"Oh, well, then, he does mean to give them to somebody,—somebody in particular."

And Farnsworth certainly did mean to give them to somebody in particular. He designed them as a gift for Patty. He knew she would enjoy the poems, and he chose the edition with great care. Then, to enhance the value, he made it a present to the Club Sale, and promptly bought it back.

The big Westerner made his way through the crowds, stopping here and there to buy a flower or a trinket from the beguiling vendors. He looked in at the dining-room, and saw the long table set with marvelous confections, each to be sold with its dish of fine china or crystal. Also, on side tables were center-pieces, doilies, and napkins of all varieties of embroidery and decoration. A large back veranda had been arranged as a refreshment room, and here Farnsworth discovered Nan and Mr. Fairfield eating ice cream.

"Join us," they begged, but a smiling headshake was the negative reply.

"I'm on a still hunt for Patty. I'm told she's upstairs."

"Yes, in her own rooms," said Nan. "But you can't get in, the place is jammed. Wait till she has sold off a lot of stuff, then there'll be at least standing room. I've just come down from there and I never saw such a crowd."

"I'm fairly good at stemming crowds,—I think I'll go up."

Farnsworth squared his broad shoulders and started up the stairway.

By tactful manoeuvring, rather than by muscular strength, he gained his goal, and stood in the doorway of Patty's boudoir.

She was showing off a boudoir set to a prospective purchaser. It was of pale blue brocaded satin, edged with swansdown. There was a fetching lace cap with blue bows and little yellow rosebuds; also dainty blue slippers with rosebuds on them. Gaily, Patty donned the lovely garments, over her fluffy white frock, and pirouetted before her own cheval glass.

"You see," she said, in wheedling, saleslady tones, "it is a work of art! Ma foi! but it is chic! n'est-ce pas? Excuse my fearful French, but I can't sell this Parisian rig in English!"

"It is just darling!" declared the lady who was looking at it. "Of course I'll take it. I never saw one I liked so well."

Farnsworth stood watching the scene, thinking how much Patty's winning personality added to the charm of the robe, and wondering if she would accept the books he had bought for her.

The sale concluded, Patty thanked her patron, and in a moment was called upon to repeat the performance, as indeed she had been doing most of the evening. This time it was not so willing a buyer.

A gaunt, elderly spinster, with elaborately coiffed white hair and ostentatious costume, demanded a kimono that should be just her style and of embroidered crêpe de chine.

"Here is a lovely one in heliotrope," said Patty, smiling as she brought one of the prettiest ones she had.

"Heliotrope!" the lady almost screamed. "Do I then look so old? Am I in the sere and yellow? Why do you offer me heliotrope?"

"Oh, don't you care for it?" said Patty, pleasantly; "it's one of my favourite colours. What colour do you like best?"

"I like amber, but, of course, you wouldn't have that. Green, now?"

"No, we don't seem to have those. We've mostly pink and blue."

"Old-fashioned! Why don't you have amber or russet?"

"I wish we had. I'd love to give you what you want. How about white?"

"Namby pamby! But show me what you have. I'm determined to get something."

"If you only cared for blue," and Patty sighed. "Here's a new box yet unopened, but it says on the end, 'Light Blue.' So that wouldn't do."

"Oh, well, let me see it."

Patty opened the Japanese looking box, and out from the tissue papers fell a dream of a kimono. Of palest blue silk, it was covered with embroidered apple blossoms, not in a set design, but powdered over it, as if wafted there by a summer breeze. The conventional Japanese flowers are cherry blooms, but these were true apple blossoms, softly pink and white, the very loveliest gown Patty had ever seen.

Farnsworth was looking on, and he, too, caught sight of the exquisite design. He looked quickly at Patty, and, in dumb show, begged her not to sell the garment. Nor had she any intention of doing so. The moment she saw it, she wanted it for herself, and began hastily to fold it back in its box.

"Wait! Stop!" cried the lady; "I think I want that."

"It's already sold," said Big Bill, stepping forward. "Isn't that the one I ordered, Miss Fairfield?"

"Is it?" said Patty, helplessly, wanting to laugh at the way the lady looked daggers at Bill, yet not knowing quite what to say.

"It is. Kindly lay it aside for me. Mark it Farnsworth."

"Do nothing of the sort!" snapped the lady. "You said that was an unopened box. It can't belong to any one then. I will take it. How much is it?"

Patty thought quickly. She had received a green kimono for Christmas, which she had not worn, and didn't care for. It had been sent her by a distant cousin, who would never know or care what she did with it.

"All right," she said, "take it if you like. You have the first right to it."

Farnsworth looked disturbed, but did not combat Patty's decision.

"But," Patty went on, "I think I have a green one, after all. I've just remembered it. You can take your choice."

Stepping aside to her own wardrobe, Patty brought out a box and shook out a very pretty green gown. She put it on, and, draping it gracefully, stood, with her head on one side, observing the effect. She then looked doubtfully at the lady, and said, "I dare say you like the blue one better, after all. This is a very pale green."

"It's a lovely green! Just the shade I like best. If you're willing, I'll take the green one, by all means."

