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CHAPTER III

PHILIP OBJECTS

The place became crowded. The two rooms occupied by the guests were small, and the party was a large one. Though not greatly attracted by the unusual sights and strange people, Patty was interested and curious. She wanted to see the affair in its entirety, and was glad when Sam Blaney came over to where she sat by Philip on the divan.

"I've come to carry you off," Blaney said to her; "you must mingle with the crowd, if you want to become one of us."

"I'd like to mingle a little," Patty replied, "but I can't hope to become one of such a talented bunch as this."

"They're not all so talented," Blaney assured her, as he led her away, leaving Philip a bit moody and disapproving.

"It's their clothes that astound me," said Patty. "Why do they wear such queer rigs? Almost like a masquerade or fancy-dress ball. You, for instance; why do you wear this Oriental robe and turban?"

"Now that you ask me, I don't believe I know! But it's habit, I think. Yes, that's it, it's just habit. We who possess higher intellect than our fellows must differentiate ourselves in some way from them, and how else but by a difference of raiment?"

"Well, that does explain it, but why such queer raiment? Why not beautiful garments instead of eccentric ones?"

"Ah, that's just it! They are beautiful, only you're not of sufficient intelligence to appreciate their beauty."

"What!" cried Patty, scarcely able to believe she had heard aright,

"I'm not intelligent enough–"

"Oh, don't get miffed. Your natural intelligence is all right, you've plenty of it. But it needs education,—bending in the right direction, you know. And I'm going to educate you. You're the most promising subject I've ever seen. I'll make a priestess of you,—a shining light,—a prophetess–"

Patty giggled. "If I'm a priestess I may as well be a prophetess, I suppose. When do these lessons begin?"

"Now. They have begun. You are unconsciously absorbing this atmosphere. You are involuntarily becoming more and more of our cult,—of our inspirations. You are evolving,—you don't realise it, but you are evolving–"

"I shall be revolving, if I don't get some fresh air! Why must you have these incense things smoking, not to mention some of the guests smoking also, and, incidentally, that Moorish lamp is smoking badly! I am absorbing your atmosphere, and it is choking me!"

Patty was in earnest, though she spoke lightly. The unpleasant air filled her lungs, and she wanted pure oxygen.

"Oh, all right," and Blaney laughed, indulgently. "You can't expect to achieve all at once. Come, we'll step out on the veranda for a whiff of outdoors, and then come back for the program."

"There's to be a program?"

"Oh, yes. Most wonderful work, by genius itself. Now, please, Miss Fairfield, don't resist the influence."

They were out on the tiny veranda that graced the Blaney's dwelling. The stars shone down through the pure winter air, and Patty felt as if she had been rescued from a malarial swamp. But Blaney was impressive. His deep, soft voice persuaded her against her will that she was pettish and crude to rebel at the unwholesome atmosphere inside. "You don't understand," he said gently. "Give us a fair trial. That's all I ask. I know your inner nature will respond, if you give it its freedom. Ah, freedom! That's all we aim for,—all we desire."

Through the window, Patty heard the sound of weird strains of music.

"Come on," she cried, "I do want to see this thing through. If that's the program beginning, take me in. I want to hear it."

They returned to the Studio, and Blaney found two seats which commanded a view of the platform. The seats were uncomfortable, being small wooden stools, and the air was still clouded with smoke of various sorts. But, determinedly, Patty prepared to listen to the revelations that awaited her. She had long had a curiosity to know what "Bohemia" meant, and now she expected to find out. They were nowhere near their own crowd. In fact, she couldn't see Elise or Mona, though Philip was visible between some rickety armour and a tattered curtain. Very handsome he looked, too, his dark, and just now gloomy, face thrown into relief by the "artistic" background.

"Apparently, Mr. Van Reypen is not enjoying himself," Blaney commented, with a quiet chuckle. "He's not our sort."

This remark jarred upon Patty, and she was about to make a spirited retort, when the music began.

A girl was at the piano. Her gown, of burlaps, made Patty think it had been made from an old coffee sack. But it had a marvelous sash of flaming vermilion velvet, edged with gold fringe, and in her black hair was stuck a long, bright red quill feather, that gave her an Indian effect.

"I think her gown is out of key," Patty whispered, "and I am sure her music is!"

Blaney smiled. "She is a law unto herself," he replied, "that is an arbitrary minor scale, played in sixths and with a contrary motion."

