GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART
The days sped all too quickly at Freedom Castle. And on one golden,
shining September afternoon, Patty realised that the next day they were
all to go home.
“I don’t want to go, Billy boy,” she said, wistfully.
She was sitting in a swing that she had herself contrived, and Chick had
achieved for her. It was a tangle of wistaria vine, pulled down from the
great oak tree that it had climbed, and fashioned into a loop. This they
had decorated with more sprays of the parent vine itself, and often
Patty, or the others, added autumn leaves or trailing creepers or
bunches of goldenrod or sumach till the swing was usually a rather
dressy affair. One couldn’t swing far in it, but then one didn’t want
to, and it was a charming place to sit.
Today, Patty, in a chic little suit of tan cloth, with a white silk
blouse and a crimson tie, sat in the swing, disconsolately poking into
the earth with her patent leather shoe tip.
“I’m sorry, Patty girl,” and Big Bill looked regretfully at her. “But
you see, the contract with the servants expires tomorrow, and they are
all anxious to get away. You know, I’ve staid longer than I intended,
now——”
“Yes, ’cause I begged you to,” and Patty smiled at him. “Now if I beg
you some more, will you stay some more?”
“In a min-nit! if I possibly could. But it’s _un_-possible. You know I
just came up for a few days to ratify the papers of transference and see
to some business matters, and I’ve all sorts of important duties
beckoning to me with both hands.”
“But if I beckon to you with both hands——”
Patty held out her pretty hands, and slowly beckoned with each slender
forefinger.
“Don’t tempt me, you little witch. You know I’d do anything in this
world for you, that didn’t conflict with duty——”
“Wouldn’t you conflict your duty—for me,—Little Billee?”
Patty’s voice was wheedlesome, and her face was very sweet.
“_My_ duty, yes, Patty.” Bill looked stern. “But my duty to
others,—no.”
“Oh, Billee-ee-_ee_——”
“I’m sorry, dear, but I must disappoint you. My employers expect me in
Boston tomorrow night, and I must not fail them.”
“Well, can’t we stay here, even if you go away? Jim and Adele could
manage things, and we don’t want servants. We could sort of camp out.
I’m a good cook, and we’d have a lovely time.”
Farnsworth considered. He looked far off and his fine brows knit as he
thought over Patty’s request. She looked at him and noted the cloud that
came over his blue eyes as he turned to her, and said: “No, Apple
Blossom, it can’t be done. This place is a trust to me, in a way, and
I’m responsible. I may not leave it to others. And I cannot remain
myself. So there’s no help for it, I must refuse you.”
There was an air of finality about Bill’s tones that told Patty there
was no use in further coaxing.
“What’s the matter, Patty?” he went on. “It isn’t like you to tease so.
I wish with all my heart I could give you what you ask, it hurts me
worse than you know to refuse you anything. But I wouldn’t be worthy of
the trust reposed in me, if I failed in my duty.”
“I hate duty,” said Patty, petulantly; “it’s a regular nuisance!”
“Gently, little girl, gently. What has happened to stir you up so? It’s
more than this ungratified whim of not staying here longer.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t think, I know it. Why, Patty dear, I know every expression of
your flower face, every look in your blue eyes, every droop of your
sensitive mouth. And now it’s drooping like a—like a, well, more like a
perverse baby than anything else.”
Farnsworth laughed gently as Patty’s mouth suddenly curved upward in an
involuntary smile, then, as it drooped again, she said; “I believe I’ll
tell you.”
“Just as you think best. I wonder if you remember a promise you made me
once.”
“Oh, Little Billee, how did you know it referred to that?”
“Something seemed to hint it to me. Well, out with it. Are you still
stage-struck?”
“No, but that manager, Mr. Stengel, won’t give up the idea of putting me
on in light opera. He says——”
“He says? Has he written to you?”
“No, Maude wrote me what he said. Any way, he thinks I have remarkable
talent, and——”
“You haven’t, Patty. Not remarkable talent. You have a pretty,
light-weight voice, and a—h’m—shall we say an attractive appearance;
but more than that is required for an opera success, even light opera.
Forgive me, Apple Blossom, I know I am hurting your feelings, but it’s
better you should know the truth.”
“Then why does Mr. Stengel want to put me into his plays?”
“He thinks you would look graceful and pretty and would be a drawing
card for a time. Then, when your freshness wore off, as it would soon,
he would throw you over like a worn-out toy.”
“Well, _your_ freshness hasn’t worn off, Bill Farnsworth,” and Patty
stood up, her eyes dark with anger at his words. “And I don’t care for
any more of your opinions on a subject you know nothing about.”
