JUST A SHORT SPIN
"Stop! Look! Listen!" cried Patty, gaily, as the unabashed intruder
calmly seated himself on the broad, low window-sill. "Do you consider
it good manners to present yourself in this burglarious fashion?"
"Well, you see, my room opens on this same veranda,--indeed the veranda
seems to run all around the house on this story,--and so I thought I'd
walk about a bit. Then I chanced to spy you, and--well, I'm still
spying. Is this your dinky boudoir? How fussy it is."
"I like it so," said Patty, smiling.
"Of course you do. You're fussy yourself."
"I am not! I'm NOT fussy!"
"Oh, I don't mean that the way you think I do. I mean you're all
dressed fussy, with pink ribbons and lace tassels and furbelows."
"Yes; I do love frilly clothes. Now, I suppose your ideal girl wears
plain tailor-made suits, and stiff white collars, and small hats
without much trimming,--just a band and a quill."
"Say, that's where you're 'way off! I like to see girls all dollied up
in squffly lace over-skirts,--or whatever you call 'em,--with dinky
little bows here and there."
"Is this frock all right, then?" asked Patty, demurely, knowing that
her summer afternoon costume was of the very type he had tried to
describe.
"Just the ticket! I'm not much on millinery, but you look like an apple
blossom trimmed with sunshine."
"Why, you're a poet! Only poets talk like that. I doubt if Mr. Cromer
could say anything prettier."
"'Tisn't pretty enough for you. Only a chap like Austin Dobson could
make poetry about you."
The earnest sincerity in the big blue eyes of the Westerner robbed the
words of any semblance of impertinence, and Patty spoke out her
surprise.
"Why, do you read Austin Dobson? I never thought--"
She paused, lest she hurt his feelings by her implication, but
Farnsworth went on, quietly:
"You never thought a big, hulking fellow like me could appreciate
anything exquisite and dainty, either in poetry or in people," he said.
"I don't blame you, Miss Fairfield; I am uncouth, uncultured, and
unmannered. But I am fond of books, and, perhaps by the law of
contrast, I am especially fond of the Minor Poets."
"You shan't call yourself those horrid names," said Patty, for his
tones rang true, and she began to appreciate his honest nature; "no one
can be uncouth or uncultured who loves such reading. Don't you love the
big poets, too?"
"Yes; but I suppose everybody does that. I say, won't you come outside
for a bit? That room is stuffy, and the air out here now is great.
Couldn't you skip down with me for a whiff of the sea?"
"Why, I ought to be dressing for dinner."
"Oh, there's lots of time yet. Come on. Don't tell anybody, just fly
out at this window, like Peter Pan, and we'll elope for half an hour."
Acting impulsively, Patty swung herself through the low window, and had
descended the picturesque outside stairway that led from the upper
veranda to the lower one before she remembered Daisy's prohibition.
"Oh, I think I won't go down to the beach," she said, suddenly pausing
at the foot of the stairs. "I must go right back."
"Nothing of the sort," and Farnsworth grasped her arm and fairly
marched her along the path to the gate. "You're not a quitter, I know,
so what silly notion popped into your head just then?"
Patty laughed outright at his quick appreciation of her mood.
"Well," she parried, "you see, I don't know you very well."
"All the more reason for snatching this chance to get acquainted."
"Somebody might see us."
"Let them. It's no crime to stroll down to the beach."
"Somebody might object to my monopolising you like this."
"Who, Mona?"
"No; not Mona."
"Who, then?"
"Is there no one who might justly do so?"
"No, indeed! Unless Mrs. Parsons thinks I'm neglecting her."
"Nonsense. I don't mean her. But, what about Miss Dow?"
"Daisy Dow! Well, Miss Fairfield, I'm a blunt Westerner, and I don't
know how to say these things subtly, but when you imply that Daisy has
any special interest in me, you do me undeserved honour. I've known her
for years, and we're good chums, but she'd have no right to comment if
I walked down to the sea, or into it, or across it. NOW, will you be
good?" They had reached the beach, and stood looking at the great
rollers coming in, their white crests tinged by the last rays of the
setting sun, which flashed a good-bye at them from the opposite horizon.
"It's fortunate you Eastern people have a sea," Farnsworth said, as he
gazed across the black distance, "or you wouldn't know the meaning of
the word space. Your lives and living are so cramped."
"You Western people have a sea, too, I believe," said Patty.
"Yes, but we don't really need it, as you do. We have seas of land,
rolling all over the place. We can get our breath inland; you have to
come to the ocean to get a full breath."
"That's the popular superstition. I mean, that we are cramped and all
that. But, really, I think we all have room enough. I think the
Westerner's idea of wanting several acres to breathe in is just a
habit."