Patty stared. This was a new departure in music and was interesting.

"Note the cynicism in the discords," Blaney urged, and Patty began to wonder if she could be losing her mind or just finding it.

The performance concluded and a rapt silence followed. It seemed applause was undesired by these geniuses.

Philip stirred, restlessly, and looked over at Patty. She looked away, fearing he would silently express to her his desire to go home, and she wanted to stay to see more.

The girl who had played glided to a side seat, and her place was taken by another young woman, who presented an even more astonishing appearance. This time, the costume was of a sort of tapestry, heavily embroidered in brilliant hued silks. It was not unbeautiful, but it seemed to Patty more appropriate for upholstery purposes than for a dress.

The lady recited what may have been poems, and were, according to Blaney's whispered information, but as they were in some queer foreign language, they were utterly unintelligible.

"What was it all about?" Patty asked, as the recitations were at last over.

"My dear child, couldn't you gather it all,—all, from the marvellous attitudinising,—the wonderful intoning–"

"'Deed I couldn't! I've no idea what she was getting at, and I don't believe you have, either."

"Oh, yes, it was the glory of a soul on fire,—an immolation of genius on the altar of victory–"

"That sounds to me like rubbish," and Patty smiled frankly into the eyes of the man addressing her.

"Not rubbish, Miss Fairfield. Oh, what a pleasure it will be to enlighten your ignorance! To teach the eyes of your soul to see, the heart of your soul to beat–"

Again, it was the voice of the man that commanded her attention. The tones of Sam Blaney's speaking voice were of such a luring, persuasive quality that Patty felt herself agreeing and assenting to what she knew was nonsense.

But now Van Reypen was striding toward them. Patty saw at a glance that Phil was at the end of his rope. No more of this nonsense for him.

She was right. As Blaney's attention was diverted for a moment, Phil said, "Patty, you're going right straight out of this. It's no place for you! I'm ashamed to have you here. Get your wraps, and we'll go, whether the Farringtons are ready or not. We can walk over to Pine Laurel,—it isn't far. Come."

"I won't do it!" Patty returned, crisply. "The idea, Phil, of your ordering me around like that! I want to stay, and I'm going to stay. You can go, if you like; I'll come home with Roger and the girls."

"But I don't like it, Patty, and I don't like to have you here.

It's—it's–"

"Well, what is it? I think it's great fun, and I'm going to see it out."

"Even if I ask you not to? Even if I beg you to go–"

"Even if you beg me on your bended knees! You're silly, Phil. It can't be wrong if the Farringtons stand for it."

"It isn't exactly wrong,—not wrong, you know,—but, well,—it's cheap."

"Oh, fiddlesticks! I like it. I don't mind it's being cheap, I'm tired of expensive things and glad of a change."

"Oh, I don't mean that way," and Van Reypen looked genuinely distressed. "I wouldn't care how poor people were, if they were–"

"Respectable?"

"No, not that, these people are respectable, of course. But,—sincere, that's what I mean. This bunch are fakirs, they pretend to brains and knowledge and wisdom that they don't possess."

"And I suppose you do! Have you got all the knowledge and wisdom in the world?"

"At least I don't pretend to have the knowledge that I haven't!"

"But you pretend to have a whole lot of authority over me that you haven't! I tell you, Phil, I'm not going to be ordered about by you! I came to this party because I wanted to see it, and I'm going to stay till it's over, and you can do what you like."

"All right, then," and Phil looked grave. "I'll go away for a time, and I'll return and escort you home. What time shall I come back?"

"You needn't come back at all. I'll go home with Elise, or if not, I daresay Mr. Blaney will see that I get home safely. Won't you?" she added, turning to the resplendent figure nearby.

"Won't I what?" he asked gaily. "But the answer is yes, to anything you may ask. Even to the half of my kingdom, and then the other half. To be sure, my kingdom is small, and half of it is my sister's, but you can command it all."

"Oh, no, nothing so great as that! Merely to see me back to my rooftree in safety, if I outstay my escort."

"You're going to outstay everybody. Why, the fun hasn't begun yet.

Don't dream of going home now!"

"I won't," and Patty turned deliberately away from Philip and began to chat with a group of guests to whom she had previously been introduced.

