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CHAPTER IX

A SHOWER

"If you ask me," Patty said to Nan, "I think these 'shower' affairs are ridiculous. All the girls who are coming today will give Mona a wedding present, so why add a shower gift?"

"I didn't ask you," returned Nan, "but since you raise the question, I'll just remark, in passing, that it's part of the performance, and it's no more ridiculous than lots of the other flummery that goes along with a this year's model wedding. I didn't have any showers,—but that was then."

"Right you are, Lady Gay, and as Mona most especially desired this mark of esteem from her friends, I'm glad she's going to have it."

"But I thought showers were usually surprises,—I didn't know the bride-elect requested one, or even knew of it beforehand."

"Your think is correct. It's most unusual, but Mona is unusual, and any surprise in connection with her wedding would be impossible. She knows it all, and the arrangements are all under her direct supervision. It's going to be a pretty stunning affair, Nansome."

"So I gather from what I hear. While you were at Lakewood, I didn't get much of the news about it, but since your return I've heard of nothing else."

"And you won't until after the fifteenth. I declare, Nan, I've had no time for a real heart to heart talk with you since I got back. I haven't even told you about the Blaneys."

"Oh, the highbrow people? No; were they interesting?"

"Yes, indeed. You'll meet them at the wedding. Now, see here, I've asked half a dozen of the crowd to stay to dinner tonight after the shower, so look after the commissariat, won't you?"

"With pleasure. Who's staying?"

"Oh, Mona and Roger and Elise and Kit Cameron and Phil,—that's all."

"Elise and Kit are pretty good friends, aren't they?"

"Yes, there may be another wedding in the dim future."

"Be careful, Patty. They say 'Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride,' you know."

"Goodness! I must beware. I was bridesmaid for Christine,—and now for Mona,—then, if I'm bridesmaid for Elise, my last hope vanishes! I might be her maid of honor, though. Does that count?"

"Yes, counts just the same. But perhaps you'll be married before Elise. She isn't engaged yet."

"Neither am I."

"Same as."

"Indeed it isn't same as! Philip made me pretty mad down at Lakewood. He scorned my new friends, the Blaneys, and he was most disagreeable about it, too."

"All right. Far be it from me to hasten your matrimonial alliance. I'm only too glad to keep you here. It's lonesome enough, days when you're away."

"Nice old Nan!" and Patty gave her a whirlwind hug that nearly took her off her feet.

Twenty girls were invited to the shower, and Mona arrived first of all. She came bustling in enveloped in furs, which she unfastened and threw off as she talked.

"Everything's going fine!" she announced. "I've attended to the very smallest details myself, so there'll be no mistakes. There always are mistakes and oversights at a wedding and mine is going to be the great exception. My, but I'm tired! I've been chasing about since early this morning. Spent hours with the floral artist, and had a long interview with the caterer. But I confab with him every day. I've changed the menu four times already."

"You're a goose, Mona," observed Patty, smiling at her enthusiastic friend, "what do you care what people eat at your wedding, as long as it's good and proper?"

"My dear child, I only expect to get married once in my checkered career, and so I want everything connected with the occasion to be perfect. I don't want to look back and regret that I didn't have as much of a symphony in the supper as I did in the orchestra. You don't know the responsibility of a girl who has to get married and look after the wedding both. You'll have Mrs. Nan to run the arrangements, but I haven't anybody but little Mona."

The bride-elect looked so radiant and capable and generally happy, that Patty knew better than to waste any sympathy on her.

"You love it all, Mona," she said, "you're just in your element ordering decorations and deciding menus; and I suppose you've superintended the hat-check people and the elevator service."

"Of course I have. I practically run the whole hotel just at present. The management have to take a back seat where anything connected with the fifteenth is concerned."

"It doesn't seem like a wedding at all," laughed Patty. "It is more like a pageant."

"It's a wedding, all right. You'll realise it when you see me go off with Roger. Oh, Patty, don't think I don't realise and appreciate the importance and solemnity of the marriage tie, but I do want the appointments to be perfect and beautiful just because it is my wedding to Roger. We're very much in love, you know–"

"I do know it, Mona, and it's all beautiful, and I'm glad you're having everything just as you want it. You're an old dear, and nobody wishes you more happiness than I do."

"Don't talk in that strain, or I'll weep on your shoulder. I'm all keyed up, you know—honest, Patty, it's pretty awful to have no mother or aunt or anything. Only just a father, who's heavenly kind and generous, but no good for advice or consulting talks."

