More languidly this time the apple blossoms were plucked from the branches, more slowly the springtime steps were taken, and before she reached a point in the music where she could stop, Patty was swaying from faintness, not by design.

Farnsworth saw this, and acting on a sudden impulse, he swung the great folds of his trailing velvet over his arm, and with a few gliding steps, reached her side, threw an arm round her, and suiting his steps to hers, continued the figure she had begun.  But he supported her weary little form, he held her in a strong, firm clasp, and, a fine dancer himself, he completed the “Apple Blossom Dance” with her, which she never could have done alone.  Then, after bowing together to the delighted and tumultuously applauding audience, he led her to a seat, and shielded her from the unthinking crowd, who begged her to dance for them again.

“Little Billee, you’re a dear!” said Patty, as the next dance took the people away again.  “How did you know I was going to sink through the floor in just one more minute?”

“I saw how tired you were, and though I hated to ‘butt in’ on your performance, I just felt I had to, to save you from collapse.”

“You didn’t ‘butt in’!  You’re a beautiful dancer, better than Captain Sayre, in some ways, though you don’t know so many fancy steps.  But you picked up my idea of the apple blossom steps at once!”

“Because that’s our dance.  And you’re my property to-night, anyway.  Didn’t Neptune crown the Spirit of the Sea?”

“Yes, and I haven’t yet thanked you for this lovely wreath!  It’s the most beautiful thing!  Where did you get it?”

“I had it made, to replace the one I stole from you the night of the storm.”

“You didn’t steal that,—­I gave it to you.”

“Well, and so I give you this one in return.  Will you wear it sometimes?”

“I’ll wear it often, it’s so lovely.  And so becoming,—­isn’t it?”

Naughty Patty smiled most provokingly up into the big blue eyes that looked intently at her.

“Becoming?” he said.  “Yes, it is!  What isn’t becoming to you, you little beauty?”

“There, there, don’t flatter me!” and Patty cast down her eyes demurely.  “Oh, Jack, is this our dance?” And with a saucy bow, Patty left Big Bill, and strolled away on Jack Pennington’s arm.

“You’re a regular out and out belle to-night, Patty,” he said, frankly.  “All the men are crazy over you, and all the girls are envious.”

“’Tisn’t me,” said Patty, meekly.  “It’s this ridiculous green rig and my unkempt hair.”

“Shouldn’t wonder,” returned Jack, teasingly; “girls always look best in fancy dress.”

“So do the boys,” Patty retorted.  “Isn’t Bill Farnsworth stunning in that Neptune toga,—­or whatever it’s called?”

“Pooh, you’d think he was stunning in anything, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh,—­I don’t know—­” and Patty put her fingertip in her mouth, and looked so exaggeratedly shy that Jack burst into laughter.