“You got out of that beautifully with Aunt Adelaide,” and Patty laughed at the recollection. “But I’m going to scold you for picking me up in that unceremonious fashion.”
“I know,—it was dreadful! But,—perhaps I did it on a sudden impulse,—you know,—you forgive those!”
Patty remembered her defence of Daisy, and couldn’t repress a smile at the boy’s wheedlesome argument.
“Well, don’t let it happen again,” she said with an attempt at extreme hauteur.
But Farnsworth replied, “When I get a real good chance, I’m going to pick you up and carry you a million miles away.”
“Catch me first!” cried Patty, and darting away from him, she ran like a deer toward the house.
Farnsworth stood looking after her, but made no move to follow.
The big fellow was thinking to himself, wondering and pondering in his slow, honest way, on why that little scrap of pink and white humanity had all unconsciously twined herself around his very heartstrings.
“Apple Blossom!” he murmured, beneath his breath, and then sauntered slowly toward the house.
THE SPIRIT OF THE SEA
The night of the Pageant was as beautiful as the most exacting young person could desire. There was no moon, but there seemed to be an extra bright scattering of stars to make up for it. A soft, cool ocean breeze stirred the air, there was no dampness, and everybody pronounced the evening as perfect as if specially made for the occasion.
An early dinner was served at “Red Chimneys,” and then the guests dispersed to don their carnival costumes.
With her usual promptness, Patty was ready first, and coming down to the drawing-room, found nobody there. So she took opportunity to admire her own effects in the multitude of mirrors.
It was an exquisite reflection that faced her. She had not adopted Daisy’s idea of fishnet, as that seemed to her too heavy. Laurence Cromer had approved of her own suggestions, and together they had designed her costume. It was of pale green chiffon, trailing away in long, wavy lines. Over it, hung from the shoulders a tunic-like drapery of white chiffon. This was frosted, here and there, with broken, shimmering lines of silver, and the whole effect hinted of moonlight on the sea.
Patty’s wonderful hair fell in curling, tumbling masses over her shoulders and far down her back. In it were twined a few strands of seaweed,—beautifully coloured French work, which Laurence Cromer had procured from somewhere by a very special order. Across the top of her head a silver band confined the riotous curls, and from it, in the centre, rose an upright silver star.
Though simple, the whole costume was harmonious and picturesque, and suited Patty’s fair beauty to perfection. Her bare arms and throat were soft and rounded as a baby’s, and her lovely face had a pink glow of happiness, while her eyes were like two starlit violets.