Farnsworth looked at her steadily. "Perhaps you're right," he said; "at
any rate, you seem to know all about it. Do you suppose I could learn
to see it as you do?"
"Of course you could. But why should you? If you like the West, the
big, breezy, long-distance West, there's no reason why you should
cultivate a taste for our little cramped up, stuffy East."
"That's right! But I wish I could show you our country. Wouldn't you
love to go galloping across a great prairie,--tearing ahead for
illimitable miles,--breathing the air that has come, fresh and clean,
straight down from the blue sky?"
"You make it sound well, but after that mad gallop is over, what then?
A shack or ranch, or whatever you call it, with whitewashed walls, and
rush mats and a smoky stove?"
"By George! You're about right! It wouldn't suit YOU, would it? You
couldn't fit into that picture!"
"I'm 'fraid not. But if we're going to fit into the picture soon to
assemble in Mona's dining-room, we must make a start in that direction.
Mr. Farnsworth--"
"Call me Bill, oh, DO call me Bill!"
"Why should I?"
"Because I want you to; and because I think you might make that much
concession to my Western primitiveness and unceremoniousness."
"But I don't like the name of Bill. It's so,--so--"
"So uncouth? Yes, it is. But I'm not the sort to be called William.
Well, DO call me something pleasant and amiable."
"I'll call you Little Billee. That's Thackeray's, and therefore, it's
all right. Now, can you slip me back into my own apartments as quietly
as you took me away?"
"Of course I can, as it's nearly dark now. Here we go!"
He aided her up the stairs, and along the balcony to her own windows.
Patty sprang lightly over the low sill, and waved her hand gaily as she
pulled down her blinds and flashed on the electric lights. Then she
rang for Janet, and found that a hurried toilette was necessary if she
would be prompt at dinner.
One of Patty's prettiest evening frocks was a dainty French thing of
white chiffon, decked with pale green ribbons and exquisite artificial
apple blossoms made of satin. With a smile at the memory of
Farnsworth's allusion to apple blossoms, she put it on, and twisted a
wreath of the same lovely flowers in her golden crown of curls.
Then she danced downstairs to find the Western man awaiting her. He
looked very handsome in evening clothes, and the easy unconsciousness
of his pose and manner made him seem to Patty the most attractive man
she had ever seen.
"I've arranged it with Mona," he said, straightforwardly, "and I'm to
take you in to dinner. I want to sit next to you."
But Patty had caught sight of Daisy Dow, and the angry gleam in that
young woman's eyes warned Patty that Farnsworth's plan boded trouble.
Moreover, perverse Patty objected to being appropriated so calmly, and
with a deliberate intent to pique Farnsworth, she replied, gaily:
"Nay, nay, fair sir; it suits me not, thus to be parcelled out. We
Eastern girls are not to be had for the asking."
The smile she flashed at him brought an answering smile to Farnsworth's
face, but as he stepped forward to urge her to grant his wish, Patty
slipped her hand in Roger's arm, and joined the others who were already
going to the dining-room.
She had quickly seen that this move on her part would leave Farnsworth
no choice but to escort Daisy Dow, for Roger had been assigned to that
fair maiden.
"What's up?" enquired Roger, as he obediently followed Patty's
whispered order to "come along and behave yourself."
"Nothing," returned Patty, airily; "I have to have my own way, that's
all; and as my old friend and comrade, you have to help me to get it."
"Always ready," declared Roger, promptly, "but seems to me, Pitty-Pat,
the colossal cowboy is already a Willing Willy to your caprices."
"Don't be silly, Roger. He's so unused to our sort of society that he's
willing to bow down at the shrine of any pretty girl."
"Oh, Patsy-Pat! Do you consider YOURSELF a pretty girl? How CAN you
think so? Your nose turns up, and I think you're a little cross-eyed--"
"Oh, Roger, I am not!"
"Well, perhaps I'm mistaken about that; but you've a freckle on your
left cheek, and a curl on your right temple is out of place."
"It isn't! I fixed it there on purpose! It's supposed to look
coquettish."
"Very untidy!" and Roger glared in pretended disapproval at the curl
that had purposely been allowed to escape from the apple-blossom wreath.
Patty liked Roger's fooling, for they were old chums and thoroughly
good friends, and it was one of his customary jokes to pretend that he
was trying to correct her tendency to personal vanity.
Beside the house party, there were several other guests, mostly Spring
Beach cottagers, and the dinner was a gay one. Jack Pennington sat at
Patty's other side, and Farnsworth and Daisy Dow were far away, near
the head of the table.
"Dashing girl, Miss Dow," said Jack, as he looked at the vivacious
Daisy, who was entertaining those near her with picturesque stories of
Western life.
