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CHAPTER XVIII
BACK TO NEW YORK
Farnsworth was right. There was no extra before supper, and the guests were even now flocking to the supper-room.
Philip came toward them, looking for Patty, his mask already off.
“Oh, can we really take them off now?” cried Patty. “I’m so glad. They’re horridly uncomfortable. I’ll never wear one again. I love a fancy dress party, but I don’t see any sense in a masquerade.”
She took off her mask as she spoke, and her pretty face was flushed pink and her hair was curling in moist ringlets about her temples.
Farnsworth looked down on her as he removed his own mask. “Apple Blossom!” he exclaimed again, and the comparison was very apt, for the pink and white of Patty’s face was just the color of the blossoms.
Then the two men looked at each other, and Patty suddenly realised that they had never met.
“Oh, you don’t know each other, do you?” she exclaimed. “And you my two best friends! Mr. Farnsworth, this is Mr. Van Reypen. And now, which of you is going to take me to supper?”
As each offered an arm at once, Patty accepted both, and walked out demurely between the two big men. The men were exceedingly polite and courteous, but each was annoyed at the other’s presence. As a matter of fact, Farnsworth had chanced to overhear a few words that Philip said to Patty a short time before. It was by merest chance that King Lear and Zenobia had walked by just as Philip was asking Patty to give him more than friendship. Zenobia, uninterested in the two under the palms, didn’t even hear the words; but Farnsworth, who had found out from Jim Kenerley all the members of the house party, had scarcely taken his eyes from Little Bo-Peep since he arrived at the ball. With no intention of eavesdropping, he had followed her about, hoping to get a chance to see her first alone. He managed this only with Kenerley’s help, and meantime he had discovered that Van Reypen was very seriously interested in Little Bo-Peep.
Philip himself knew little of Farnsworth, save for a few chance remarks he had heard at the Kenerleys’, but he realised at once that Patty and the big Westerner were great friends, if nothing more.
However, the three went to supper together, and joined the group in which they were most interested.
Great was the surprise of Daisy and Mona when Patty appeared with Mr. Farnsworth.
Big Bill was in the merriest of spirits. He greeted everybody heartily, he joked and laughed, and was at his most entertaining best. Patty was very proud of him, for without his mask he looked very handsome as King Lear, and his stalwart figure seemed to dwarf the other men.
After supper he claimed Patty for the promised dance.
“Would you rather dance with King Lear?” he said, smiling, “with all these heavy velvet draperies bothering us, or shall I go and shed this robe, and just be plain Bill?”
Patty looked at him, thoughtfully. “We’d have a better dance if you took off that flapping robe. But then, of course, you’d have to take off your wigs and things, and you wouldn’t be half so beautiful.”
“Well, then, don’t let’s dance, but just stroll around and talk. And there’s another reason why I’d rather keep on my wig and wreath.”
“What’s that?”
“Because the wreath means that I am mad.”
“Mad at me?”
“Oh, not that kind of mad! I mean crazy, demented, loony,—what was the old King, anyway?”
“A little touched?”
“Yes, that’s it; and so, you see, he could say anything he wanted to. You know, people forgive crazy people, no matter what they say.”
“Are you going to say crazy things to me?”
“Very likely; you’ve completely turned my head.”
“Do you know, I didn’t even know King Lear ever went crazy,” said Patty in an endeavour to change the subject.
“Why, fie, fie, Little Girl, I thought you knew your Shakespeare; but I suppose you’re too busy socially to read much poetry.”
“I read one poem this winter that I liked,” said Patty, demurely.
“Did you? What was it?”
“It came to me in a blue envelope.”
“It did! Why, Patty, Jim told me you never got that.”
“Jim is mistaken; I did get it.”
“And did you like it?”
“Where did you get it, Bill?”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes, I liked it lots. Who wrote it?”
“I did.”
“Did you, really? You clever man! I thought possibly you might have done it, but it sounded so,—so finished.”