"All right, Mona girl, we won't indulge in real talk now, for the girls will begin to come in a minute. Go and primp a little, and then come down to the drawing-room."

Patty ran downstairs, Mona soon followed, and then the guests arrived.

In an effort to have a new sort of a shower, Patty had decreed a lace shower, and many and varied were the gifts. As Patty had wisely remarked, lace gave a wide scope. One could choose valuable specimens of real lace or trifling affairs that were pretty and inexpensive.

And so, when the time for their exhibition came the score of merry young people sat breathlessly awaiting the fun.

In the doorway appeared Elise, in the costume of a Brittany peasant. She carried a huge white basket ornamented with orange blossoms and fluttering white ribbons.

"Laces, lady?" she said, approaching Mona. "Nice, pretty laces.

Handiwork of the humble peasants for the grand lady. Accept,—please."

With bows and curtseys, Elise opened the basket and placed it at Mona's feet.

Delightedly, Mona examined the contents, and at each gift a chorus of exclamations went up from all the admiring throng.

Patty's offering was a tablecloth of Filet Antique and Venetian embroidery, and was among the most beautiful in the lot.

Elise gave a berthe of rose point, and Nan a Duchesse lace fan. But most of the gifts were of a simpler nature, and dainty boudoir pillows, table scarfs, bags, caps, and handkerchiefs made up the filmy shower and delighted the heart of the recipient.

Mona was radiant with joy. Although a pampered favourite of fortune, she was especially fond of receiving gifts, and she loved every individual lace confection and warmly thanked the donors.

"The things are heavenly, girls," she cried; "perfectly darling, every one of them! I can't thank you enough, but my heart is just overflowing with honest-to-goodness gratitude. Oh, I do love 'em so!" and gathering the whole lot in her arms, she rocked back and forth in ecstasy. "How did you ever come to think of a lace shower, Patty? I love lace more than anything on earth—except Roger,—and I shall furnish my house with these beauty things. Oh, you are all so good to me!"

Tea was served in the dining-room, and Mona graced the head of the table, with her bridal attendants on either side of her. The place cards and favours were all suggestive of the wedding occasion, and, for a centrepiece, two white doves perched on a basket of white roses.

Mona was in highest spirits and her eyes glistened with pleasure as the girls assured her of their friendship and love, and wished her all sorts of future joy and happiness.

Patty looked at her a little curiously, and then she realised that the girl had lived a loveless life, and that the sudden change to the atmosphere of love and friendship had well-nigh turned her head.

The guests departed, all but Mona and Elise, who were to stay for dinner, and the three chums went up to Patty's room to chat.

"I can't believe these things are really mine," said Mona, as she collected and arranged her laces, preparatory to having them sent home. "Why is everybody so good to me?"

"Oh, come now, Mona," said Elise, laughing, "it isn't such wonderful goodness. People always give things to brides. Patty, if you don't give me a shower like this, I won't get married at all."

"Didn't know you thought of it," returned Patty. "But I'll promise the shower all right. When shall I invite the girls, Elise?"

"Oh, I haven't picked out the bridegroom yet, so there's no hurry. I've got to get used to having my brother married, before I think of it myself. Mona, we'll soon be sisters. Think of that!"

"I've often thought of it, Elise. I've never had a sister, and I shan't know just how to act at first. But I hope–"

"There now, don't get sentimental! Not but what I feel that way, too, but you'll get weepy in a minute,—and then it's all up with you!"

"You're so emotional, Mona," said Patty, smiling at her, "and so capable, and so generally all-round efficient, you're just the one to get married. Now, when it comes my turn, I don't want all this hullabaloo,—I think I shall get a good old rope ladder and elope."

"What! and not have any showers and music and reception and everything?"

"Oh, well, I don't know. We'll see when the time comes. But just now, we must put this affair of yours through. I'm glad there are only a few more days. I couldn't stand this excitement very long. Come on, girls, get ready for dinner. The boys will come soon. There's the bell now. If it's Roger, let Mona go down and see him alone. I'm a fine gooseberry, don't you think so?"

"It is Roger," Patty announced, a moment later, as she leaned over the banister to see, "skip along, Mona, we'll be down in ten minutes."

"Isn't she funny?" said Elise, as Patty returned to her room. "I never saw anybody so crazy."

