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CHAPTER XVII

PATTY'S DECISION

"You see, Nan, it isn't fair. I don't feel honest to keep Phil in uncertainty, when I don't think—no, I really don't think I'm going to marry him."

"But good gracious, Patty, you ought to know by this time! Either you care for him or you don't."

"Nan, I've only learned of late that when people say 'care for' they mean love. I think it's a silly phrase,—why, I care for lots of things–"

"There are a good many things you've only learned of late, Patty, and a good many more you've still to learn. But I really think you ought to make up your mind about Phil Van Reypen."

"Well, amn't I making it up as fast as I can? I'm going right at it now, in dead earnest, and you've got to help me."

Nan smiled at the anxious face that looked into her own.

They were in Patty's boudoir, the morning after the Christmas party. A breakfast tray, with contents only partly demolished, was pushed away, as the importance of the discussion made food seem an intrusive factor.

Patty's cap was askew on her hastily knotted-up curls, and she gathered about her the voluminous folds of a billowy, blue silk affair, that was her latest acquisition in the way of négligées.

"My child," said Nan, "you have given yourself away. If you want any help in making up your mind, you are not in love with that young man. You don't 'care for' him, in the technical sense of the term."

"But he's very nice, Nancy. He's a big-hearted, fine-minded–"

"Upstanding, clean-cut American gentleman. Let me help you out. Yes, Patty, he's all those things and more. But if you don't love him you mustn't marry him. You're old enough to know your own mind."

"I'm not such an ancient!"

"Don't be silly! You're nearly twenty-one–"

"Just twenty and a half."

"Well, all right, twenty and a half. But that's not like seventeen.

You're young for your years, I think. But anyway, you've seen enough of men to know if Phil Van Reypen is 'Lord of your life,—your King,—your Star!' Is he?"

"Not much he isn't! Why, Nan, he's an awfully nice chap, but no 'Philip, My King!' There, you see I can quote poetry as well as you.

Oh, Nan, Bill Farnsworth knows an awful lot about poetry! Would you think he would?"

"Now, Patty, keep to the subject in hand. Fred and I both think you ought to be engaged to Philip, or else tell him you won't be. It isn't fair to him, to act as you do."

"I know it, you angel stepmother, and so, I'm going to decide, right now,—with much quickness. Heigho! Which shall it be? Patty Van Reypen,—or stay an old maid all my life."

"Oh, I dare say there are others. You may possibly have another chance at matrimony."

"Nan," and Patty turned suddenly grave, "I don't like that—a chance at matrimony. I mean, if one gets engaged, it ought to be to a man she loves so much that she doesn't think of it as a 'chance.' It ought to be the one and only."

"Why, that's just what I'm trying to say, dear. Now, is Phil the one and only?"

"No, ma'am. Not by no manner of means, he isn't. Nixie, he is not!"

"That mass of negatives sounds rather conclusive to me. So, with that as a premise, I'm going to advise you, even urge you to tell him so with unmistakable definiteness."

"But, Nan, it makes him feel so bad."

"That is the trouble, Patty. Every true woman hates to disappoint the man who truly loves her. And Phil adores you. His love is deep and sincere. He would make you very happy—if you loved him. If not, it would only mean unhappiness for you both. And, so, it is really kinder to him to tell him so frankly and let him give up any false hopes."

"I know it, and I'm going to do it. But I don't know just how. You see, Nan, he is so persistent,—and in such a nice, kind way. When I tell him that, he'll only say that he won't consider it final, and we'll wait and see. Then the argument begins all over again."

"And so, I tell you, at the risk of repeating myself, that you must make up your own mind positively first; then, if an adverse decision, you must tell him, so positively that he can't misunderstand. Then, if he refuses to give up all hope, it isn't your fault."

"That's good, sound talk, Nan, and I will try to do just as you say. But—well, here's the thing in a nutshell. I like Phil so much that I hate to tell him I can't love him."

"Then get that out of the nutshell, and put this in. If you like him so much, it's your duty to tell him you can't love him. Heavens, Patty, have you no idea of other people's rights?"