“Oh, no, it didn’t, Patty. It was crude and amateurish; but it was written to you and about you, so I did the best I could. Patty, are you in love with Van Reypen?”
“What!” and Patty stood still and looked at Farnsworth, indignantly. “You have no right to ask such a question!”
“I know I haven’t, Patty, and I apologise. I can’t seem to get over my Western bluntness. And, Little Girl, I don’t blame you a bit if you do care for him. He’s a good-looking chap, and an all-round good man.”
“You seem to have sized him up pretty quickly. Why, you’ve only just met him.”
“Yes, but you know I was at the Kenerleys’ last week, and Jim told me all about him.”
“Why did you want to know all about him?”
“Shall I tell you why?” And Farnsworth’s blue eyes looked straight into Patty’s own. “I inquired about him, because Daisy said you were just the same as engaged to him.”
“Daisy said that, did she?” Patty rarely lost her temper, but this unwarranted speech of Daisy Dow’s made her exceedingly angry. But what hurt her even more, was that Bill should believe Daisy’s assertion, and should take it so calmly. His attitude piqued Patty; and she said, coldly: “Well, if Daisy says so, it must be so.”
“I know it, Little Girl,” and Farnsworth’s voice was very tender. “He can give you everything that you ought to have,—wealth, social position, and a life of luxury and pleasure. Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman and a true man. I hope you will be very happy with him, Patty.”
For some reason this speech exasperated Patty beyond all measure. It seemed as if her friends were settling her affairs for her, without giving her any voice in the decision. “You are a little premature, Bill,” she said, without a smile. “I’m not engaged to Mr. Van Reypen, and I do not know that I shall be.”
“Oh, yes, you will, Patty; but don’t be hasty, dear child. Think it over before you decide, for you know there are other things in the world beside wealth and social position.”
“What, for instance?” said Patty, in a flippant tone.
“Love,” said Farnsworth, very seriously.
And then Patty was moved by a spirit of perversity. She thought that if Farnsworth really cared for her, he was handing her over to Philip very easily, and she resented this attitude.
“Are you implying that Mr. Van Reypen is not capable of giving me love, as well as the other advantages you enumerate?”
“No, Patty, I am not implying anything of the sort. I only know that you are too young yet to be engaged to anybody, and I wish for your own sake you would wait,—at least until you are perfectly sure of your own affections. But if they are given to Mr. Van Reypen, I shall be glad for you that you have chosen so wisely.”
Patty looked at Farnsworth in amazement. Remembering what he had said to her last summer, it was strange to hear him talk this way. She could not know that the honest, big-hearted fellow was breaking his own heart at the thought of losing her; but that he unselfishly felt that Van Reypen, as a man of the world, was more fitting for pretty Patty than himself. He knew he was Western, and different from Patty’s friends and associates, and he was so lacking in egotism or in self-conceit that he couldn’t recognise his own sterling merits. And, too, though he was interested in some mining projects, they had not yet materialised, and he did not yet know whether the near future would bring him great wealth, or exactly the reverse of fortune.
But Patty couldn’t read his heart, and she was disappointed and piqued at his manner and words. Without even a glance into his earnest eyes, she said: “Thank you, Bill, for your advice; I know it is well meant, and I appreciate it. Please take me back to Philip now.”
Farnsworth gave her a pained look, but without a word turned and led her back to the group they had left.
Philip was waiting there, and Patty, to hide the strange hurt she felt in her own heart, was exceedingly kind in her manner toward him.
“Our dance, Philip,” she said, gaily, and though it hadn’t been engaged, Philip was only too glad to get it.
Soon afterward, the ball was over, and they all went home. As Patty came from the cloak room, wrapped in her fur coat, Philip stepped up to her in such a possessive way, that Farnsworth, who had also been waiting for her, turned aside.
“That’s a foregone conclusion,” said Jim Kenerley to Farnsworth, as he glanced at Patty and Philip.
“Nonsense,” said Adèle. “Patty isn’t thinking of conclusions yet. But I must say it would be a very satisfactory match.”
