CHAPTER IX
BIG BILL FARNSWORTH
"How are you?" exclaimed a voice as hearty as the kiss, and Patty, witha wild spring, jumped from the encircling arms, and turned to face atowering giant, who, she knew at once, must be Mr. Farnsworth.
"How DARE you!" she cried, stamping her foot, and flashing furiousglances, while her dimpled cheeks burned scarlet.
"Whoopee! Wowly-wow-wow! I thought you were Mona! Oh, can you EVERforgive me? But, no, of course you can't! So pronounce my doom! Shall Idash myself into the roaring billows and seek a watery grave? Oh, no,no! I see by your haughty glare that is all too mild a punishment!Then, have me tarred and feathered, and drawn and quartered and riddenon a rail! Send for the torturers! Send for the Inquisitioners! But,remember this! I didn't know I was kissing a stranger. I thought I waskissing my cousin Mona. If I had known,--oh, my dear lady,--if I hadKNOWN,--I should have kissed you TWICE!"
This astonishing announcement was doubtless induced by the fact thatPatty had been unable to resist his wheedlesome voice and frank,ingenuous manner, and she had indulged in one of her most dimpledsmiles.
With her face still flushed by the unexpected caress, and her goldencurls still rumpled from the baby's mischievous little fingers, Pattylooked like a harum-scarum schoolgirl.
"Be careful," she warned, shaking a finger at him. "I was just about toforgive you because of your mistake in identity, but if you make mereally angry, I'll NEVER forgive you."
"Come back, and ALL will be forgiven," said the young man,mock-dramatically, as he held out his arms for a repetition of thescene.
"This is your punishment," said Patty, gaily, paying no attention tohis fooling. "You are not to tell of this episode! I know you'll wantto, for it IS a good joke, but I should be unmercifully teased. And asyou owe me something for--for putting me in a false position----"
"Delightful position!" murmured the young man.
"You owe me SOMETHING," went on Patty, severely, "and I claim yourpromise not to tell any one,--not even Mona,--what you did."
"I WON'T tell," was the fervent reply. "I swear I won't tell! It shallbe OUR secret,--yours and mine. Our sweet secret, and we'll haveanother some day."
"What!"
"Another secret, I mean. What DID you think I meant? Any one is liableto have a secret,--any two, I mean. And we might chance to be the two."
"You're too big to talk such nonsense," and Patty ran a scornful eyeover the six feet three of broad and weighty masculinity.
"Oh, I KNOW how big I am. PLEASE don't rub THAT in! I've heard it eversince I was out of dresses. Can't you flatter me by pretending I'msmall?"
"I could make you FEEL small, if I told you what I really thought ofyou."
"Well, do that, then. What DO you think of me?"
"I think you very rude and--"
"You don't think any such thing,--because you KNOW I mistook you forMona, and it's not rude to kiss one's cousin."
"Is she your cousin? She never told me so."
"Well, her grandfather's stepdaughter's sister-in-law married mygrandmother's second cousin twice removed."
"Oh, then you're not very nearly related."
"No; that's why we don't look more alike. But, do you know my name? Orshall I introduce myself?"
"I fancy you're Big Bill Farnsworth, aren't you?"
"Yes,--but DON'T call me big, PLEASE!"
"No, I'll call you Little Billee. How's that?"
"That's lovely! Now, what may I call you?"
"Miss Fairfield."
The big man made an easy and graceful bow. "I am delighted to meet you,Miss Fair--Fair, with golden hair. Pardon me, I've a terrible memoryfor names, but a good reserve fund of poetry."
"Miss Fairfield, my name is. Pray don't forget it again."
"If you're so curt, I shall think it's a Fairfield and no favour!You're not mad at me, are you?"
"Certainly not. One can't get mad at an utter stranger."
"Oh, I don't think people who kiss people can be classed as utterstrangers."
"Well, you will be, if you refer to that mistake again! Now, remember,I forbid you ever to mention it,--to me, or to any one else. Here comesMona."
Mona and Daisy Dow appeared in the doorway, and seeing Bill, made adash at him. The young man kissed Mona heartily, and as he did so, hesmiled at Patty over Mona's shoulder. He shook hands with Daisy, andsoon the three were chatting gaily of old school days.
Then Roger Farrington came. Not all of Patty's New York friends hadliked Mona, but Roger had always declared the girl was a fine nature,spoiled by opulent surroundings. He had gladly accepted the invitationto the house party, and came in anticipation of an all-round good time.
"Hooray! Patty! Here's me!" was his salutation, as he ran up the steps.
"Oh, Roger!" cried Patty, and she grasped his hand and showed unfeignedgladness at seeing him. Patty was devoted to her friends, and Roger wasone of her schoolday chums. Mona came forward and greeted the newguest, and introduced him to the strangers.
"Isn't this just too downright jolly!" Roger exclaimed, as he looked atthe sea and shore, and then brought his gaze back to the merry group onthe veranda. "Haven't you any chaperon person? Or are we all kidstogether?"