"I don't believe I have, Nan. I'm a spoiled child, I admit it. You and Dad spoil me, and all my friends do, too. I'm made to believe that the sun rises and sets in silly little Patty Fairfield, and it has made me a vain, conceited, selfish, insufferable Pig! That's what it has done!"

"Oh, Patty, you little idiot! Nothing of the sort. You're,—since you doubtless meant to be contradicted,—you're a dear thing, and there isn't a selfish bone in your body. If people adore you, it's because of your sunny, sweet nature, and your absolute thoughtfulness and kindness to others. Don't be foolish that way. But regarding this matter of Philip, I know you see it as I do. And it's really your kind heart and your dislike of hurting anybody's feelings that makes you hate so to tell him what you must tell him."

"Yes, Nan, I must tell him. I know it myself. I know that I like him lots, and I'd be awfully sorry not to be friends with him, but I don't want to marry him."

"Do you want to marry anybody else?"

"I hardly know how to answer that. I suppose every girl would rather be married than not, if it's to just the right man. But one thing is certain, Philip isn't the right man."

Patty sighed, and the far-away look in her eyes made Nan wonder if there was a "right man" whose image was enshrined in the girl's heart. But she only said, "Then, dear, tell him so."

"I will," said Patty, but she looked very serious and troubled over it.

However, she did tell him so. When Van Reypen called that evening Patty answered his plea with a decisive No. She was very gentle and kindly, but she gave him no ray of hope, no suggestion of a change of decision.

Philip took it gravely, but was unwilling to admit it was final. He knew from Patty's demeanour that she meant it to be, but he hoped he could yet win her by further devotion and patience. She told him this was impossible, but he only smiled and expressed his determination to try it.

"I take your word for it, dear," he said. "I know you mean just what you say, that you don't love me enough to give yourself to me. And I won't urge you, or tease you. Just let me remain your friend, and let me see you, occasionally. I promise not to intrude when I'm not wanted. And though I expect nothing, there's no law against hoping, you know."

Phil's winsome smile was so cheery and yet so wistful, that Patty's heart was touched anew. But she said, "It must be just friends, Phil. I like you lots, you know that, but I can't be always fearful that–"

"That I'll break loose and become unmanageable! You needn't, dear. I promise to abide by your decision, unless I can make you want to change it. Now, forget it all, for the present, and let's be friends and chums and comrades and all those nice things, that don't bother curly-headed little girls and make them look troubled and sad. But, I want to thank you and bless you, dear, for your sweet kindliness to me. Why, you might have sent me flying about my business with nothing more than a curt No. I'm glad you didn't do that!"

"I don't treat my friends like that," and Patty smiled, relieved that the ordeal was practically over. "Now, will you help us with the House Sale?"

"In a minute! But tell me what house is to be sold?"

"Oh, no, we don't sell any house. It's really a sort of Bazaar, but instead of holding it in a hall or any big place, we have it in a house,—this house, in fact."

"Here?"

"Yes, next week. It's a horrid nuisance,—the getting ready and clearing up afterward, I mean,—but we want to make money for the library of our working girls' club."

"Let me give you the money you'd make, and then don't have the Bazaar thing."

"You're awfully good, Phil, and I'd like to do that. But it wouldn't work. The Club would just take your contribution and then go calmly on and have a Bazaar or something beside."

"But it would let you out. You needn't have it here."

"That would be selfish. I'm too selfish as it is. No, I'll have the sale here. Of course, the committee will help, and all that, but well, you know what committees are."

"Yes, they let the chairman do everything and then they criticise. And I'll bet you're chairman, aren't you?"

"Yes," Patty laughed. "How you do catch on! But I'm not shifting responsibility. Indeed, I'd rather do it all, if I could do it my own way. But they all tell me what to do, and then whatever's wrong is my fault."

"I know. All committees are like that. Well, just do the best you can and let me help all I can. Is there much I can do?"

"Why, yes, I think so. At least there will be on the day of the Sale.

Come round then and we'll set you to work."

"Glad to. What is to be sold? Can't I buy some things?"

"Yes, indeed. It's a novel sale, in this way: There are wares all over the house. In the library we'll sell books, and in the dining-room, food, and, also, china and glass and fancy linens."

"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.