"Whichever you choose," and Patty swished the green folds around to catch the light. Very becoming it was, and on pretty Patty it looked a dream of loveliness.

"It's just bewitching," declared the gratified purchaser, and she paid for it and left her address to have it sent home.

"Good work!" said Farnsworth, laughing, as the lady passed on to look at other tempting wares. "You hypnotised her into taking the green one. I say, Patty, I want to make you a present of that apple-blossom wrap; mayn't I?"

"It isn't a wrap," said Patty, disdainfully, "it's a kimono, and the very prettiest one I ever saw."

"All right. I don't care what the dinky thing's name is. It's the most exquisite colouring, and it suits you down to the ground."

"It fits me down to the ground, too," laughed Patty, flinging the robe on again, and gathering up its lustrous folds. It was too long for her, but that, of course, could be remedied.

"Yes, you'll have to take a reef in it. Will you accept it, Little Apple Blossom?"

"It's very expensive," Patty demurred, looking over her shoulder at the graceful lines of the garment.

"That doesn't matter," and Farnsworth pulled out a roll of bills from his pocket.

Patty gave him a scornful look. "Don't be so ostentatious!" she flouted. "I didn't mean you couldn't afford it. I mean, I don't care to accept a gift of such value. I know,—we all know—you have the wealth of the Indies!"

Farnsworth looked at her in sheer amazement, a deep red flush stealing over his face. Then, for a moment, he held her eyes with his own, looking steadily at her.

"Very well," he said, gently, returning his money to his pocket. "I won't give it to you, if you don't want me to."

"Oh, gracious to goodness! what a kimono!" cried Daisy Dow, who came flying into the room, "I never saw such a beauty! I want it! Is it yours, Patty? No? Oh, you're just trying it on."

"I'm considering its purchase," said Farnsworth, "if I can find somebody to give it to. Do you like it, Daisy?"

"Do I like it! It's the loveliest thing in the whole Sale! By the way, just look at the presents I've had!"

Sure enough, Daisy was adorned with two or three gay-coloured sport sashes, over her arm were two silk sweaters, and she carried a basket, in which was a collection of gloves, ties, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and various odds and ends of sport apparel.

"What are you doing up here, anyway?" demanded Patty. "Who's looking after your room?"

"All sold out! Not a mite of anything left to sell. I came near disposing of your own pictures that still hang on the wall, and your tables and chairs. Are you really looking for somebody to buy that for, Bill? Well, it might as well be me!"

Daisy laughed gaily, and held out her hands for the kimono.

But Patty drew the blue folds around her and shook her yellow curls. "Possession is nine points of the law," she laughingly said. "I'm going to buy this thing myself."

"You can't," said Farnsworth, looking amused at the situation. "First come, first served. I asked for it before you thought of buying it. Now, I claim my purchase, and I shall give it to one or other of you two girls. I offered it to Patty first, so it is for her to say. If she refuses, I offer it to Daisy."

So gay was his manner, so light his tone, that Patty couldn't resent his words, but a twinkle in his eye made her realise that he knew he was cornering her. He knew how she admired the kimono. It would be difficult if not impossible to duplicate it. She must accept it from him or see Daisy triumphantly walk off with it.

The latter alternative was surely unthinkable! So Patty said, with exaggerated meekness, "Thank you, Little Billee, I accept it with pleasure. You are very kind."

Farnsworth burst out laughing at the mild tone and the shy, downcast eyes, whereupon Patty favoured him with an innocent stare, saying, "What is the matter?"

"A whole lot is the matter!" Daisy answered for him. "I wanted that robe, and now you've gone and got it, Patty Fairfield! You're the girl who gets everything! All right, Bill, just for that, you've got to give me the set of books you bought from Elise, and had saved for you. Will you?"

"If you say I've got to,—why ask me will I?" he returned, good-naturedly. "I am as wax in the hands of you two. Certainly, Daisy, I'll be honoured if you'll accept the books."

"What are they?" asked Patty, carelessly, as she still bent her attention to the embroideries of her new acquisition.

"Oh, it's a set of Riley. A wonderful set,—bound in Russia leather."

Patty looked up, quickly. She felt a conviction that Farnsworth had bought these books for her. To be sure she wouldn't want to accept two handsome presents from him, yet the idea of his so easily passing them over to Daisy annoyed her.

"Riley!" she exclaimed, involuntarily. "Why didn't you give those to me, instead of this gown?"

"The books are better suited to Daisy," he returned, "and the gown suits nobody but you."

"Oh, because Daisy is more intellectual, I suppose, and I'm–"

"Yes, and you're just a little piece of vanity, who cares only for dress and finery."

Farnsworth was having his innings now. Patty had hurt his feelings, and she knew it; and so, he was teasing her in return.

Daisy laughed at Patty's unmistakable chagrin, and ran away downstairs to claim her books.

It so chanced that there was no one else in Patty's boudoir at that moment. Everybody had flocked to the next room to see a new consignment of treasures displayed, and Farnsworth and Patty were alone.

"Yes," he said, looking straight at her, "I did buy the Riley set for you. But as you're so averse to accepting my ostentatious offerings, I thought better to give it to Daisy. And I had another reason, too."