"We have two chaperons," announced Patty, proudly. "One, you may see,just down that rose path. The lady in trailing lavender is our housechaperon, Mrs. Parsons. The impressive looking personage beside her isan artist of high degree. But our other chaperon,--ah, here she comes!Mrs. Kenerley."
Adele Kenerley appeared then, looking very sweet and dainty in herfresh summer frock, and laughingly expressed her willingness to keepthe house party in order and decorum.
"It won't be so very easy, Mrs. Kenerley," said Roger. "My word for it,these are wilful and prankish girls. I've known Miss Fairfield foryears, and she's capable of any mischief. Miss Galbraith, now, is moresedate."
"Nonsense!" cried Patty. "I'm the sedate one."
"You don't look it," observed Mona. "Your hair is a sight!"
"It is," said Laurence Cromer, coming up and catching the last remark;"a sight for gods and men! Miss Fairfield, I beseech you, don't do itup in fillets and things; leave it just as it is, DO!"
"Indeed I won't," said Patty, and she ran away to her own room to puther curly locks in order. She was quite shocked at the mirrored pictureof tousled tresses, and did it all up a little more severely thanusual, by way of amends.
"May I come in?" and Daisy Dow, after a quick tap at the door, walkedin, without waiting for an answer.
"What lovely hair!" she exclaimed, as Patty pushed in more and morehairpins. "You're a perfect duck, anyway. I foresee I shall be terriblyjealous of you. But I say, Patty,--I MAY call you Patty, mayn'tI?--don't you dare to steal Big Bill Farnsworth away from me! He's myown particular property and I don't allow trespassing."
There was an earnest tone underlying Daisy's gay words that made Pattylook up at her quickly. "Are you engaged to him?" she asked.
"No,--not exactly. At least, it isn't announced. But--"
"Oh, pshaw, don't trouble to explain. I won't bother your big adorer.But if he chooses to speak to me, I shan't be purposely rude to him. Ilike boys and young men, Miss Dow, and I like to talk and play anddance with them. But I've no SPECIAL interest in any ONE, and if youhave, I shall certainly respect it,--be sure of that."
"You're a brick, Patty! I was sure you were the minute I laid my twohonest grey eyes on you. But you're 'most too pretty for my peace ofmind. Bill adores pretty girls."
"Oh, don't cross bridges before you come to them. Probably he'll neverlook at little me, and if he should, I'll be too busy to see him. ThereARE others, you know."
Reassured by Patty's indifference, Daisy vowed her everlastingfriendship and adoration, and the two went downstairs arm in arm.
The veranda presented a gay scene--afternoon tea was in progress, andas some of the Spring Beach young people had dropped in, there wereseveral groups at small tables, or sitting on the veranda
steps andrailings.
"I've saved a lovely seat for you," said Laurence Cromer, advancing toPatty; "just to show you that I'm of a forgiving nature."
"Why, what have I done to be forgiven for?" asked Patty, opening herblue eyes wide in surprise.
"You've spoiled your good looks, for one thing. You HAD a little headsunning over with curls, and now you have the effect of a nice littlegirl who has washed her face and hands and neatly brushed her hair."
"But one can't go around like Slovenly Peter," said Patty, laughing, asshe took the wicker chair he placed for her.
"Why not, if one is a Pretty Peter?"
"Oh, pshaw, I see you don't know me very well. I never talk to peoplewho talk about me."
"Good gracious, how can they help it?" "Well, you see, I'm accustomedto my girl and boy friends, whom I've known for years. But here,somehow, everybody seems more grown up and societyfied."
"How old are you?"
"It's my impression that that's a rude question, though I'm not sure."
"It isn't, because you're not old enough to make it rude. Come, howold?"
"Nineteen, please, sir."
"Well, that's quite old enough to drop boy and girl ways and behave asa grown-up."
"But I don't want to," and Patty's adorable pout proved her words.
"That doesn't matter. Your 'reluctant feet' have to move on whetherthey wish to or not. Are you bashful?"
"Sorta," and Patty put her finger in her mouth, with a shy simper.
"You're anything but bashful! You're a coquette!"
"Oh, no!" and Patty opened her eyes wide in horror. "Oh, kind sir,DON'T say THAT!"
But Cromer paid no heed to her words; he was studying her face. "I'mgoing to paint you," he announced, "and I shall call it 'ReluctantFeet.' Your head, with its aureole of curls; your wide eyes, your babychin--"
"Oh, Roger!" cried Patty, as young Farrington came toward her. "What DOyou think? Mr. Cromer is going to paint a picture of my head and callit 'Reluctant Feet'! He says so."
"Yes," said Cromer, unconscious of any absurdity; "Miss Fairfield is afine subject."
"That's better than being called an object," said Roger, joining them,"and you DID look an object, Patty, when I arrived! Your wig was allawry,--and--"
"You haven't a soul for art?" said Cromer, looking solemnly at Roger.