“Yes, Mr. Van Reypen seems to be a fine fellow,” agreed Farnsworth.
When they reached home, Patty said good-night, declaring she was weary enough to go straight to bed at once.
“Will you come down again later, if you’re hungry?” said Philip, smiling at the recollection of Christmas Eve.
“No,” and Patty flashed her dimples at him; and knowing that Farnsworth was listening, she added, “There’s no moonlight to-night!”
“Moonlight does help,” said Philip. “Good-night, Little Bo-Peep.”
“Good-night, Bobby Shafto,” and Patty started upstairs, then turned, and holding out her hand to Farnsworth, said “Good-night, King Lear; shall I see you in the morning?”
“No; I leave on the early train,” said Farnsworth, abruptly. “Good-night, Patty, and good-bye.”
He turned away, toward Daisy, and Patty went on upstairs.
Farnsworth had spoken in a kind voice, but Patty knew that he had heard what she and Philip had said about coming down in the moonlight.
“I think he’s a horrid, mean old thing!” said Patty to herself, when she reached her own room. “His manners are not half as good as Philip’s, and he’s rude and unkind, and I just hate him!”
Whereupon, as if to prove her words, she took from her portfolio the poem in the blue envelope, and read it all over again; and then put it under her pillow and went to sleep.
A few days later Patty was back in New York. She gave her father and Nan glowing accounts of the delightful times she had had at Fern Falls and the jollities of a country house party in the winter time. She told them all about the pleasant people she had met up there, about her experience at Mrs. Fay’s, and about Farnsworth’s flying visits.
“I’d like to meet that man,” said Nan. “I think he sounds attractive, Patty.”
“He is attractive,” said Patty, frankly; “but he’s queer. You never know what mood he’s going to be in. Sometimes he’s awfully friendly, and then again he gets huffy over nothing.”
“I’m afraid you tease him, Patty,” said her father, smiling at her. “You’re getting to be such a popular young person that I fear you’re getting spoiled.”
“Not Patty,” said Nan, kindly. “Go ahead, my child, and have all the fun you can. The young men all adore you, and I don’t wonder.”
“Why, Nancy Bell, how complimentary you are!” and Patty gave her stepmother an affectionate pat.
“But now,” said Mr. Fairfield, “if I may have the floor for a minute, I’d like to make an announcement. We have a plan, Patty, which we made while you were away, and which I hope will meet with your approval.”
“As if I ever disapproved of any of your plans, my dear daddy. Consider my approval granted before you begin.”
“Well, it’s this: I think Nan is looking a little bit pale, and I feel a trifle pale myself, so I think we two will run away down South for a fortnight or so, and leave you here.”
“Alone?” asked Patty, in surprise.
“Well, no; hardly that. But how would you like to have Mrs. Allen, Nan’s mother, come and stay with you?”
“I think that will be lovely,” exclaimed Patty. “I’m awfully fond of Mrs. Allen, and I haven’t seen her for a long time.”
“She’s not a very sedate matron,” said Nan, laughing. “I dare say she’ll keep you on the go, Patty. She’s fond of opera and concerts, and she likes gaiety. But father will come over for the week-ends, and look after you both.”
Nan’s parents lived in Philadelphia, and as they had just returned from a trip abroad, the Fairfields hadn’t seen them lately. But it had seemed to them that the arrangement they had planned would be satisfactory all round, for Mrs. Allen liked to spend a few weeks in New York each winter.
About a week later the elder Fairfields departed, and Mrs. Allen arrived.
She was a fine-looking lady of a youthful middle age, and looked forward with pleasure to her visit with Patty.
“Now, you mustn’t let me be a burden to you in any way, my dear,” Mrs. Allen said, after the two were left alone. “Whenever I can help you, or whenever you want a chaperon, I’m entirely at your service; but when I’m not necessary to your plans, don’t consider me at all,—and don’t think about entertaining me, for I can look after myself. I’m never lonely or bored.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Allen,” said Patty. “I’m sure we shall get on most beautifully together, and anything you want or want to do, I want you to give your own orders, just as if you were in your own home.”