"Join our ranks," said one vivacious young girl. "We're the intelligent idiots, perhaps the wisest sages of our time. We're having a symposium of souls–"

"Miss Fairfield isn't interested in souls yet," interrupted Blaney, "she's not unnaturally starving to death. The feast is unusually delayed tonight."

"It's coming now," announced Alla. "To the food, all!"

Philip was nowhere to be seen, nor did Patty see the Farringtons near her, but feeling glad of the hint of refreshments, she followed where Blaney led. Soon, she found herself ensconced on a divan, heaped with pillows, and many people were offering her strange-looking dishes.

"Chili con carne?" said one, "or common or garden Welsh Rabbit?"

"I never tasted the Chili stuff," laughed Patty, "but I love Welsh Rabbit. I'll take that, please."

But, alas, the Welsh Rabbit Patty had in mind was a golden, delectable confection, light and dainty of character. She was served with a goodly portion of a darkish, tough substance, of rubbery tendencies and strong cohesive powers.

In vain she essayed to eat it; it was unmanageable, and, to her taste, positively inedible. Yet the others were apparently enjoying it, so she made valiant efforts to consume her own.

"Fine, isn't it?" said Alla, with enthusiasm, "why, you're not eating any! You don't like it! Take this away, Sam, and bring Miss Fairfield some of the Tamale stuff."

And then, the Rabbit was succeeded by a concoction so much worse, that Patty was appalled at the mere sight and odour of it.

"Oh, please," she said, hastily, "if I might be excused from eating anything tonight. You see, the perfume of the incense burning is so unusual for me, that it makes me a little—er, headachy. Don't think me a silly, will you?"

Patty's wheedlesome air won them all, and they took away the highly-spiced, and strongly-flavoured dish. Then Blaney came with a small cup of thick, muddy-looking coffee.

"Just the thing for you," he declared, "set you up in a jiffy! Real Egyptian, no Turkish business. Just the thing for you!"

Patty gratefully accepted the coffee, but one taste was enough! It was thick with pulverized coffee grounds, it was sickishly sweet, and it was strong and black enough to please the blackest Egyptian who ever desired that brand.

"Thank you," she said, hastily handing the cup back. "It is so—so powerful, a little is quite enough. I'm sure that is all I want."

The others sipped the muddy fluid with apparent relish, and Patty began to wonder if she wished she had gone home with Philip. At any rate she was glad he would return for her, and she hoped it would be soon.

She asked where the Farringtons were.

"In the other room, I think," said Alla. "We'll find them after supper. Here are the sweetmeats now. You must try these."

The sweetmeats were Oriental, of course. There was Turkish Delight and other sticky, fruity, queer-looking bits, that seemed to Patty just about the most unappetising candies she had ever seen.

She refused them, a little positively, for she dreaded being persuaded to taste them, and it was hard to refuse the insistence of the guests who offered them.

"You'll learn," said Miss Norton, the pianist of the program. "It took me a long time to acquire the taste. But I've got it now," she added, as she helped herself bountifully to the saccharine bits.

Supper over, it was rumoured about that now Blaney would himself read from his own poems. A rustle of enthusiasm spread through the rooms, and Patty could easily see that this was the great event of the evening. She was glad now that she had stayed, for surely these poems would be a revelation of beauty and genius.

There was a zithern accompaniment by the girl in orange, but it was soft and unobtrusive, that the lines themselves might not be obscured.

Standing on the little platform, Blaney, in robes and turban, made a profound salaam, and then in his melodious voice breathed softly the following "Love Song ":

 
  "Thy beauty is a star—
  A star
  Afar—
  Ay,—far and far,
  Ay, far.
  And yet, a bar,—
  A bar
  Is between thee and me!
  Thee and me–
  Thee and me!"
 

The voice was so lovely that Patty scarcely sensed the words. With the haunting accompaniment, the whole was like a bit of music, and the words were negligible.

But in the hush which followed, Patty began to think that after all the words didn't amount to much. However, everybody was raving over the performance, and begging for more.

"Did you care for it?" Blaney asked of Patty, with what seemed to be a great longing in his eyes.

Unwilling to seem disappointed, she replied, "Oh, yes, it was most significant."

"I thank you," he said, his eyes alight with pleasure, "you have used the right word!"

As Patty had spoken the first noncommittal word that came into her head, she was thankful it proved acceptable!