"She's so excited, she doesn't know whether she's on her head or her heels," agreed Patty. "Her nature is volatile, and she has no sense of moderation. She wants everything and all there is of it. That's all."

"She's a good one for Roger. He's inclined to take things lazily.

Mona will be a sort of spur to him."

"They're all right," agreed Patty. "It's an ideal match. Come on, Elise, we've given them enough time alone."

The girls went down, and then Van Reypen and Kit Cameron appeared.

Dinner was a gay feast, and the elder Fairfields were as much interested in the chatter as the young people.

"Assert yourself, Roger," said Mr. Fairfield. "Don't let these girls monopolize the conversation, with their feminine fripperies and millinery muddles."

"Models, Dad, not muddles," laughed Patty. "But we don't talk about those much now, they're all finished. Oh, Mona, Genevieve's skirt had to be all made over–"

"Oh, no," said her father, "you don't talk about them much! Only all the time, that's all!"

"Let 'em," said Roger, magnanimously; "I've learned in the last few days, that the hang of Genevieve's skirt is a matter of enormous magnitude."

"Good!" cried Patty, "Mona has begun training you already. When is your Bachelor dinner, Roger?"

"Not till Wednesday night. I put it off so Farnsworth could get here."

"Oh, is he coming? I didn't know he was East."

"He wasn't. He's coming on on purpose for the event. I wanted him especially. At least, Mona did."

"All the same," said Mona. "Oh, yes, of course I wanted Big Bill here.

We've been friends for years, and he must dance at my wedding."

It was the first time Patty had seen Van Reypen since her return from Lakewood, and, during the evening, he drew her away from the others and leading her to the semi-privacy of a big davenport in the library, he announced he was going to talk to her.

"Talk away," said Patty, "but I warn you, I've no time or attention for anything not connected with wedding bells."

"But this is connected with wedding bells," and Philip's dark eyes smiled into her own, "only, not Mona's chimes. Our own."

"Don't, Phil," said Patty, gently, noting his serious look and tone. "I've got four days yet till the fifteenth, and,—oh, pshaw, I might as well tell you now, that I'm not going to be engaged to you."

"Patty!" and Van Reypen's face went white. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. I've had so much wedding doings for Mona, I'm sick and tired of it. I don't want to be engaged myself, or hear of anybody else being engaged, until I forget all about all this fuss and feathers."

"There does seem to be an awful lot of fussy feathers, or whatever you call it, about the affair, doesn't there?"

"Yes; and I'm glad to do all I can for Mona. I'm enjoying it, too, but I don't want any wedding of my own for years and years and years."

"By that time you'll be a pretty old bird. You ticked off a goodly number of years just then. But, seriously, Patty, I don't want to bother you–"

"Well, you do bother me. Why, Phil, every single chance you get, you talk about–"

"About my love for you? I mean to, Patty, but you don't give me a chance. When I try to tell you of my love and devotion, you break loose about not wanting to be engaged–"

"Well, of course I do. A girl doesn't want to hear of love and devotion from a man she isn't engaged to, does she?"

"I don't know. I hope so, in this case. That is, I hope I'm the man you're going to be engaged to, and soon, so I can tell you of my love and devotion. They're deep, Patty, deep and true, and–"

"Then why did you treat me so horridly down at Lakewood, just because I enjoyed having to do with people who had some brains and weren't of the silly, addle-pated type we meet mostly in our own class of society?"

"But, Patty, dearest, those Blaneys aren't the real things. They haven't education and genius,—they only pretend they have."

"Phil, I think you're horrid. They have so. Why, Sam Blaney wrote a poem that's the most beautiful thing I ever read!"

"Let me see it."

"I can't. I promised I wouldn't. It's—it's sort of sacred–"

"A sacred poem! Blaney?"

"No, I don't mean religious. But it's sacred to me,—it's—it's a real poem, you see."

"Well, he isn't a real poet, by a long chalk! I did think, Patty, that when you came home from Lakewood you'd forget all that rubbish bunch."

"How you do love to call them names! I don't think it's nice of you, one bit. They're going to be at the wedding, and I hope you'll be decent to them then, as they're my friends."

"Oh, I'll be decent to them, but I shan't have any time to waste on them. I've a matter of my own on hand for that night. A girl I wot of has promised to give me her answer to a question I asked, and, when the time comes, I can't help thinking that that girl is going to be kind to me."

"I dunno," said Patty.

