LETTERS
Captain William Farnsworth sat in his room, opening his morning mail. Or
rather, his morning mail was waiting to be opened, while he eagerly
perused a letter from Miss Patricia Fairfield.
"For the love of pickled peppers!" he exclaimed, in a self-addressed
murmur, "she _didn't_! she _couldn't_!"
For the letter said,--in part:
"I am _so_ glad you're thinking of coming to New York in February!
That's soon here! Which day? What hour? Oh, my Little Billee, how can I
_wait_ to see you! I want to look in those dear, big, loving blue eyes,
and have them answer the questions I want to ask. You know what the
questions are! Oh, well, suppose I do know the answers,--I guess a
little Patty Blossom can ask over again if her big Sir Galahad loves
her,--and why,--and how much,--and a few such things,--that are
important, if true! And there is nothing in this whole round world truer
than our love,--is there, dear? I just _live_ in it,--when I am alone, I
thing of nothing but US, and, I'm afraid I am absent-minded, even when
other people are about. Do come home soon,--come to your own Patty Posy.
Tell me quick _when_ to look for you! Why didn't you tell me sooner
there was hope of seeing you soon? My own dear big man, my own, my
owner, my ownest, I'm now and forever
"Your
"Patty Blossom."
Farnsworth frowned,--he looked puzzled, amazed, hurt.
Again he resorted to expletives. "Great jumping kangaroos!" he said to
himself, "I can't see it! Patty never did such a thing! never! But if
not, how did she know? I believe the very walls have not only ears but
tongues and pens in their hands, and a whole wireless outfit beside! I
_can't_ suspect Patty,--and yet,--all women are curious,--and, of
course, this doesn't matter so much,--but if I can't trust her in
everything how can I trust her at all?"
With a sigh, he laid the letter aside, and turned to his business
correspondence.
Farnsworth's position was a responsible one, and it contained and
involved many secrets that must be carefully guarded. Among these was
the fact and date of his next trip to New York. It was on a matter of
moment, and it was not desirable that his absence from Washington should
be known. He had written Patty about it, but he had enclosed the message
in a sealed envelope, with directions not to open it until he wired her
to do so. Thus, he planned, she would know it in time, but the
information could not leak out. And now it had leaked out. Patty knew
and made no secret of the knowledge that he was expected in New York.
Had she told others? And,--worst of all,--had she opened the sealed
letter before he told her to? This was incredible,--yet, what other
solution or theory was possible? And there was to be considered a
grouchy old Colonel, who would make all sorts of trouble for Captain
Farnsworth if it became known that he was careless with his personal
correspondence.
Because of his well-trained mind, and his power of concentration,
Farnsworth forced himself to attend to matters in hand, but ever and
again flashed across his preoccupied brain the fact that Patty had
disregarded his instructions.
He lived with a pleasant family in the Capital, and his quarters were
the whole of the second floor of the small house. This gave him a
good-sized sitting room, which was his private office, and here he
transacted all business that didn't require his presence at the more
public buildings.
He kept doggedly at work, determined not to let the disturbing episode
interfere with his efficiency. And he succeeded, but only by dint of
perseverance in his resolve not to think of Patty at all.
This was difficult, for every glance of his eye fell on something
remindful of her. A photograph on his desk; other little snapshots
lurking among his papers; a paper-cutter she had given him; indeed, the
pen he wrote with was her parting gift; and all spoke eloquently of the
girl he had so reluctantly left behind him.
"Busy, Captain?" called a gay voice, and a merry face peeped in at the
door.
"Always busy," he returned, cheerily, "but never too busy to say good
morning."
"Oh, I know what that means! That I must say good morning, and nothing
more! But I do want just half a dozen more words."
The piquant face smiled coaxingly, as Lena Richards danced in. She was
the daughter of the house, a dark-haired, olive-skinned little gipsy,
who, being quite spoiled by her doting parents, assumed the right to
have her own way with every one else.
Farnsworth liked her as no one could help doing, but he was often
obliged to speak more curtly than he liked to, or she would intrude too
often on his time.
She wore a smock of pink linen and her curly hair was bundled into a
little Dutch cap. She came in, with the venturesome air of a mischievous
child, and perched saucily on the corner of the big desk.
"You see," she began, "I'm in an awful scrape--well, that is, _I'm_ not,
but somebody else is----"
"Who isn't?" said Farnsworth, smiling at the roguish little face that
wore such a troubled frown.
"Yes, I s'pose everybody is, more or less, from the President down. And
when you think of that, my little brother does seem small, but--you see,
to me----"
"It's a national calamity?"
"Personal rather than national,--yet it may be said to be
international."
"Many of our troubles are. Your story interests me strangely,--my
che-ild,--but truly, Lena, I can't take time now to hear the yarn. I
suppose your fudge was lumpy, or your new ribbons don't match your
frock,--is that it?"
"You always talk as if I were a child!" and the scarlet lips pouted
petulantly.
"Of course! I always think of you as a kiddy in a middy."
"This isn't a middy, it's a smock, and a very grown up one at that."