CHAPTER IV

PATTY STAYS LATE

"It is so delightful to have you one of us, Patricia," said Alla, waving her long arms about. "This place is a Cosmic Centre, you know, and now that you belong to us, you must be here much of the time."

"But I'm only in Lakewood for a fortnight," said Patty, smiling at her;

"I go back to New York soon."

"So do we. That is, we go in a few months. But we claim you. You shall return and visit us here, and we shall be much together in the city. Oh, we have adopted you, and now you are ours, isn't she, Sam?"

"Indeed, yes," returned Blaney, enthusiastically; "never was such a rare soul added to our circle. Priestess Patricia, our star soul!"

Patty was flattered at the attention she was receiving. She didn't quite understand what a star soul meant, but she knew she held an elevated position among these highly intellectual people, and it dazzled her.

"I have always had an ambition," she admitted, "for something bigger and better than my social butterfly life, and with you I hope to achieve it. But I am ignorant,—you must teach me."

"We will," promised Miss Norton, "I shall take you in hand as my special charge. May I call on you tomorrow, and bring you some books to study?"

Patty hesitated. When she was a house guest she never made engagements without consulting her hostess. But she wanted to see and know more of this new venture, so she said, "I can't promise. But if I find I can receive you, may I not telephone or send you some message?"

"Yes, indeed," acquiesced Miss Norton, gladly.

Then the conversation drifted to the tendencies of modern art, and the expression of one's ego, and the influence of the aura, and a lot of subjects that were to Patty as so much Greek. But she was fascinated by the discourse, and resolved to read and study the books that should be given her, until she, too, could discuss intelligently these great subjects.

The talk was deliberate. Each wise and weighty opinion advanced was thoughtfully considered and argued, and Patty listened, striving to comprehend the jargon. Time passed rapidly, and, at last, she realised that most of the guests had gone, and there remained only about a half dozen of the most talkative ones.

Sam Blaney himself was the conversational leader. He went off on long tirades, and though Patty strove to follow his theories, they seemed to her vague and incomprehensible. She found herself getting sleepy, though she would have indignantly repudiated such an idea.

Another man, Mr. Griscom, slightly differed in opinions with Blaney and the debates between the two were raptly listened to by the others.

A chiming clock struck two.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Patty, "it can't be two o'clock! Where are the others? Where is Elise?"

"They've gone, long ago," said Blaney, smiling. "You know you said I might take you home, and so I told the Farringtons I would do so.

"But I didn't mean to stay as late as this! Why, I had no idea it was after twelve! Oh, please, Mr. Blaney, take me home at once. What will Mrs. Farrington think? I've never stayed anywhere so late before,—alone,—I mean."

"You're not alone, Patricia, dear," said Alla, surprised at Patty's evident alarm. "You're ours now, you know, and we will care for you and protect you. Sam will take you home, and if you fear Mrs. Farrington's reproaches, I will go with you and explain."

"Oh, not that," and Patty smiled. "I don't fear her, you know. I'm not a child, and I can do as I like. But it is not my custom to stay later than the people I came with."

"But all your customs will change now. We are a law unto ourselves. Bohemians are free of conventions and rules. Simply tell Mrs. Farrington that you have joined our circle and you will henceforth be governed by our ideas and customs. As you say, you are not a child, you can do as you like."

"Of course you can," said Mr. Griscom. "I'm going that way, I'll take you home, if you like."

"Thank you," said Patty, "but I have accepted Mr. Blaney's escort."

"That's right," said Blaney, heartily. "Oh, there'll be no trouble,—no trouble at all. I'll take Miss Fairfield home, and if any comments are made, they'll be made to me."

Patty felt uneasy. She didn't know exactly why, for she had done nothing wrong, but it was so very late, and she wondered what the Farringtons would think of her.

She got her wraps and Alla kissed her good-bye.

"Dear little Patricia," she said, affectionately. "It is all right. It seems unaccustomed, I know, but you are ours now, and your friends must get used to it."

It was only a few blocks to walk over to Pine Laurel, and Patty started off with Sam Blaney.

"You're anxious, Miss Fairfield," he said, kindly, "and I'm sorry. Can I help at all? I assure you I had no thought of your staying with us longer than you wished. Shall I go in and explain to your friends?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Blaney," Patty said, after an instant's thought. "I think, if you please, I would rather you would not come in. If I am 'scolded,' I'd rather stand it alone."

