CHAPTER XI PATTY IN TEARS
Patty’s bedroom was a pretty, cheery and charming place. The sunlightcame in through delicate, lacy curtains, the furniture and appointmentswere all that a fastidious taste could desire, and the pictures andtrinkets scattered about were beautiful and attractive. There werealways fresh flowers in the vases and the whole effect was conducive tohappiness and contentment.
Yet across the lace-covered bed was the outstretched form of somebodywho had flung herself there in a very abandonment of woe. Somebody withgolden curly hair, from which the boudoir cap had fallen unheeded;somebody who was digging a little wet mop of a handkerchief into eyesthat flowed with tears like a very freshet of rain. Somebody who wasshaking and quivering with great racking sobs that were all the moreagonising because they were silent.
Patty was crying. And with her ever-active efficiency, she was making athorough and complete success of it. Now and then, she would pause, situp and vigorously wipe her eyes, then she would fling herself back intothe nest of damp pillows and start all over again. Her pretty negligéeof light blue silk was crumpled into a shocking state; one littleslipper had fallen off, and though her face was buried in the pillowsher heaving shoulders and tumbled curls still bore witness to the woethat was torturing her soul.
Suddenly, she became angry, and sat up straight, fists clenched, eyesblazing,—fairly gritting her teeth in a wave of indignation.
Then again, grief, deep, hopeless grief overcame her, and back she fell,fresh tears welling up and spilling over.
“Patty,” cried Bumble, bouncing into the room, “I’ve a splendid plan!Let’s get a whole lot of top balloons, and—for the love of MichaelovitchPaderewski! what _is_ the matter?”
Curiously Bumble looked at the shaking figure on the bed. With afrightened face, she came cautiously toward Patty, unable to believe hereyes at the sight of her cousin’s attitude.
“Get out! go ’way!” wailed Patty, in such hollow tones that they scarceseemed her own at all.
“Patty! dear! my own little darling cousin, what _is_ it? Tell Bumble!Tell me, dear.”
“N-nothing! Go away, I tell you.”
“I won’t go away! How can I, when I don’t know what’s the matter withyou! Are you ill?”
“No—no—oh, Bumble, don’t pester me!”
“But what ails you, Patty? You don’t even speak like yourself. I’m goingto call Nan.”
“No, don’t! Yes, do! Oh, I don’t care what you do!” and a brand-newdeluge poured forth, as Patty sat up and stared at Helen with eyes fullof utter woe as well as gushing tears.
Thoroughly frightened, Helen did call Nan, who came at once.
“Why, you poor little thing,” she said, sitting down beside Patty, andcaressing her, as she offered a fresh handkerchief in place of thesqueezed up mop in Patty’s hand.
“Never mind, dear, don’t try to talk,—just be quiet. And cry all youlike,—but, gracious! I didn’t know one person _could_ hold so manytears! Now, hush, dear, don’t talk. Keep right on crying, it’ll do yougood.”
Nan’s comforting voice and her tender whimsicality, helped Patty, andshe sobbed in Nan’s arms, for a time, then, by degrees, her tears beganto be somewhat checked, and she stopped shaking.
Nan only patted her gently, and crooned comforting little sounds, thatsoothed the tortured nerves by their loving tone.
At last, Patty stopped crying for the simple reason, apparently, thather tears had at last become exhausted.
Helen had brought a fresh relay of handkerchiefs, and as Pattyhalf-unconsciously accepted one after another, the bed was strewn withthe moistened squares of linen.
“Hold on,” warned Bumble, “if you’re going to begin again, go easy onthis; it’s the last one of mine.”
“I’ve plenty,” assured Nan, “cry away, Patty, if you like.”
Nan’s intuition told her that Patty must have her cry out, before anyexplanation could be forthcoming. And it was so. Every time the tearsceased and Patty undertook to talk, just so often the floods burst forthagain. Helen grew a bit impatient, and wanted to know what it was allabout, but Nan gave her a warning glance, that curbed her curiosity.
