style="font-size:15px;"> “Yes, indeed; I just love fortune tellers! Where is he, Kit?”
“Off in the woods, in a tumble-down old shanty. But he’s the real thing in seers! I was out for an early morning prowl, and I discovered him. Bobbink, that’s my pet bellhop, says he’s greatly patronised by the populace, but though he gets lots of coin, he won’t move into better quarters or disport himself more as a man of means.”
“Well, I want to go to see him,” Patty declared. “Will you go, Billee?”
“Can’t go this afternoon, Patty; I’m sorry, but I have another engagement.”
“So have I,” said Daisy, looking a little conscious. “Let’s leave Mr. Fortune Teller till tomorrow morning.”
All agreed to this, and after luncheon was over, they proceeded to plan various sports.
“Tennis, Patty?” asked Chick.
“No; too poky.” And Patty gave a restless gesture, most unusual with her, and only indulged in when she was bothered about some trifle. She wanted to get a moment alone with Farnsworth and tell him about Phil. She knew from the way Little Billee looked at her, or, rather, didn’t look at her, that he was hurt or offended, or both.
“Golf then?” Chick went on.
“No, too slow.”
“Well, how ’bout lawn bowls?”
“What are they?”
“Never tried lawn bowls! Oh, they’re lots of fun. Come on.”
In a short time they had collected half a dozen people and were in the midst of a gay game, when Farnsworth suddenly appeared, riding a big, black horse. Very stunning he looked, for his riding togs were most becoming and he sat his horse with all the grace and easy carelessness of the Western rider.
“Oh, Billee,” cried Patty, dropping the bowling ball she was about to roll, “I want to go riding!”
And then she was covered with chagrin, for Daisy came out of the hotel, also garbed in the trimmest of riding costumes, and a groom led a horse for her to mount.
“Do you, Patty?” said Bill, not unkindly, but with a disinterested air. “You may. There are lots of horses in the stables.”
Patty quickly recovered her poise. “Thank you,” she cried, gaily; “a little later, then. Will you go, Chick?”
“Will I! Just try me!”
“Well, we’ll finish this game, and then there will be time enough.”
The game over, they went for a ride. Patty’s riding habit was dark green, of modish cut and style. She was a good horsewoman, though she seldom rode. Channing, likewise, was a good rider, but he made no such picturesque effect in the saddle as Big Bill.
“Whither away?” he said, as they started.
“Is it too far to go over to Poland Spring House?”
“Not a bit. It’s a goodish distance, but the road is splendid, and it isn’t four yet.”
So they set off briskly for that destination. The exhilarating air and exercise quite restored Patty’s good humour, and she cast off all thought of petty botherations and enjoyed herself thoroughly.
“Great!” she exclaimed, smiling at Chick, as they flew along.
“Yes, isn’t it? And it’s not so very far, we’re nearing the approach to the place now. We’ll have time for tea, and get back well before dark.”
“Lovely! Oh, what a big hotel! And will you look at the squirrels!”
Sure enough, the lawn and verandas were dotted with fat gray squirrels. They were very tame and had no fear of people or horses. They welcomed Patty and Chick, by sitting up and blinking at them as they dismounted and grooms took their horses away.
Asking for the tea room, they were shown the way, and ushered to a pleasant table.
“Chocolate for me, please,” said Patty, as the waiter stood with poised pencil. “I hate tea. So chocolate, and dear little fussy cakes.”
“Chocolate is mine, too, then. Whatsoever thou eatest that will I eat also. Well, by Jove, will you look over there!”
Patty looked in the direction that Chick’s eyes indicated, and there, at a small table, busily eating cakes and tea, sat Farnsworth and Daisy Dow.
“Shall we join them?” asked Chick.
“Join them! Oh, no, they don’t want joiners. They’re absorbed in each other.”
They did look so. Bill was earnestly talking and Daisy was listening with equal intentness. Her face was bright and animated, while Farnsworth’s was serious and thoughtful.
Patty was angry at herself for being one whit disturbed at sight of them, thus chummily having their tea, and she tossed it off with a gay laugh. “Besides, I’d rather chat with you alone than to have a foursome.”
“Good girl, Patty,” and Chick nodded approvingly. “Do you know I think you’re about as nice as anybody, after all.”
“So do I you,” and Patty sipped her chocolate with an air of contentment. “This is a much bigger hotel than ours, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but ours is more beautiful, I think, and quite big enough for our party.”
“Of course. Oh, what a stunning-looking woman! See, Chick, over toward your left.”
Channing turned slightly to see a very handsome dark-eyed woman, who smiled at him as their glances met.
“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed; “if it isn’t Maudie Kent. I say, Patty, don’t you want to meet her? She’s an actress, or was, and she’s a dear. Awfully good form and all that, and really worth while.”
“Yes, I’d love to know her,” said Patty, looking with interest at the stunning gown the lady wore. It was of flame-coloured silk, veiled with black net, and was matched by a wide hat of black with flame-coloured plumes.
“Excuse me a moment, then,” and Channing rose and went over to where the lady stood. She was alone, and he had no difficulty in persuading her to come to their table.
“You dear child,” said Miss Kent, as Channing introduced them; “how pretty you are! I’m so glad to know you. But what are you doing here with Chick Channing?”
“Just having tea,” said Patty, smiling back into the big dark eyes that looked at her so kindly.
“But are you staying here? Where are your people?”
“We are staying over at Freedom Hall,” she began, and then paused, for with those eyes upon her, she couldn’t quite make it seem a rational thing to do.
“Oh, it’s quite all right, Maudie,” Channing put in, “there’s a crowd of us, with chaperons and things, and our good host, by the way, is right across the room, at a tea-table.”
“That