"I'm glad you did," said Patty, coldly; "and I wish you had given her this also."

She began to draw off the kimono, but Farnsworth took a step toward her, and with one big swoop, gathered her into his arms.

"Apple Blossom!" he whispered, "my little Apple Blossom girl!"

So impulsive and all-embracing was the action, so swift the kiss that fell on Patty's pink cheek, and so quickly was she released, that she stood, gasping from breathlessness, and astonishment, as others began to return to the room.

Van Reypen was among them, and he called out to Patty:

"We've come for you. If your things aren't all sold, let somebody else look after them. We're going to supper now, and we want all our crowd together."

Gratefully, Patty turned to him, her head still in a whirl from Farnsworth's audacity, and with Philip she went downstairs.

CHAPTER XIX

PATTY RUNAWAY

The next day was Saturday, and Patty woke to a somewhat dismantled and disordered room. Her bed had been restored to its place, after the guests had departed the night before, but other appointments were a bit lacking. Nan had forbidden her to rise until noon, for the Bazaar had meant a large expenditure of strength and nerve force, and Patty was not robust.

Before she rang for her morning chocolate, she thought over the events of the previous evening. She was furiously angry at Farnsworth. So much so, that she could think of little else.

"How dared he?" she exclaimed to herself. "The idea of his thinking I am the sort of girl he can pick up and kiss like that!"

And then her face grew pink with blushes and she buried it in a pillow because she realised she was not nearly so indignant as she ought to be!

"Good heavens!" she thought, frantically. "Am I in love with Little Billee? With a Westerner? A self-made man? Why, he can't hold a candle to Phil for birth and name! And yet—oh, no, I'm not in love with him! He's too—too—he takes too much for granted. It's got to stop! Think how he carried me out of the Studio party! And last night! No wonder he walked off home without seeing me again! I wonder what he will offer by way of apology or explanation. I believe I'll ask him!"

Patty reached out her hand for the telephone, and suddenly stopped.

"I can't!" she whispered to herself, shame-facedly, "I—I don't want any apology from him. I—I—oh, fiddlesticks! I don't know what to do! Guess I'll have a talk with Nan—no, I won't. It was all very well to talk to her about Phil,—because I didn't care about him. But I do care about Billee. Oh! do I 'care for' him? I don't know—but I'm not going to think about it. It gets me all mixed up. I wonder—I wish I could go away. I will! I guess I can do as I've a mind to!"

After a little further thought, and a determined wag of the head, Patty rang her bell, and when the maid came she said, "Bring my chocolate, please, and then get out a suitcase, and pack it for me."

"Yes, Miss Patty," replied Jane, and until her breakfast came, Patty's mind worked rapidly.

"Jane, I'm going to elope," she announced, as the maid reappeared with a tray.

"Yes, Miss Patty," and though Jane's eyes flew wide open, she made no verbal comment.

"Don't look as if you had been shot!" said Patty, laughing; "I'm going alone, but you are to help me get off. Pack the things I tell you and then order the little car for me. I'm not going to tell you where I'm going, for I don't want any one to know. But after I'm gone, you may give Mrs. Fairfield a note I will leave with you. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss Patty," and Jane began at once to lay out the desired clothing.

"And," Patty went on, "if any one calls or telephones or asks for me in any way, just say that I've gone away for a few days to recuperate after the exertions of the House Sale."

She carried out her plan with no trouble at all. Jane took down the suitcase, Patty went down, too, by the back stairs, and got into the car unseen, and was driven to the Grand Central Station.

Admonishing the chauffeur to tell no one where he took her, Patty bought a ticket for Fern Falls, and in a few hours amazed Adele Kenerley by walking in at her front door.

"Patty Fairfield! You angel child! Where did you drop from? The blue skies?"

"Not quite. I flew up from New York to beg the hospitality of your roof for a few days."

"For as long as we can keep you. You dear old thing! How well you look!"

"Don't say that! I'm here to recuperate after a strenuous gay season and a particularly tiring Bazaar thing last night."

"Oh, yes, Bazaars are the most tiresome things in the world! You ought never to go to them."

"This one came to me. It was at our house. I'll tell you all about it later. But, honestly, Adele, I was just ready to perfectly fly this morning! My nerves gave out, my muscles are all lame and tired, and then, my brain gave way. So, sez I, why not flee away to that haven of rest what I wot of,—and here I am flewn!"

"Well, I'm jolly glad to see you. Jim will be overjoyed, too. Come right up to your own room, and take off your things, while I go and speak to Cook. Anything particular you want for lunch?"

"No, thank you. Any old thing, so long as it's good. As if you ever had anything that wasn't salt of the earth!"

"Oh, Patty! You don't eat salt of the earth! Unless you're a cannibal!"

"I'd like to know what kind of salt you do eat, then! Run along, Adele, and order a dressy luncheon. I am pretty hungry."

Mrs. Kenerley went off, and Patty stood for a moment, looking out of the window. "I did just the right thing," she said to herself. "Up here, where it's so quiet and peaceful, I can think things out, and know just where I stand. Down home, I shouldn't have had a minute to myself. It is beautiful here. So peaceful and calm."