CHAPTER X

MONA'S WEDDING

It was the night of Mona's wedding. The ballroom of the big hotel where Mona and her father lived was the scene of the ceremony, and this was already filled with guests. A temporary altar had been erected at one end of the long room, and was banked with lilies and white hydrangeas against a background of tall palms. On either side were tall candles in cathedral candlesticks.

To the altar led a temporary aisle, formed by stanchions of old silver candelabra filled with ascension lilies, and joined by garlands of white blossoms.

Promptly on time, the bridal cortège appeared. First walked a vested choir singing a processional. Then the bridesmaids, in palest pink tulle frocks, each pair carrying between them a long garland of pink roses, and wearing wreaths of pink roses on their hair.

Patty and Daisy Dow were the first pair, and very lovely they looked as they traversed the flower-hung room. Garlands of pink roses were everywhere, on the walls, from the doorframes and windows, and gracefully drooping from the ceiling. Next came Elise, Maid of Honor, in a gown of slightly deeper pink, and then Mona, her father beside her.

The bride's gown was of point lace with a very long court train of embroidered satin. Her veil, of old lace, was an heirloom from her mother, and was held by a wreath of orange blossoms. Roger's gift of a diamond pendant was her only jewel.

After the ceremony, as the bridal party retraced their steps, the bridesmaids sang softly, "O Perfect Love," and then they took their places for the reception, the orchestra's strains broke forth, and the festivities began. Having no mother or near feminine relative, Mona had asked Nan to receive with her, and very gracefully Nan did the honours.

"A beautiful wedding," everybody said, and then there arrived many more guests who had been asked to the reception only.

The room became crowded and people wandered into the adjoining rooms which were also for the use of the guests.

Patty stood in the line of the bridal party and smiled and chatted with the stream of people who drifted by, murmuring congratulatory phrases. Mona was supremely happy and she looked it. Not only was she married to the man she loved, but the wedding was just such a pageant of beauty and grandeur as she had wished it to be and no smallest item of the preparations had gone wrong. She stood by Roger's side, now and then glancing up into his face with a smile of happiness and contentment.

The bridegroom looked proud and happy. He hadn't cared for so much elaboration of entertainment, but Mona had wanted it, and so he acquiesced in all particulars.

"When will it be all over and we can get away?" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, not for hours," returned his new wife. "There's the feast, and then the dancing,—I don't want to miss a bit of it! Why, Roger, this is our wedding party."

"Yes, I gathered as much! All right, dearest, stay as long as you like."

"It is a pretty wedding, isn't it, Roger? You like it, don't you?"

Mona looked suddenly troubled.

"Of course I do, darling. I like it better than any wedding I ever attended! I've only seen one thing, though,—that's you. Are there other people here?"

"Oh, a few! Three or four hundred, anyway. But where's Bill Farnsworth? I haven't seen him yet."

"He came in late. I just caught sight of him a minute ago. Probably he's trying to get through the crowd to us."

Which was just what Farnsworth was doing. He had arrived during the ceremony, and had not yet made his way to the bridal party.

In fact, he was continually stopped in his progress by acquaintances who greeted him and held him in conversation.

But at last he reached the bride.

"My dear Mona," he cried, "don't look so happy! You dazzle me!"

Mona beamed more joyously than ever, and Roger warmly welcomed Farnsworth.

"Splendid affair," Bill went on. "Looks like Fairyland or some enchanted garden. I was wafted in on the strains of the orchestra, and I can scarcely hold myself down on terra firma. But I mustn't monopolise the prince and princess of this magic realm. I'll try for a few words, later, but now I must make way for the crowd behind me. Oh, how do you do, Patty? How are you? You're looking splendid. And Daisy! Well, it's good to see you again. By the way, Daisy, I saw Lou Standish last week in Arizona. He sent greetings to you."

"Oh, did you, Bill? Did you see Lou? Tell me more about him."

Patty turned aside, her gaiety suddenly gone. What did Bill Farnsworth mean by treating her like that? A blank stare from him would have surprised her no more than those few careless words, flung at her hastily, as if she were the merest acquaintance. She felt as if a bucket of ice water had been splashed on her head and was still trickling down her shoulders.

"Come back, Miss Fairfield," she heard somebody saying gaily, and with a start she realised she had been staring blankly into vacancy so stunned was she by Farnsworth's manner.

It was Sam Blaney who spoke, and as he had taken her hand and still held it, Patty suddenly recovered her poise and spirits.