For Nan knew Patty’s temperament, and knew, too, that only some reallygreat matter lay at the bottom of this outbreak.
At last, a point was reached, where it seemed that the tears were reallyexhausted, and, weak and white, Patty looked with loving gratitude intoNan’s comforting eyes.
“Bless you, dear,” Nan said, kissing the flushed cheek,—“here’s a drypillow, now, rest. I’m going to get you a glass of milk and a biscuit.”
When Nan returned, Patty was quiet, and very sad-looking. Helen wastrying to cheer her up by talking nonsense, but Patty paid little heedto her chatter.
Mechanically she took the milk that Nan brought, and nibbled at abiscuit.
“It’s this, people,” she said, at length, “you might as well know, firstas last. Billee has thrown me over.”
Helen stared, aghast, but Nan laughed.
“Oh, Patty!” she cried, “all that fuss for a simple little lovers’quarrel! Well I suppose you are a simple little lover, and I daresayBill has no notion of it all. _What’s_ your fancied grievance? And, Imust admit I’m relieved! I feared it was something serious.”
“And it is!” flashed Patty; “I guess you’ll think so when you know. Isent him a val—valentine——”
“And that upset the apple-cart? Why, why; was it a ‘comic’?”
“Don’t tease, Nan, it’s fearful. You saw the valentine, didn’t you,Bumble?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember anything about it. What was it?”
“Here it is!” and Patty drew from beneath a pillow a moist, bedraggledpaper, that had once been a gay, crisp sheet.
Nan took it and smoothed it out. She saw a blurred picture of two rusticlovers and with some difficulty she read the absurd lines beneath.
“Our love is high as Heaven And wide as rolling sea——”
she read aloud, “that’s all right, seems to me,—Little Billee can’t havethrown you over for _that_ sentiment! Now, I’ll read further:
The vows cannot be riven That bind my love and me.
Orthodox, I’m sure. Not a perfect rhyme, perhaps, but that’s not enoughto quarrel over! Let’s see what comes next:
But should our pledge be broken Or should your love be dead, Send back this tender token And let us never wed.
Why, Patty Fairfield, do you mean to say you sent this ridiculous thingto your Little Billee! I don’t wonder he sent it back! It’s silly beyondwords! Why did you send such a horror?”
“I dunno,” said Patty, a little shame-facedly, “mostly becauseLieutenant Herron dared me to, and I never will be dared. But, oh, Nan,I don’t care if it is a foolish valentine, he _did_ send it back,—and,don’t you see, it says, ‘Send back this tender token, and let us neverwed,’—and he _did_ send it back!”
Patty’s eyes were large and scared-looking, and, though she didn’t crynow, she looked as if she were about ready to.
“But——” Nan looked bewildered,—“I don’t understand——”
“I do!” cried Helen, “and it’s awful! I don’t wonder you’re upset,Patty! But, hold on, maybe somebody else got it and sent it back.”
“No,” and Patty forlornly showed the envelope. “See, it’s his writing,mailed in Washington, yesterday—oh,—how could he? Why should he?”
“Patty Fairfield, behave yourself!” Nan gave her a little shake; “do youmean to tell me Bill Farnsworth means he returns your valentine—yourlove-token!”
“There it is! That’s the one I sent him, and it _says_ to return it ifhis love is dead—and, he’s returned it! And that horrid Herron told meabout a—a b-black-eyed b-beauty——”
“Nonsense, Patty! be sensible! It can’t be——”
“Very well, how _do_ you explain it? Why should I send that thing to
hima few days ago, and get it back today? Why would he return it—there’s nomistaking his writing, look at it—unless he meant me to take it as it’sprinted there! He has been bewitched by that b-black-eyed——”
“Hush, Patty! Don’t talk such absolute rubbish! I know Bill Farnsworth,and I know——”
“You don’t know the girl——”
“Jealous! Fie, Patty, for shame!”