"Do smocks grow up? Thought they only grew old. Well, anyway, whatever
your age, I've no time to waste on you this morning. My country needs
me!"
"You're always so unkind to me,----" and two crystal drops formed in the
big, brown eyes.
Now, William Farnsworth was the sort of man who can't stand seeing a
woman in distress. And though he knew that this sixteen-year-old chit
could have no real or deep trouble, he yet could not bring himself to
speak sternly to her, and tell her to leave the room.
Against his will, he obeyed the dictates of his kind heart, and taking
out his watch, said:
"I'll give you ten minutes. Spill your story in Papa's ear!"
The dark little face lighted with gladness, and Lena murmured, "How good
you are! Listen, then! You know my friend, Gracie Hadley?"
"Haven't the pleasure. Who's she in America?"
"Well, she's just Gracie, that's all. And--sh!"--Lena looked cautiously
about, "don't breathe it, but she's in love with an English chap who's
over here. And her mother doesn't approve----"
"Why? Who's the Britisher?"
"I don't want to tell you, 'cause it's Gracie's secret----"
"All right; I don't want to know anyway. But where do I come in? I hate
to hurry you, but I'm assuming I play a part in this tragedy, and I want
my cue, for honest to goodness, Lena, I've troubles of my own!"
"Yes, I know, Captain, and I won't be but a minute explaining. Well,
Gracie has been corresponding with this man,----"
"Oh, naughty! naughty!"
"Hush! It's all right; only of course, she doesn't want her mother to
know. Well, she tears up his letters, but--_what_ do you think!"
"Censor?"
"No! but the man has given her her letters to him----"
"Returned them!"
"No; I mean yes,--but for this reason--you fluster me so,--with your
snapping up!"
"Well, well, go and tell it in your own way. But, for Heaven's sake,
hurry up!"
"All right. You see he gave her these letters to save for him just while
he's away somewhere, and he wants them when he comes back."
"Can't she write some more?"
"Oh! You're so unfeeling! So--why, you're _stupid_!"
"Pardon,--sorry! Fire away."
"Never mind details,--Gracie can't keep them at home, for fear her
mother will find them--she snoops awfully! And--_I_ can't keep them
here,----"
"For a similar reason?"
"Yes; exactly! So,--Captain Farnsworth,--nice, dear Captain Farnsworth,
won't you let me hid them in here,--among your things?"
"Goodness! Little One, is that all you want? Sure! Hide them wherever
you like in my domain. Your eagle-eyed mother won't find them in here!
But, hold on! Nothing that wouldn't get by the Censor, is there?"
"Oh, goodness, no! Nothing like that!"
"Guess I'll have to have a glimpse of 'em, though. Not to pry into the
lovers' confidences, of course, but because I can't harbour papers
unless I'm satisfied of their contents."
"All right,--that goes! I'll get them now;" and running from the room,
Lena returned with a small packet of letters tied with blue ribbon.
Farnsworth examined the envelopes, and glanced here and there at the
written pages.
"All right," he said, re-tying the packet, "internal evidence proves
conclusively to _my_ mind that these documents are just what you
describe them to be. Say we put them in the top drawer of my chiffonier;
how's that?"
"Fine! Mother would never dream of looking in your room!"
"I should hope not! And now may I, without undue haste, bid you a very
good morning?"
"S'pose I've _got_ to go, if you put it like that. I did want to tell
you more about Gracie; and there's something I want to ask you."
"Not now, not now, my child. I am busy--see? B-U-S-Y! My Flag comes
before my friends! Thus, you see my friends follow the Flag!"
"You are so witty! And so kind. Thank you lots, Captain, and when you're
not so busy, may I talk to you again?"
"If that time ever comes! But it never will unless you clear out! Scoot
now!" Farnsworth held the door persuadingly open, and Lena didn't scoot,
but she went slowly and reluctantly out.
"The pretty little nuisance!" muttered the Captain, as he closed and
locked his door.
Without further interruption, Bill put in the morning on his war work,
and at last was free to consider the case against Patty Fairfield.
"She's true blue," he thought, "far too true to do anything she deemed
wrong or even indiscreet. But I suppose she didn't realise how
definite,--how imperative my instructions were,--maybe I didn't tell her
distinctly enough,--maybe she forgot,--or was really overcome with a
desire to know what was in that sealed note. Oh, well, I must warn her
further. I hate to hurt her,--I can't let her think I distrust her,--and
Lord knows I _don't_! How I wish I had more time! But I've that
appointment at two--and--whew! I'll have to scribble to Patty pretty
fast, whatever I say!"
The result, after one or two torn-up attempts, was this:
"My Own Patty Blossom,--my Posy Face,--my Best Beloved: I've only a
minute to write this time, and so I must come to the point at once. Dear
Heart,--_did_ you open the sealed note before I told you to? Oh,
well,--I know you did so never mind about that,--but, my precious little
girl, don't, _please_ don't ever do it again. You see, I send you notes
thus, so that you can open them in haste when I wire you that you may.