"Time's up, Mr. Blaney," she laughed. "You have had my hand fully three minutes, and that's the limit. Somebody else may want it."

"Possession is nine points of the law," said Blaney, still retaining her hand.

"But appropriation isn't possession," and Patty gently withdrew her hand from his detaining fingers.

"No, possession must be granted. Perhaps some time–"

"Some time–" Patty assented, smiling, and dismissing Blaney, as more and more people came along.

But at last the reception was over, and the bridal party went to their especial table in the supper room.

Mona, still resplendent in her heavy court train and bridal laces, cut her wedding cake. She had never looked more beautiful. The long reception had tired her a little, but though the animation in her face was not so vivid, there was a lovely radiant light in her eyes, and her smile was gentle and sweet.

"Roger on this side of me," she said, arranging her table, "Dad on this. The rest of you may sit where you like. I've stopped directing this party,—or any other. I've conducted the little affair of this evening to a successful conclusion, and now I resign all generalship and all planning and arranging to my husband. I'm glad to give up all responsibilities, and I'm going to lead a life of leisure while Roger looks after things for me."

"Good little wife!" said Patty. "I foresee happy days and clear sailing under such regulations."

"If you keep it up," laughed Kit Cameron. "You're pretty well tired out now, Mrs. Farrington, but I'm not sure you're going to stand aside always, when matters of importance arise."

"Yes, she will," declared Roger. "You see, I shall rule her with a rod of iron, and she'll be so terrified of me, that she won't dare cross my lightest whim."

They all laughed at this, for Roger had the most easy-going of natures and had never been known to insist upon his own way.

Patty sat between Van Reypen and Kit Cameron, and opposite her, across the table, was Bill Farnsworth, next to Daisy Dow.

His careless, impersonal greeting still rankled in Patty's mind, but, though it both hurt and angered her, she had no intention of showing her feelings. So, she went to the other extreme and was madly gay and merry, laughing and jesting with everybody and enjoying herself to the utmost.

She looked adorable. The pale pink of her bridesmaid costume was most becoming and her wreath of pink roses, which had slipped a little to one side, gave her the effect of a Queen Titania. Her eyes were like two blue stars, and a pink flush showed on her cheeks, while her scarlet lips smiled or pouted with her changing moods.

"Did you ever see such colouring as that girl has!" murmured Daisy Dow to Farnsworth. "I never saw such truly gold hair, or such blue blue eyes, or such a wonderful complexion."

Daisy spoke whole-heartedly and generously, for she loved Patty, and she thought her the prettiest girl she knew.

"She is pretty," agreed Farnsworth. "Tell me about her,—about all the crowd. I've been away a month and lots can happen in that time. Is Patty engaged to Van Reypen?"

"It isn't announced," said Daisy, "but I think she really is. I shouldn't be surprised if they announce it tonight, after Mona goes away."

"Fine chap, Van Reypen. How about the others? Kit and Elise?"

"Yes, I think so. Though that isn't announced either. Goodness, Bill, suppose they all get engaged and married and leave me to be the only old maid in our set!"

"No fear of that, Daisy. Unless you prefer it so,—and I hope you won't."

"You hope that! Why, Bill, if I thought you hoped it–"

Just then a commotion arose as Mona left the table.

"Ready, girls," she cried out. "I'm going to toss my bouquet. Hold out your hands, all of you."

Obediently, her bridesmaids stood in a row, with their hands held out. There was no question of catching the flowers, for Mona after deliberately looking over the lot, tossed it into Patty's hands. "For you," she said, and, laughing, ran away.

"Greatness thrust upon me!" Patty laughed, looking at the great bunch of white orchids and valley lilies, with its fluttering tendrils and ends of ribbon. "Must I really live up to this favour? Must I really be a bride myself before the year is up? Of course, if it is obligatory–"

She looked up, half shy, and caught Van Reypen's gaze upon her. She turned toward Farnsworth, but he was looking another way. Plucking one stem of lilies of the valley from the bunch she tossed it to Phil, who caught it, kissed it, and put it in his buttonhole. Farnsworth looked round just in time to see the act, and smiled at her.

"Didn't mean anything," said Patty, perversely, and then, pulling out half a dozen more sprays, she threw them indiscriminately around, to Cameron, and several of the other ushers who were grouped about. Farnsworth made a slight effort to catch one, but he didn't really try, and the flower fell to the floor just beyond his reach. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, but made no move to pick it up.