"Yes, indeed," said Patty; "and very clever and capable."
"Now, isn't it funny! Just from the way you say that, I know you don't
like her."
Patty was dismayed. If she didn't altogether like Daisy, she had no
wish to have other people aware of the fact.
"Oh, Jack, don't be mean. I DO like her."
"No, you don't; at least, not very much. She isn't your style."
"Well, then, if you think that, don't say it. I MUST like Mona's
guests."
"Yes, of course. Forgive a poor, blundering idiot! And don't worry,
Patty, no one shall ever know from me that you and the Dashing Daisy
aren't boon companions."
"You're so nice and understanding, Jacky boy, and I'm much obliged. Do
you remember the night you discovered who our chaperon was, and you
helped me out so beautifully?"
"Always glad to help the ladies. What are we doing to-night, after this
feast of fat things is over?"
"Nothing especial; dance a little, I suppose, sit around on the
veranda, sing choruses, and that sort of thing."
"There's a glorious full moon. Couldn't we escape for a little spin?
Just a very short one, in my runabout?"
"Yes, I'd love to. Or we could take my runabout."
"Or Mona's for that matter. I don't care what car we take, but I do
love a short, quick drive, and then come back for the dance."
"All right, I'll go. Mona won't mind, if I don't stay long."
"Oh, only just around a block or two. Just to clear the effect of these
flowers and candles from our brain."
"Isn't your brain a little weak, if it can't stand flowers and
candles?" asked Patty, laughing.
"Perhaps it is, and perhaps that's only an excuse to get away. Hooray!
Mona's rising now; let's make a mad dash."
"No; that isn't the way. Let's slide out quietly and inconspicuously,
through this side door."
Adopting this idea, Jack and Patty went out on a side veranda, and
stepped across the terrace to the garden paths. The moonlight turned
the picturesque flower-beds to fairy fields, and Patty paused on one of
the terrace landings.
"I don't know as I want to go motoring, Jack," she said, perching
herself on the marble balustrade; "it's so lovely here."
"Just as you like, girlie. Ha! methinks I hear vocal speech! Some one
approacheth!"
Farnsworth and Daisy Dow came strolling along the terrace, and Daisy
took a seat beside Patty, while the two men stood in front of them.
"Won't you girls catch cold?" said Farnsworth, in his matter-of-fact
way.
"These be not mortal maidens," said Jack, who was in whimsical mood.
"These be two goddesses from Olympian heights, who have deigned to
visit us for a brief hour."
"And unless you're very good to us," observed Patty, "we'll spread our
wings and fly away."
"Let's do something," said Daisy, restlessly; "it's poky, just sitting
here, doing nothing. I'd like to go in the ocean. It must be lovely to
bounce around in the surf by moonlight."
"You'd bounce into bed with pneumonia," said Patty. "But Jack and I
were talking of motoring. Suppose we take two runabouts and go for a
short spin."
All agreed, and the quartette went to the garage for the cars.
The head chauffeur, who was not of an over kindly disposition, informed
them that Miss Galbraith's runabout was out of commission for the
moment, though Miss Fairfield's was in good shape.
"I'll get mine," proposed Jack, but Bill Farnsworth said, "No, I don't
understand an electric awfully well. Let's take this car. I can run
this O.K., and it will hold the four of us."
"All right," said Jack; "we're only going a few blocks up the beach.
Hop in, Patty."
Farnsworth and Daisy sat in front, and Patty and Jack behind, and they
started off at a brisk speed. The girls declined to go back to the
house for wraps, as it was a warm evening, and the ride would be short.
But when Farnsworth found himself with the wheel in his hand and a long
stretch of hard, white road ahead of him, he forgot all else in the
glory of the opportunity, and he let the car go at an astonishing speed.
"Isn't this fun!" cried Patty, but the words were fairly blown away
from her lips as they dashed along.
"This is the way we Westerners ride!" exclaimed Daisy, as she sat
upright beside Bill, her hair streaming back from her forehead, the
light scarf she wore round her neck flapping back into Patty's face.
"It's grand!" gasped Jack. "But I hope Big Bill knows what he's about."
"You bet he does!" replied Bill himself, and they whizzed on.
Patty had never gone so fast. Though it was a warm night, the rush of
wind chilled her, and she shivered. Jack, seeing this, picked up a
lap-robe and wrapped it about her.
"Don't want to turn back yet, do you?" he asked.
"We must turn soon," Patty managed to reply, but Jack scarcely heard
the words.
The big moon was setting when Bill turned the car inland, and shouting,
"We're going to drive straight into that moon!" made a mad dash toward
it.
"Hurry up!" cried Patty. "Catch it before it drops below the horizon.
Speed her!"