style="font-size:15px;"> “Here are some,” said Bill, opening a cupboard door, and disclosing a lot of long sticks. Everybody selected one, and they set forth.
“Such a wonder-place!” exclaimed Marie, as at every fresh turn they found some new bit of scenery or different view. “I could stay here forever!”
“Me too!” agreed Mona. “What’s the name of the lake?”
“Something like Skoodoowabskooskis,” said Bill, laughing; “but for short, everybody calls it Blue Rock Lake.”
“Because the rocks on the other side look so blue, I suppose,” suggested Daisy.
“I believe you’re right!” cried Chick, in mock amazement at her quick perception. Whereupon Daisy made a face at him.
“Don’t mind him, Daisy,” said Patty; adding, teasingly, “it’s perfectly true, the distant rocks do look blue, hence the term, Blue Rock Lake, – blue rocks and the lake, see?”
“Oh, you smarty!” and Daisy lost her temper a little, for she hated to be made fun of; “if you tease me, I’ll tease you. What about a girl who wakes up, babbling of some ‘Philip’ or other!”
“Babbling nothing!” cried Patty. “And anyway, I’m always babbling, asleep or awake. Oh, see that bird! What a beauty!” As a matter of fact there was no bird in sight, but canny Patty knew it would divert attention from Daisy’s remark, and it did. After vainly looking for the beautiful bird, other distractions arose, and Patty breathed more freely that nobody had noticed Daisy’s fling.
But after they had walked all round the lake, and were nearing the hotel again, Bill stepped to Patty’s side and falling in step with her, put his strong, firm hand under her elbow, saying: “Want some help, little girl, over the hard places?”
Channing, who had been at her other side, took the hint and fell behind with some of the others.
“What’s this about your waking up with Philip’s name on your lips?” he said; “do you want to see him so badly? If so, I’ll ask him up here?”
Patty hesitated; here was her chance to get the invitation that Phil so coveted, and yet, she knew Bill Farnsworth didn’t want him. Nor was she sure that she wanted him, herself, if he and Little Billee weren’t going to be friendly. A nice time she would have, if the two men were cool or curt to each other.
So she said, “No, I don’t want him, especially. I daresay I was dreaming of him. I dream a lot anyway, of everything and everybody.”
“Dreaming?” said Farnsworth, in a curious voice; “is that all, Patty?”
“All? What do you mean?”
“Is that all the communication you had with Van Reypen last night? In dreams?”
Patty looked up, startled. Did Bill know of the telephone message? Would he care? Patty felt a certain sense of guilt, though, as she told herself, she had done nothing wrong. Moreover, the only reason she had for not telling Farnsworth frankly of Phil’s message, was merely to spare him annoyance. She knew he would be annoyed to learn that Phil had called her at midnight on the long distance, and if he didn’t already know it, she would rather he shouldn’t. But did he, or not?
“Pray, how else could I talk to him?” she said, laughingly. “Do you suppose I am a medium and had spirit rappings?”
“I suppose nothing. And I know only what you choose to tell me.”
“Which is nothing, also. Why, Little Billee, you’re in a mood this morning, aren’t you?”
She glanced up into the face of the man who strode beside her. It was a fine face. Strong, well-cut features made it interesting rather than handsome. It was also a determined face, and full of earnestness of purpose. But in the blue eyes usually lurked a glint of humour. For the moment, however, this was not noticeable, and Farnsworth’s lips were closed rather tightly, – a sure sign with him, of seriousness.
“Since you choose to tell me nothing, I accept your decision. But once more I ask you, for the last time, do you wish me to invite Van Reypen up here?”
A moment Patty thought. Then she said, “No, thank you, Billee, I don’t.”
Farnsworth’s brow cleared, and with a sunny smile down at her, he said: “Then the incident is closed. Forget it.”
“All right,” and Patty smiled back, well pleased that she had decided as she did.
“You little goose!” said he, “I know perfectly well that you called up Van Reypen on the telephone last night.”
“I did not!” declared Patty, indignantly.
“Now, Apple Blossom, don’t tell naughty stories. I say, I know you did.”
“All right, Mr. Farnsworth, if you doubt my word, there’s nothing more to be said.”
Patty was thoroughly angry, and when she was angry she looked about as fierce as a wrathy kitten. But, also, when Patty was angry, a few foolish tears would crowd themselves into her eyes, and this only served to make her madder yet. She turned from him, wanting to leave him and join some of the others, but she couldn’t, with those silly drops trembling on her eyelashes.
“Look up, Apple Blossom,” said a gentle voice in her ear. Farnsworth’s voice was one of his chief charms, and when he modulated it to a caressing tone, it would cajole the birds off the trees.
Patty looked up, and something in her blue eyes glistened through the tears, that somehow made her look incapable of “telling a naughty story.”
“Forgive me, Posy-Face,” Farnsworth murmured, “I will believe you, whatever you tell me. I will believe you, whether I think you’re telling the truth or not!”
At this rather ambiguous statement, Patty looked a little blank. But before she could ask further explanation, they had reached the hotel and they all went in.
CHAPTER V
M’LLE FARINI!
According to Farnsworth’s plan, at luncheon, each girl moved her seat one place to the left. This put Adele at the host’s left, and moved Patty on farther, so that she was between Jim Kenerley and Chick Channing.
“Welcome, little stranger,” said Chick, as they sat down. “I’ll have you now, and again tonight at dinner, sitting by me side, and then life will be a dreary blank, while you slowly jog all round the table, getting back to me, two days after tomorrow. How the time will drag!”
“You’re so flattering!” and Patty pretended to be terribly pleased. But, as a matter of fact, she was wishing she could sit next Little Billee, and find out whether he was really angry at her. Also, she decided she would tell him all about the telephone message, for he apparently believed she had told him a falsehood. And, too, it occurred to her, that he might not make any great distinction between calling and being called on the telephone.
“What do you think about it? Shall us go?” said Chick, and Patty realised, with a start, that she had been so lost in her thoughts, that she hadn’t heard the talk at table.
“Go where?” she asked, looking blank.
“Oh,