“But, Nan,” interposed Bumble, “as Patty says, what does it mean? Iwouldn’t doubt Little Billee’s faith and loyalty either, only, in theface of this thing, what can we think?”
“I’ll never believe Bill meant that! He’s teasing you——”
“A pretty way to tease!” Patty was angry now. “And you know he isn’t atease. He never plays jokes like Kit Cameron, or Chick Channing might.No, Nan, he has been bowled over by a Washington girl and he wants toget rid of me!”
“Patty,” and Nan spoke very seriously, “it isn’t right for you so todoubt the man you’ve promised to marry. I can’t, I won’t believe that hemeans this as you take it!”
“How else can he mean it? If you’ll give me a rational explanation ofwhat he _does_ mean, I’ll be only too glad. I’ve thought and thought,and I can’t imagine any meaning but the actual fact that the printedwords say to send the valentine back if his love is dead,—and he didsend it back! Now, for your explanation!”
“I don’t know, Patty. I confess I don’t. It isn’t like him to do it totease you.”
“Of course, it isn’t! He’d never do such a cruel, heartless thing asthat,—if he still loved me. So, he _has_ done the cruel thing,—and it’sbecause he _doesn’t_ love me!”
“What are you going to do?” asked Helen, breaking a long silence.
“There’s nothing to do,” replied Patty, hopelessly, “I can’t write andbeg him to take me back. I have some pride! Nor can I ask what I’ve doneto forfeit his regard. For I know I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve flirted with Phil Van Reypen,” said Helen, accusingly.
“I haven’t!” flared Patty. “On the contrary, I’ve been very careful notto! He’s flirted with me, if you like, but I’ve not encouraged him. Youknow I haven’t, Nan.”
“Not intentionally, dear, but you have been with him a great deal oflate,—and Little Billee is of a jealous nature.”
“No, it isn’t that,” and Patty sighed, forlornly; “I only wish it were!Then I could ask his pardon and make up and all that. No, my Billee hasfound somebody he likes better’n me. I’m Leah, the Forsaken,—after all!”
“Leah, nothing!” exclaimed Helen. “Patty, if you can’t cut out a littleblack-eyed beauty, you’re no good! Don’t submit so tamely! Go toWashington,—hunt up the horrid little thing, and see what she’s like!Then, I’ll back your beauty against her, any day!”
“Oh, hush up, Bumble! Do you suppose I’d stoop to get back a man who hasthrown me over! You must be crazy! I love Bill Farnsworth,—I adore him,and I can never love anybody else; but I’ll never raise a finger towhistle him back! I’m not that sort of a girl! I shall never write himagain, or refer to this miserable business in any way. I’m glad Mr.Herron gave me the hint, or I might have made a fool of myself; now, Iwon’t!”
Nan was re-reading the unlucky missive.
“It’s very strange,” was her comment. “I can’t understand it. There isno mistaking his handwriting; there’s no mistaking the words of thatsilly verse! But I don’t like it, Patty. I’m surprised at Bill. If hehad ceased to love you, why not tell you so, like a gentleman? You know,I always said——”
“Stop, Nan!” and Patty’s voice was tense, while red spots burned on hercheeks, “don’t you dare cast any reflection on him! My Billee is allright! He _is_ a gentleman! I laid myself open to this treatment and Ideserved all I’ve got. It was bad taste to say the least, for me to sendthat thing! I never should have done it, but to get more money for thecommittee. I was thoughtless, careless, and foolishly unwilling to letMr. Herron think I didn’t dare send it. He said ‘you don’t dare take thechance!’ meaning that I might get back—just what I did get back! But Iwas so _sure_ of Bill’s love, so confident of his faith and loyalty,that I never dreamed there was a chance of Mr. Herron’s being right!”
“He isn’t right!” cried Helen. “I believe there’s a mistake somewhere!”
“Just where?” asked Patty, listlessly. “If you can invent or imaginesomething that would explain his returning that horrid old thing, tellme! I’ll be glad to know it!”