And so the two had many pleasant times together. They went to matinées, teas, and concerts, to picture exhibitions, and to card parties. Mrs. Allen did not care for dances, but went gladly when it was a party where Patty required a chaperon.
All of the young people liked Mrs. Allen, and she became well acquainted with all of Patty’s friends.
Bill Farnsworth was still in New York. His plans were uncertain, and often changed from day to day, owing to various details of his business.
He called on Patty occasionally, but not often, and his calls were short and formal.
“I like that big Western chap,” Mrs. Allen said to Patty one day; “but he seems preoccupied. Sometimes he sits as if in a brown study, and says nothing for quite some minutes. And then, when you speak to him, he answers abruptly, as if bringing his mind back from faraway thoughts.”
“I daresay he’s very much wrapped up in his business, Mrs. Allen,” said Patty. “They say he’s trying to swing a big mining proposition,—whatever that means.”
“It may mean a great many things,” said Mrs. Allen, thoughtfully. “I hope he’s all right, Patty.”
“All right! Big Bill Farnsworth all right? Well, I rather guess he is!”
“There, there,” and Mrs. Allen laughed. “You needn’t take up the cudgels so desperately. I didn’t mean to accuse him of anything.”
“No, of course you didn’t,” and Patty laughed, too; “but whatever big Bill may lack in the way of polish or culture, he’s absolutely honest and honourable, even to an absurd degree.”
“I don’t think he lacks culture, Patty. His manners are all right.”
“Yes, they’re all right, but he hasn’t quite the correct ease of a man like Philip Van Reypen.”
“I know what you mean, and I suppose it’s the effect of the aristocratic Van Reypen ancestry. But Mr. Farnsworth has such a splendid big air of real nobility about him that I think a more formal and conventional demeanour would quite spoil him.”
“Maybe it would,” said Patty, simply.
That very afternoon Farnsworth came to call, and told Patty he had come to say good-bye.
“I know you think my farewells never mean anything,” he said, smiling; “and I don’t wonder, for I often say I am going, and then a telegram obliges me to change my plan. But I think it is positive this time that I shall leave to-night for Arizona.”
“Have you been successful in your undertakings?” asked Patty, with a sympathetic interest.
“Yes, I believe I have. I don’t want to be over sanguine, and matters are not yet entirely settled, but I think I have conquered the obstacles which I came to conquer, and I hope all will go well.”
“I hope so, Little Billee,” said Patty, looking at him with earnest good will. “I want you to succeed.”
“Thank you for that,” said Farnsworth, simply.
“And when are you coming East again?”
“I can’t tell; I may have to come back in February; but if that is not necessary, I shall not come for a year or more. You will be married and settled by that time.”
“Indeed, I shan’t! In fact, I’ve about made up my mind that I’ll never marry anybody.”
“Girls have said that before, and been known to change their minds. But whatever you do, I wish you all happiness and joy throughout your whole life,—Little Apple Blossom.”
Farnsworth had risen to go, and he held Patty’s hands in both his, as he looked straight into her eyes.
Patty’s own eyes fell beneath his gaze, and she said, “And I wish you happiness wherever you are, Little Billee.”
“Thank you, dear,” he said, and then with a final handclasp he went away.
CHAPTER XIX
AN EXCITING CHASE
Farnsworth had left Patty about two o’clock, and it was only a few moments later that her telephone rang.
Her response was answered by a tearful, wailing voice, that said, “Oh, Miss Patty, oh, can’t you come here at once? Come right away!”
“Come where? Who are you?” said Patty, bewildered, for she did not recognise the voice, and it sounded like some one in deep distress.
“Oh, don’t wait a minute! Every moment is precious! Just come at once!”
“But how can I come, if I don’t know who you are? I can help you better, if you’ll control yourself and tell me something about yourself and your trouble. First of all, who are you?”
