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 negligees.
"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-a-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?"
"Negligees 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."