But Helen couldn’t think of any plausible or even possible explanationor excuse for the return of the valentine.
For Farnsworth was _not_ a practical joker, and indeed, few lovers couldhave been capable of such a jest as that!
The case seemed to be at a deadlock. It was incredible that LittleBillee should have sent back the valentine, yet, there it was! Andindubitably from him. There was no possibility that any one else hadwritten Patty’s address on the big envelope. Bill’s large, well-formedchirography was characteristic and unmistakable.
“There’s another thing,” confessed Patty, “Bill thinks I opened a letterthat he sent me, sealed. And I didn’t. Maybe that made him stop lovingme.”
The flower-face was so pathetic in its tragic grief, that Nan waxedwroth again.
“Patty,” she said, “if Bill Farnsworth has really tossed you off like adiscarded glove, I think Fred Fairfield will reckon with him! It’soutrageous,—that’s what it is!”
“Oh, no, Nan; don’t let Father do anything sensational! I don’t want aman who doesn’t want me! I assure you I don’t! I’m no meek Griselda——”
“She was the patient one,” put in Helen.
“Well, I’m not patient, either! I’m—oh, I’m just miserable! I wish youwould both clear out, and let me alone!”
“Well, we won’t,” said Nan, determinedly. “But, I’ll tell you what weare going to do. You dress yourself all up and we’ll all go down townand lunch at the gayest and giddiest place we can find, and then we’llgo to a foolish matinée,—the most hilarious one there is on theboards,—and then, we’ll get a new start, and when we come home we cantalk this over with your father, and see what’s what in the Fairfieldhousehold!”
Patty demurred, saying she didn’t want to go, but Nan was inexorable,and at last Patty yielded. But only on the condition that they wouldgive her half an hour alone first, to think things out.
This was granted, and Patty was left alone and undisturbed for thestipulated time.
When Nan came again to the room, she found Patty not yet dressing, butlooking far more cheerful.
“I’ve thinked it out,” she greeted Nan; “and here’s the result. I’mgoing to keep faith in my Little Billee, until he tells me with his ownlips that he’s tired of me, and loves another girl. I can’t see any wayto hope this isn’t so, but I’m going to keep my faith, till I knowmore,—anyway. Because, Nan,” her voice fell to a whisper, “if I don’t,I’ll go crazy! When I remember all he has said to me,—all his faith inme, all his protestations of undying, unfailing love, I can’t _believe_it’s all swept away by some new face! Think how long Bill has cared forme——”
“That’s right, Patty, look at it like that. It’s a whole lot better.”
As a matter of fact, Nan, too, had thought it over very seriously, andshe could see no explanation but Bill Farnsworth’s deep perfidy. Shecould conceive of no theory that would fit the facts, save the hint thatHerron had dropped, that Bill had been enslaved by a sparkling littlebrunette, full of the Southern charm and fascination.
It was not like Farnsworth, but Nan realised that men are not alwaysmasters of their fates.
She carried out her plan, and took the two girls to luncheon and then tothe theatre, and she was glad to see that Patty’s poise had returned toher, and though not exactly cheerful, she was at least, calm andcomposed.
Whether this was due to the gay entertainment, or to her avowed faith inher recreant lover, Nan didn’t know. But sh
e was glad that Patty wasoutwardly pleasant and placid, whatever might be the turmoil in herheart.
They returned home about six o’clock, and as they entered, Jane, thehousemaid, told Patty there had been a long-distance telephone call forher, during the afternoon.
“And whoever it was,” Jane said, “promised to call you again later,—athalf-past six.”
“All right,” said Patty, her heart bounding with hope that the callmight be from Washington. But it was improbable, for owing to thedifficulties and delays in getting a good connection, Bill rarely couldtake time for this method of communication.
Still outwardly serene, she went to her room and took off her wraps, andthen returned to the library to await the expected call.
“Of course, it will be Bill,” said Helen, comfortingly.
“Of course it won’t,” Patty returned, drearily, and then she waited.