“I’m Anne, Miss Galbraith’s maid. You know me, Miss Patty. Oh, come quick; Miss Mona has gone!”
“Gone! Where? Now, listen to me, Anne! Stop your crying, and tell me what you mean, and then I will go to you at once. Where are you? And where has Miss Mona gone?”
“I’m in her apartment, and I don’t like to tell you over the telephone where she’s gone. But,—Miss Patty,—I think,—Oh, I fear,—she has eloped with Mr. Lansing!”
The last sentence came in an explosive burst, as if the girl could keep her secret no longer.
“What!” exclaimed Patty. And then, suddenly realising that it was a desperate situation, she said, “Don’t say another word, Anne! I will go right straight to you. Stay there till I come.”
She knew the excitable character of the girl, and feared she might get hysterical if she talked further over the telephone. Patty hung up the receiver, and sat still for a moment, thinking deeply.
“I won’t tell Mrs. Allen,” she finally decided, “but I must have some one to help me,—to go with me. I believe I’ll call up Roger.”
But she couldn’t bear to do that. It seemed too dreadful to tell Roger what had happened. She thought next of Kenneth, who was a standby as a loyal friend, but he was far downtown in his office, and might be busy with an important case.
“Philip, of course,” she said to herself; but even with her hand on the receiver, another thought flashed through her mind. “No one could help me to save Mona like Big Bill!” she thought, and on a sudden impulse she called up his hotel.
“Bill,—it’s Patty,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Yes, dear; what is it? What is the matter?”
The kind, quiet voice, with its deep tones of sympathy and capability, made Patty realise that she had appealed to the right one. “Oh, Bill,” she went on, “there’s awful trouble, and you must help me.”
“Of course I will, Little Girl! Steady now; tell me what it’s all about. Do you want me to come there?”
“But you’re just starting for the West,” cried Patty, as she remembered this for the first time.
“That doesn’t matter, if you want me. I’ll be right over.”
“And wait a minute; tell me what you think we ought to do. I’ve heard from Anne that Mona is eloping with that awful Lansing man!”
“Then there’s no time to be lost! Take your little car, and go to The Plaza as fast as you can spin! I’ll meet you there, in the Galbraiths’ apartment.”
Bill hung up the receiver, without even a good-bye, and Patty gave a little sigh of relief, for it seemed as if he had taken the responsibility from her shoulders, and would manage the matter himself. She ordered her car, flung on her hat and coat, and with a hasty word to Mrs. Allen that she was going out, she drove her little electric herself down to the hotel.
When she entered the Galbraiths’ apartment, she found Farnsworth already there.
“It’s true,” he said, looking at her with a grave face. “That is, I think it must be. Mona went away half an hour ago, and took a suit case with her. She went in a motor with Mr. Lansing. Anne is worried, because this morning she overheard the two telephoning.”
“I wasn’t listening, Miss Patty,” said the tearful maid. “That is, I didn’t mean to, but Miss Mona was excited like, and her voice was so loud I couldn’t help hearing.”
“I’m glad you did, Anne,” said Patty, “it may help us to save Miss Mona yet. What else can you tell us?”
“Nothing, except that Miss Mona left a note on her father’s desk, and I thought maybe it might be to tell him she had gone.”
Big Bill strode over to the desk, and there, under a paperweight, lay a note, addressed to Mr. Galbraith. He picked it up, and looked at it, thoughtfully.
“Patty,” he said, “this isn’t sealed. Considering all things, I think it is our duty to read it, but you know more about such matters than I do. What do you think?”
Patty hesitated. She had always thought it little less than a crime to read a note addressed to another, but the circumstances made this case seem an exception. “We might telephone to Mr. Galbraith and ask his permission,” she suggested.
But Big Bill seemed suddenly to have made up his mind.