Big Bill Farnsworth smiled. “Well, was it a little ruffled kitten! Did
it hate to be misjudged and misunderstood and all those horrid things!
Well, then, Patty, see here. I’ll let you off from your promise to tell
_me_ when you think of going on the stage, but you must tell your
father. Though I can’t think you would ever take such a step, without
consulting him.”
Patty’s sudden blush and a guilty look in her eyes made Bill stare at
her sharply, and then he said: “Oh, you _were_ thinking of just
that,—were you, Patty Fairfield? I can hardly believe it. You poor
little thing, you _must_ be infatuated! Is it all that Maude Kent’s
doing? Or, have you—Patty, you haven’t _seen_ Stengel, have you?”
“No,” and Patty looked astounded at Bill’s vehemence. “Why?”
“Thank heaven! I thought for the fraction of a second your infatuation
might be for him. All right. You go home and talk to your father and
your very sensible stepmother, and I’ll warrant you’ll forget this bee
in your bonnet in pretty short order. And I hope you’ll never see Maude
Kent again. She has a certain charm and I don’t wonder it appealed to a
poor little innocent like you. Promise, Patty, you’ll lay the case
before your parents, before you take a further step.”
“Of course I shan’t go against their wishes,” Patty spoke with great
dignity, “but I know I can get them to see it as I do.”
“Indeed? And just how do you see it?”
“Why, I see a fine and worthy career opening before me,” Patty scowled
as the grin on Bill’s face grew broader, “a more valuable career than
you are able to appreciate, a more—more——”
“Patty! Oh, you angel goose, you! _Do_ stop, you’ll finish me!” And
Farnsworth threw back his head and roared with laughter. “And does
this—er—valuable career shape itself to your clearer vision as being
in the front row of the chorus, or farther back——”
Bill paused, stopped by the look of horror on Patty’s face.
“Chorus!” she cried. “Why, you must be crazy! I shall be a prima donna,
one of the reserved, exclusive ones, that nobody ever knows much about.
I’m not going to have my picture all over the signboards, I can tell you
that?”
“Nor the ash barrels? Well, for _this_ relief, much thanks. Patty, I
could laugh at you till I cried, but I feel more like crying first. I’m
so sorry you’ve got this whimsey, for I know you’ll hang on to it, like
a puppy to a root; and I shan’t be here to look after you. But your
father will do that.”
“Why, where are you going?”
“West again. I don’t know just when, but very soon. Now, it may be
better for you to have this violently and get over it quicker, like
mental measles. But unless you promise me faithfully to tell it
all,—every word,—to your father and mother, I’ll write them myself,
all about it. Do you want me to do that?”
“Chick thinks it would be great fun for me to have a try at the stage.”
“Did Channing say that?” Bill’s face grew dark. “Did he, really, Patty?”
“Yes, he did. He said I’d make a screaming hit.”
“Chick’s only joking; don’t let him fool you.”
“No, he wasn’t joking, and you know it. He thinks, as I do, that such an
experience would broaden me——”
“Patty, stop! Do you want to be ‘broadened’ at the expense of all your
refinement, your loveliness, your dainty girlhood, your fresh sweet
youth,—oh, Patty, my little Patty, listen to me! If you never speak to
me again, if you scorn me utterly, at least take my word for this, you
must not, you _shall_ not, think of this thing! Patty, come to me,
instead. Come to me, dear, let me take care of you, and find pleasures
for you that will make you forget this foolishness——”
“It is not foolishness, but your talk is. I don’t care to hear any
more.”
“Wait, dear, wait a moment. You know I love you, Patty, more than life
itself; marry me, and let me teach you to forget this whim of yours——”
“It isn’t a whim. And I don’t _want_ to marry you. This idea of mine is
not a whim,—but a career, a splendid opportunity that calls to me—that
promises wonderful things,—that——”
“Patty,” and Farnsworth’s face was white, “is that true,—what you said
just now, that you—you don’t _want_ to marry me?”
“Yes, it’s true,” and Patty’s angry blue eyes met his own sad ones.
“Then, that’s all, Apple Blossom. You may go now. I’ve no fear that you
will do anything further in this other matter, without your father’s
knowledge and no fear that he will allow it. So that’s all right.
Good-bye—Sweetheart!”
“Good-bye,” and Patty flounced off. Yes, flounced is the word, for angry
and chagrined, she let go of the swing she was holding, with a quick
push, and whirling about, walked quickly toward the house.
* * * * *
The next morning the whole party left for New York.