There were lights in the Farrington house when they arrived. At sound of their steps on the veranda, the door opened, and Roger appeared. "That you, Patty?" he said, pleasantly; "Hello, Blaney, will you come in?"

"No, thanks; just brought Miss Fairfield home. She seemed to enjoy her evening."

"That's good," returned Roger. "Good night, then, if you won't come in."

Roger closed the door, and with his hand still on the knob, whispered to Patty: "You're going to catch it from Phil! But I'll stand by you."

Patty's eyes flashed. She resented the idea of Van Reypen's authority, and she was tired and bothered. But Roger's kindly attitude comforted her, and she smiled at him.

"Good night, Roger," she said, aloud. "Thank you for waiting up for me. I'm tired, and I'll go straight to my room. The girls have gone up, I suppose."

"Wait a moment, Patty," and Van Reypen appeared in the doorway from the sun-parlour, where the two men had been sitting, "wait a moment, I want to speak to you."

"Not tonight, Phil, please. I'm very tired."

"You ought to be tired! Staying till all hours with that bunch of trash! I'm ashamed of you!"

Patty was thoroughly angry. It took a good deal to make good-natured Patty angry, but when her temper was roused, it meant a tempest. Also, she was worn out mentally and physically and, more than all, she resented Philip's assumption of authority.

Her blue eyes flashed, and a spot of pink came into each cheek, as she replied: "It is not of the slightest interest to me whether you are ashamed of me or not! You are in no way responsible for my actions and you have no right to reprove or criticise me. I may have broken the conventions of hospitality, but that is between me and Mrs. Farrington. Your opinion of me means nothing to me whatever! Good night, Roger."

Patty held out her hand to Roger, who took it for a moment, with a smiling good night, and then, with the air of an offended queen, Patty swept upstairs and entered her own room.

There she found Mona and Elise, one asleep on the couch, the other rubbing her eyes as she sat up in a big easy-chair.

"Goodness, Patty!" said Mona, looking at the clock, "what have you been up to?"

Elise blinked and shook herself awake. "We had to wait up to see you," she said, "so we waited here."

"I see you did," returned Patty, lightly. "And now your wait is over, and you've seen me, shall us say good night?"

"Not much we won't!" declared Elise, now broad awake. "Tell us everything about it! What did you do there all this time? What did Phil say? Who brought you home? Do you like that crowd? How can you?

They bore me to death! Oh, Patty, you're going to cry!"

"I am," declared Patty, and the tears gathered thickly in her eyes. "I'm all in, and I'm down and out, and I'm mad as hops, and I'm tired, and I am going to cry. Now, if you've any sense of common humanity, you'll know enough to go away and let me alone!"

"Can I help?" asked Mona, looking commiseratingly at Patty.

"No," and Patty smiled through the fast-flooding tears. "I never need help to cry!"

"Come on, then," and Mona took Elise by the arm and led her away, as they heard Patty's door locked behind them.

Now, most girls would have thrown themselves down on the pillows to have their cry out, but Patty was too methodical for that. "I can't cry comfortably in this rig," she said to herself, beginning to take off the chiffon gown.

And it was with tears still unshed that she finally sat at her dressing-table plaiting her hair for the night.

"And after all," she remarked to her reflection in the mirror, "I only want to cry 'cause I'm tired and worn out and—yes, and mad! I'm mad at Philip, and I'm going to stay mad! He has no right to talk to me like a Dutch uncle! My own father never spoke to me like that! The idea! I just simply, plain won't stand it, and that's all there is about that!"

And so, after Patty was snugly in bed, cuddled beneath the comforting down coverlet, she let herself go, and cried to her heart's content; great, soul-satisfying sobs that quieted her throbbing pulses and exhausted her strained nerves, until she fell asleep from sheer weariness.

And next morning she awoke, smiling. Everything looked bright and cheery. The sun shone in at her windows, and as she felt somebody pinching her toes through the blankets, she opened her eyes to see Mona sitting on the edge of the bed and Elise just coming in at the door. Mrs. Farrington followed, and Patty sat up in bed with a smiling welcome for all.

"Hello, you dear things!" she cried. "You first, Mrs. Farrington. I want to 'fess up to you. I was baddy girl last night, and I stayed at the party much later than I meant to, or than I knew, until I suddenly realised the time. Am I forguv? Oh, do say yes, and don't scold me!"