“No!” he declared, “I’ll take the responsibility of this thing. To telephone would frighten Mr. Galbraith, and would delay matters too much, beside. I shall read this note, and if I can’t square my action with Mr. Galbraith afterward, I’ll accept the consequences.”
The impressive manner of the big man, his stern, set face, and honest, determined blue eyes convinced Patty that he was right, and together they read the note.
In it, as they had feared, Mona told her father that she was going away to marry Mr. Lansing, because her father would not allow her to marry him otherwise. She expressed regret at the sorrow she knew this would bring to her father, but she said she was old enough to decide for herself whom she wished to marry, and she felt sure that after it was over he would forgive her, and call his two children back to him.
“Mona never wrote that note of her own accord,” exclaimed Patty, indignantly. “That man made her do it!”
“Of course he did!” agreed Bill, in a stern voice. “I know Lansing,—and, Patty, the man is a scoundrel.”
“You know him? I didn’t know you did.”
“Yes, I do! And I ought to have warned Mona more against him. I did tell her what his real nature is, but she wouldn’t listen, and I never dreamed she was so deeply infatuated with him. But we mustn’t blame her, Patty. She was simply under the influence of that man, and he persuaded her to go with him against her better judgment. But we must go after them and bring them back.”
“But you’re going West to-night.”
“Not unless we rescue Mona first! Why, Patty, she mustn’t be allowed to marry that man! I tell you he’s a scoundrel, and I never say that about a man unless I know it to be true. But this is no time to discuss Lansing. We must simply fly after them.”
“But how do you know where they’ve gone?”
“I don’t know! But we must find out, somehow. Perhaps the men at the door can tell us. Perhaps Anne can.”
“I only know this, sir,” said Anne, who was wringing her hands and weeping; “when Miss Mona was telephoning, she said something about Greenwich.”
“Of course!” cried Bill. “That’s exactly where they’d go! But wait, they would have to go for a license first.”
“Telephone the license man,” said Patty, inspired by Bill’s manner and tones.
“Right-O!” and after some rather troublesome telephoning, Bill announced, “They did! they got a license, and they started in a motor for Greenwich about half an hour ago! Come on, Patty! Anne, you stay right here, in case we telephone. If Mr. Galbraith comes home, don’t tell him a word about it. Leave it to me. I’ll be responsible for this note.” Bill put the note in his pocket, and almost pushing Patty out of the door, he had her in the elevator and downstairs almost before she knew it.
“Shall we take my little car?” she asked, as Bill strode through the lobby, and Patty hurried to keep up with him.
“Good Heavens, no! We want a racer. I’ll drive it myself.”
By the power of sheer determination, the big Western man procured a fast car in an incredibly short time, and in a few moments he and Patty were flying up Broadway.
“Now if you want to talk you may,” said Bill, and his voice was quiet and composed, though he was alertly threading his swift way through the traffic. “I had to be a little short with you while we were hurrying off, because I didn’t want to lose a minute. But now, all I have to do is to keep just inside the speed limit while we’re in the city, and then I rather guess there’ll be one big chase!”
“Oh, Bill, you are just splendid!” exclaimed Patty, with shining eyes, unable to repress her admiration of his capability and strength.
“But we haven’t accomplished anything yet, Patty; we’re only starting out to try. You know, it’s a hundred to one shot that we miss them,—for we’ve very little idea where they’ve gone.”
“But it’s a straight road to Greenwich.”
“Yes, but they may have turned off anywhere. They may change their minds a dozen times about their destination.”
“No, they won’t,” said Patty, positively; “not unless they think they’re pursued, and of course they’ve no idea of that. Speed her up, Bill; the way is clear now! I don’t believe they’re going at this pace.”
“Patty, you’re a good pal! I don’t believe any other girl would be as plucky as you are in such a case.”
“Why, I haven’t done anything,” and Patty opened her eyes wide, in surprise. “You’ve done it all—Little Billee.”
“You’ve helped me more than you know. With you by my side, I’m bound to succeed.” Big Bill bent to his wheel, and the swift machine flew along so fast that conversation became impossible.