Now, if you open them sooner, I never know where we stand. In this
matter, darling, please consider my wishes--and, especially because I
meant to send a really valuable paper to you, in order that you might
hand it to me when I do come to New York, and I won't have to carry it
with me or trust it to the general mail. I can't explain all these
matters, as you know, dear, but I do want to feel that in the government
work that is entrusted to _me_, I can as implicitly trust _you_ to be my
aid and helper. Can't I, Sweetheart? Of course, I know I can, and I know
your eager haste to learn my plans led you to open that letter before
time. So, don't do it again, and all will be well. Now, I've not another
minute, but I _must_ take time to say once again that I love you, and
you're all the world to me, my dear, _dear_ little Posy Patty.
"And I'm your faithful and devoted
"Little Billee."
When Patty received this letter she read it and sat aghast. What could
he mean? She had never opened a letter until he told her to! Many times
she had received permission by mail or by wire, and then she had opened
the sealed notes so frequently enclosed in Bill's letters to her. But
never before she got the word! Never,--never!
Again she read the pages from Washington. Had Farnsworth imagined it or
what had made him dream that she had done such a thing?
She? Not to be trusted! When every thought she had, every deed she did
was with the one trust and hope that she might help her Captain,--even
in the smallest way!
She went to her writing desk and from a locked drawer she took Bill's
sealed note, that had come with a recent letter.
It was still sealed. Why would he think she had opened it? Oh, well, she
thought, something has made him think so. I must write him at once that
I didn't. He'll believe me, of course. I know his faith and trust, and
they are not misplaced, that's certain!
So, a letter was quickly written and despatched telling the Captain that
his aid and helper in New York had not been false to her trust in the
minutest particular.
But Patty was still puzzled and gave much thought to the matter.
When Van Reypen came to say good-bye on the eve of his departure for
camp, he found a quiet and worried little girl, who received him with
but a slight smile.
"Well, my Lady Fair, you look as if you'd lost your last friend,--or,
perhaps, as if you were about to lose him! May I take this general air
of gloom as a tribute to my regrettable absence? Is it just 'cause
you're going to lose your little old friend that you look so
disconsolate?"
"No, sir! it isn't! In the first place, I don't look sad, and in the
second place, if I do, it isn't because I'm doing any 'Leah, the
forsaken,' act! I shall miss you, of course, but in these days we must
learn to miss people!"
"That's true, Patty, and have you any idea,--any faint glimmering of a
notion, how I shall miss you?"
"Phil, I know all grades of missing! I'm no novice at it. Since this war
called them, I've missed acquaintances, casual friends, old friends,
relatives, and, of course, most of all, my own Little Billee. Now, I
shall miss you,--and I know you'll miss me,--but, you'll soon get so
interested in your work--in the great game,--that you'll--oh, not forget
me, I'm sure,--but my memory will become, let us say, a little blurred."
"Indeed it won't! But, hold on here, if it isn't my departure, what is
it that has made your countenance sicklied o'er with a pale cast
of--something or other?"
"Rice powder, probably! Does it really make me look sickly? Good
gracious!" Patty scrubbed at her cheeks with her handkerchief, until
they were rosy indeed.
"Nope; you can't rub it off! It's ingrained. Come now, what's up?"
"Well, I am bothered. Philip, how do war secrets leak out?"
"How do they keep from it, you mean! Why, Patty, the end and aim of a
majority of our citizens seems to be to chatter and make trouble
thereby. What's exploded now?"
"Nothing that I can tell you,--only,--well,--never mind."
"You transparent little goose! Have you been and went and told something
Farnsworth told you not to?"
"No, I haven't! But he thought I did, so it's just as bad!"
"No; not _just_ as bad,--but, bad. What was it?"
"Never mind, but he thought I opened a sealed envelope and it's still
sealed."
"Has it been out of your possession?"
"Not for a minute!"
"Good! and locked away when you are asleep?"
"Always; locked in a secret drawer."
"Good, again. Then, you're all right. But let me warn you, Patty, to be
most exceedingly cautious. Farnsworth's work is of the highest
importance, and his plans must not be known in advance. I know this even
better than you do, and I beg of you to be even over-careful of any
orders he may give you."
"Oh, I am! I do! But you see, this matter must have leaked out some
other way, and he thought it was because of my knowledge of it."
"Patty!" Philip spoke suddenly; "did you have that letter with you that
day at the Timothy Grass Club?"
"Yes; I had just received it that morning."
"Where did you carry it?"
"In my fur stole; there's a buttoned pocket in the end of it, and it's a
safe place."
"And that Munson,--that masquerader,--wore your stole!"
"So he did!" and Patty looked frightened. "But, no! that's all right,
Phil. The enclosed note was still sealed when I reached home, and it is
sealed yet!"
"Very well; but don't take any chances. Leave your letters at home and
carefully locked up, if they contain anything outside your entirely
personal affairs. I speak whereof I know, Patty, and you _must_ be
careful!"
"I will, Philip, oh, truly I will," and Patty gave the promise in all
sincerity.