Just then Sam Blaney came along, and Patty offered him a flower, and herself adjusted it in his buttonhole.

"I'm crazy to talk to you," he said, "but I didn't belong at your supper table. Can't we go somewhere and have a bit of a chat?"

"Yes," agreed Patty, "only not too far away from the bride's crowd. Mona will be going away soon, and I must see her go, of course. Didn't she look beautiful?"

"Not in comparison with somebody else I know."

"I'm a mind reader, Mr. Blaney, and I perceive you mean me. But you're mistaken. I'm pretty, in a doll-faced way, but Mona is really beautiful."

"You know where beauty is, Miss Fairfield. In the eye of the beholder."

"Let me see. Yes," after she had looked straight into Blaney's eyes, "yes, you have beauty in your eyes."

"The reflection of your face," he replied, serenely. "You are a flower-face; I never saw any one who so well merited the term. I must write a sonnet to Flower Face."

"It can't be any better poetry than the verses you wrote to me at Lakewood. They are exquisite. Mayn't I show them?"

"Please not. I fancied you would like to keep them just for yourself.

Stay, I have a better name for you. Flower Soul, that's what you are.

That shall be the theme of my sonnet. I think your soul is made of white lilac."

"Why do you people always talk about souls?" asked Patty, gaily. "You don't mean souls really, you know; you mean—well, what do you mean?"

"No, we don't mean souls in the theological sense, we mean the higher understanding and finer sensations."

"Oh," said Patty, not much enlightened.

"And you are coming to see us soon, aren't you? Alla said you promised her you would."

"Yes, I did. And I will come. Do you have regular meetings, like a club,—or what?"

"Yes, like a club, but not on set dates. I'll let you know when the next one—or, stay, I know now. There will be a gathering at our place next Tuesday night. Will you attend? May I come and fetch you?"

"Yes, do, I'd love to be there. Gracious, here comes Mona. I must be with the others."

Patty hurried across the room to stand with the bridal attendants, and, looking very handsome in her travelling costume, Mona bade them good-bye. There was no mad scramble as the bride and groom departed, but flower petals and confetti were showered on them, which they good-naturedly allowed.

"Come along, my lady," said Roger, at last, as Mona delayed to talk to the girls.

And then they went away, and some of the guests stayed to dance a little longer.

"Come, Patty," said Van Reypen, as the orchestra struck up, "this is our dance."

Patty assented, and they went gliding over the perfect floor.

Philip said nothing while they danced, and Patty, too, was silent.

This was unusual, for Patty generally chattered as she danced.

"Tired, dear?" said Philip, at last.

"A little. It has been a long evening."

"And a strenuous one. I saw you were getting weary as you stood in that line of receiving so long. Come, let us sit down."

Philip guided her to a pleasant settee, screened by tall palms, and seated himself beside her.

"Poor little girl," he said, "you're all done up. You must go home soon, Patty. You can't dance any more tonight."

"Oh, yes, I can. I'm not really tired. It's more excitement and–"

"And nerves. I know,—Mona getting married means a lot to you. You're very intimate friends, aren't you?"

"Yes; and as she has no mother, Nan and I have tried to do all we could for her, but she is so capable, we couldn't do much, after all."

"No; I suppose not. Patty, why did she give you her bouquet? I thought brides threw them, and any one caught them that could."

"They do, usually."

"Well, then, why didn't Mona?"

"Oh, because,—oh, I don't know."

"You do know, Patty. Was it because she thinks you will be the next bride of your set? Because she thinks you will marry—me?"

Phil's eyes were radiant, and his voice trembled as he whispered, "And will you, dear? Will you, my little Patty? You promised, you know, to tell me tonight. So, tell me,—and tell me,—yes."

Patty sat up very straight and looked at him. "Philip," she said, and her voice was serious; "if I have to decide now, it will be No. I did say I'd tell you tonight, and I meant to, but I'm all tired and bothered, and if I'm not careful, I shall cry! So, if you hold me to my promise, I'll answer you now, but it will be No. I can't say Yes,—tonight."

"Then don't say anything. I'll wait, dearest. Oh, Patty, of course, I'll wait. You are exhausted and nervous and you want to rest. Don't answer me now, dear, for I don't want that answer you spoke of! Let's wait a week or so longer, and then make up our mind. Shall us?"

"Yes, Phil, and thank you for being so good to me."