As they neared Greenwich, Patty’s sharp eyes descried a dark red car ahead of them.
“That’s it!” she cried. “That’s Mona’s car! Chase ’em, Bill!”
“The nerve of him, to elope in her own car!” growled Bill, through his clenched teeth. “I told you he was a scoundrel, Patty!”
They were rapidly gaining on the red car, when, as it turned the corner, one of its occupants saw their pursuers, and Patty heard a shriek.
“That’s Mona’s yell,” she cried, in dismay. “They’ve seen us, Bill, and now they’ll get away from us!”
Sure enough, the pursuing car was swift, but the big Galbraith car was a speed wonder, and the elopers darted ahead with renewed determination to escape capture.
“Oh, what a shame!” wailed Patty. “They recognised us, and now they’ll get away.”
“Not if I know it!” and Farnsworth set his teeth hard. “Sit tight, Patty; we’re going to go faster!”
It didn’t seem as if they could go any faster, but they did, and if it had been anybody driving except Farnsworth, Patty would have felt frightened. But she knew his skill, and too, she knew that he never let excitement or enthusiasm run away with his judgment. So she sat as still as she could, striving to catch her breath in the face of the wind; and refraining from speech, lest she distract Bill’s attention even for a second.
At last, when they had a long, clear view ahead, and they saw the red car ever increasing the distance between them, Bill gave up.
“It’s no use, Patty; we can’t catch them! I’ve done all I can, but that car they’re in is a world-beater! They went through Greenwich like a streak. They would have been arrested, but no one could stop them. Oh, I say, My Little Girl,—I have an idea!”
“Is your idea faster than their car, Little Billee?”
“You bet it is! Just you wait and see; Patty, we’ve got ’em!”
Farnsworth turned around and drove rapidly back to Greenwich, which they had just passed through.
At a hotel there, he jumped out, told Patty to wait, and rushed into the office.
It was nearly ten minutes before he returned, and Patty could scarcely believe that whatever plan he had could be of any use after such delay.
He jumped in beside her, turned around, and in a minute they were again whizzing along, following the direction of the other car.
“I’ll tell you what I did, Patty,” he said, chuckling. “I telephoned to the Stamford Chief of Police, and asked him to arrest those people for speeding as they crossed the city limit!”
“Will they be speeding?”
“Will they be speeding? You bet they will! And even if they aren’t, they’ll be arrested, all the same, and held without bail until we get there! Oh, Patty, if the situation were not so serious, I could laugh at this joke on Lansing!”
On they went, at their highest speed, and reached Stamford not very much later than the red car they were following.
At the city line, they found this car standing, with two or three policemen forbidding its further progress.
Horace Lansing was in a violent fit of temper, and was alternating bribes with threats of vengeance, but the policemen were imperturbable, having been told the facts of the case by Farnsworth over the telephone.
Mona was weeping bitterly, and though Patty went to her with affectionate words, she stormed back, “Go away, Patty Fairfield! You have no right to interfere in my affairs! It was your prying that found this out. Go away; I won’t speak to you!”
“By what right have you followed us, Miss Fairfield?” began Mr. Lansing, looking at Patty, angrily.
But Farnsworth strode over to the speaker, and spoke to him, sternly but quietly. “Lansing,” he said, “it’s all up, and you know it! Now, I don’t want to have a scene here and now, so you have my permission to go away wherever you like, on condition that you never enter the presence again, of Miss Galbraith or Miss Fairfield.”
“Ho!” said Lansing, with an attempt at bravado. “You give me your permission, do you? Let me tell you that Miss Galbraith is my promised wife. We have the license, and we’re about to be married. It will take more than you to stop us!”
“Indeed,” said Farnsworth, and putting his hands in his pockets, he gave Lansing a contemptuous glance. “Well, then, I shall have to request assistance. If I tell this constable a good reason why he should detain you long enough to prevent your marriage to Miss Galbraith, would such an argument have any weight with you?”