"No, I haven't an artful soul, I fear. How are you getting along,Patty, down here without your fond but strict parents?"
"Getting along finely, Roger. Aunt Adelaide plays propriety, and Monaand I keep house."
"H'm, I'm 'fraid I scared off our long-haired friend," said Roger, asCromer rose and drifted away. "Never mind, I want to talk to you alittle myself. I say, Patsy, don't you let these men flatter you tillyou're all puffed up with pride and vanity."
"Now, Roger, AM I that kind of a goose?"
"Well, you're blossoming out so, and getting so growny-uppy looking,I'm 'fraid you won't be my little Patty-friend much longer."
"'Deed I shall! Don't you worry about that. How do you think Mona islooking?"
"Fine! Lots better than when I saw her in May. She dresses better,don't you think?"
"Yes, I guess she does," said Patty, demurely, with no hint as to WHYMona's appearance had improved. "She's an awfully nice girl, Roger."
"Yes, I always said so. And you and she help each other. Sort ofreaction, you know. What do we do down here?"
"Oh, there are oceans of things planned. Parties of all sorts, andpicnics, and dances, and motor trips, and every old thing. How long canyou stay?"
"I'm invited for a week, but I may have to go home sooner. Isn't thatWestern chap immense?"
For some ridiculous reason, Patty blushed scarlet at the mere mentionof Mr. Farnsworth.
"What the--oh, I say, Patty! You're not favouring him, are you? Why,you've only just met him to-day, haven't you?"
"Yes, certainly; I never saw him before. No, I'm not favouring him, asyou call it."
"Then why are you the colour of a hard-boiled lobster? Patty! quitblushing, or you'll burn up!"
"Don't, Roger; don't be silly. I'm NOT blushing."
"Oh, no! You're only a delicate shade of crimson vermilion! Well, ifyou want him, Patty, I'll get him for you. Do you want him now?"
"No! of course I don't! Do be still, Roger! And stop that foolishsmiling! Well, then, I'm going to talk to Adele Kenerley."
Patty ran away from Roger, who was decidedly in a teasing mood, andseated herself beside the pretty young matron.
"Such a GOOD child," Mrs. Kenerley was saying; "she NEVER cries, andshe's SO loving and affectionate."
"Oh, she's a heavenly baby!" cried Mona, in raptures of appreciation,and then along came the baby's father, fresh from his ocean dip.
"You must choke off my wife," he said, smiling, "if she gets started ona monologue about that infant prodigy! She can keep it up most of thehours out of the twenty-four, and go right over it all again next day!"
"And why not?" cried Mona. "SUCH a baby deserves appreciation. I canhardly wait till to-morrow to wake her up and play with her."
"She's a good enough kiddy," said the proud young father, trying tohide his own enthusiasm.
"Now, Jim," cried his wife, "you know perfectly well you're a biggeridiot about that child than I am! Why, would you believe, Mona--"
"There, there, Adele, if you're going to tell anecdotes of my parentaldevotion, I'm going to run away! Come on, Farnsworth, let's go for astroll, and talk over old times."
The two men walked off together, and the party generally broke up. Mostof them went to their rooms to rest or dress for dinner, and Pattyconcluded that she would grasp the opportunity to write a letter toNan, a task which she enjoyed, but rarely found time for.
"The house party is upon us," she wrote, "and, though they're reallyvery nice, they ARE a little of the west, westy. But there's only onegirl, Daisy Dow, who's MUCH that way, and I rather think I can manageher. But already she has warned me not to interfere with her young man!As if I would!"
Just here, Patty's cheeks grew red again, and she changed the subjectof her epistolary progress.
"The baby is a perfect darling, and her parents are very nice people.TERRIBLY devoted to the infant, but of course that's to be expected.Roger is a comfort. It's so nice to have an old friend here among allthese strangers. Oh, and there's an artist who, I know, spells his artwith a big A. He wants to paint me as 'Cherry Ripe' or something, Iforget what. But I know his portraits will look just like magazinecovers. Though,--I suppose I AM rather of that type myself. Oh, me! Iwish I were a tall, dark beauty, with melting brown eyes and midnighttresses, instead of a tow-headed, doll-faced thing. But then, as thepoet says, 'We women cannot choose our lot.' I'm in for a good time,there's no doubt about that. We've parties and picnics and pageantspiled up mountain high. So if I don't write again very soon, you'llknow it's because I'm a Social Butterfly for the time being, and theseare my Butterfly Days. Aunt Adelaide is rather nicer than when I lastwrote. She gets on her 'company manners,' and that makes her moreamiable."
"My goodness gracious!"
This last phrase was spoken aloud, not written, for the low, openwindow, near which Patty sat writing, was suddenly invaded by alaughing face and a pair of broad, burly shoulders, and Big Bill's bigvoice said, "Hello, you pretty little poppet!"