“It’s been perfectly lovely,” Adele said to Farnsworth; “and if it were
not for my baby girlie, I’d like to stay another week. But I hear her
calling me!”
At Boston they were to stay over night. The party really broke up there,
for several of the men were going in different directions.
But Adele gathered her brood of girls under her wing and carried them
off to a hotel. And in the hotel lobby good-byes were said.
“I’ve had my long-feared telegram,” said Farnsworth, “and I have to go
to Arizona at once. Wasn’t it lucky it didn’t come before we left our
happy hunting grounds?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Adele, “it’s been a beautiful party, Bill, and we
just love you for giving it to us. Don’t we, girls?”
“Yes!” they chorused, and laughingly interrupting their thanks,
Farnsworth shook hands with everybody in hasty farewell.
Somehow, Patty was the last, and as he held out his hand to her, a gay
voice was heard calling out, “Oh, here you are, people! How do you all
do?”
They looked up to see Philip Van Reypen’s smiling face, as he cordially
greeted one after another.
“The most perfect time,” Mona was saying, when Daisy caught her up; “Oh,
yes, the _most perfect_ time! What do you think, Phil, we had an
engagement up there! A real live engagement! Guess the guilty parties!”
“Guess us!” exclaimed Roger, taking Mona’s hand and looking mock
sentimental.
“There’s no use,” said Daisy, “you can’t get a rise out of them! They
forestall you every time!”
“Congratulations, all the same,” said Van Reypen, cordially. “Patty, how
are you? Sunburned? Not very much.” His manner was so cheery and his
chatter so gay, nobody could be very serious, and the farewells became
short and perfunctory.
Roger and Elise were taking Mona with them to Newport, where Mrs.
Farrington was, and Bob Peyton was going directly home.
“Well,” said Van Reypen, “it’s lucky I came along, Mrs. Kenerley, to
help you care for your charges. Cameron, you and I must look after
things.”
“I’m on the job, too,” said Channing. “You can’t shake me till the last
bell rings. Your train time, Farnsworth! So long, old man. See you when
you return. You’re always turning and returning. And all thanks for a
bully time!”
“Good-bye, everybody,” cried Bill, in his most genial way. “Glad you
enjoyed it, and hope we can try it again some time. Good-bye, Patty,”
and with a swift hand clasp, and a quick look in her eyes, Bill swung
off and was lost to sight in the crowd.
Something seemed to snap in Patty’s heart. A cloud swam before her eyes,
and she swayed a little where she stood.
“All right, girl,” said a strong, calm voice in her ear, and Van Reypen
grasped her elbow and steadied her. Immediately, she was ashamed of her
passing emotion, and laughed gaily, as she met his eyes.
“I’m here,” he said simply; “you’ll be taken care of.”
“Wherever _did_ you drop from?” and Patty suddenly realised the
queerness of his presence.
“Oh, I’m the little busybody who finds out things. I found out what
train you people came down on, and I met it. Or rather, I tried to, but
I reached it just as you left the station for this hostelry, so
perforce, I followed you up. Now, may I attach myself to your cortège,
Mrs. Kenerley? I can make myself useful, I assure you. Are you staying
here over night?”
“Some of us are,” replied Adele, who liked Phil, and was glad to see
him.
“Then be my guests for the evening. We’ll have dinner in great shape,
and do a show, and just round up Boston generally.”
The Kenerleys agreed, and soon the festivities began by the party
sitting down for afternoon tea in the hotel tea room.
Daisy told Phil of Patty’s escapade enacting the singer, M’lle Farini.
“What a lark!” said Van Reypen. “But I daresay you gave the audience a
greater treat than if the lady herself had been there.”
“Sure she did!” declared Channing. “I tell you, we’ll see Patty on the
stage yet. And a charming prima donna she would make, too. I believe it
would be a great success. Farnsworth says——”
But then some interruption occurred and the sentence was never finished.
In the evening, they all went to see a new light opera that was
exceedingly popular. It was a dainty, pretty piece of foolery, full of
Dresden china-looking ladies, and knights in theatrical armour, and the
principal singer was a slight fairy-like person, much like Patty
herself.
“You could give that Diva cards and spades,” declared Chick, as they
discussed her at an after theatre supper. “Why, Patty, you’re more of an
actress than she is, this minute.”
“And a thousand times better-looking,” said Philip.
“Bill Farnsworth says I’m good-looking enough,” began Patty, slowly, and
then she stopped short and changed the subject. She wanted to think it
out for herself, before there was any more talk about it. So, if any one
recurred to the matter, she quickly spoke of something else, and the
evening passed merrily away.