Pretty Patty possessed herself of the lady's hand and looked so penitent and so wheedlesome that Mrs. Farrington was disarmed.

"Why, of course, dear; it was not really wrong, but young girls ought to be home by midnight at latest, I think,—and too, ought to come home with their own people."

"I know it, Mrs. Farrington, I do know it. I have been brought up right—honest, I have. But it was a special occasion, you see, and, too, my own people ran off and left me."

"Oh, now, Patty," began Elise, "Sam said you sent word for us to do so."

"Well, I didn't exactly do that, but I did want to stay longer. Oh, Mrs. Farrington, you've no idea how interesting those psychic souls are–"

"What!"

"Yes, they're psychic, you know–"

"And what are psychics,—clearly, now, Patty, what are psychics?"

"Why, they're–they're–"

"Yes, go on."

"Well, they're—why, they're psychics! That's what they are."

"Patty, you're an irresistible little goose!" and Mrs. Farrington bent down to kiss the pretty, flushed face, and then laughingly declared she had no more time to waste on psychics, and trailed away.

"Now, tell us all about it, Patsy," said Elise. "I shan't let you get up till you do."

"There's not much to tell, Elise; but I liked to learn about the things they were talking about and so I stayed later than I should have. But since your mother is so lovely about it, I don't care what any one else says."

"Oh, pshaw,—your staying late,—that was nothing. But what did they do over there so interesting? I can't see any sense in their talk."

"I can't see much myself, and that's why I want to learn. I'm awfully ignorant of higher ethics,—and—things like that."

"Higher ethics? H—m. Is it sort of Uplift ideas?"

"No, not that exactly."

"Fudge, you don't know what it is, 'exactly,' and between you and me, I don't think you have the glimmer of a ghost of an idea what it is all about! Now, have you?"

"If I had, I couldn't make you understand! You're antagonistic. You have to be receptive and responsive and–"

"Patty, you're a goose! A silly idiot of a goose! But such a dear, pretty little goose, that with all your faults we love you still! Now, I'll scoot, and you get dressed, for we're going somewhere today."

"Where?"

"Never you mind, Miss Curiosity. Just put on a house dress and come down to breakfast, and you'll find out."

Elise ran away, but Mona lingered.

"Patty," she said, a little gravely, "Philip is terribly upset about last night."

"I don't care if he is, Mona. He has no right to be. He has no authority over me."

"What! When you've become engaged to him?"

"I'm not engaged to him at all."

"He says you are."

"Did he really say that, Mona?"

"Not in so many words, but he implied that there was an understanding between you."

"Understanding! I hate that word,—used that way! There's a misunderstanding between us, if there's anything!"

"But you're going to be engaged to him, aren't you, Patty?"

"No, I don't think so. Not after last night. Why, he was horrid, Mona, after I came home. He scolded me, and I wouldn't stay to listen.

I ran upstairs."

"Oh, Patty, I wish you'd make up with him, and be friends again, and be engaged to him, and announce it at my wedding."

"Did he say all that to you last night? Did he make those delightful plans, and talk them over with you and Roger?"

"Don't look so furious. It just came about, you see. We were sitting there, waiting for you to come home, and Phil was saying how he adores you, and how he wanted your promise, but he had to wait a certain time before you would say positively. And, of course, we were talking about my wedding, and I said it would be nice to announce your engagement then, it's always so picturesque to announce one wedding at another–"

"I'm sorry I can't oblige you, Mona, but if you want an engagement announced at your wedding I'm afraid you'll have to get some other girl. You can keep the same man, if you like!"

"Oh, Patty, don't be cross with me! It wasn't my fault!"

"That's so, Mona,—I'm a pig! Forgive me, dear. Now, to make up, I'll tell you just how it is. I have told Philip that I'd give him my answer in about two weeks. And that will be your wedding day. But my answer is to be yes, only if he succeeds in teaching me to love him by that time. And I don't mind telling you, that the way he talked to me last night doesn't exactly further his cause!"

"But, Patty, he was angry, you know, and jealous of those foolish Blaney people."

"They're not foolish,—and I can't bear men who are jealous. Now, Mona, girlie, you 'tend to your own suitor. You've quite enough to do in the next two weeks, without dipping your pretty little fingers in my pie."

"Yes," sighed Mona, "I have."