“What are you going to do?” asked Helen, breaking a long silence.
“There’s nothing to do,” replied Patty, hopelessly, “I can’t write and beg him to take me back. I have some pride! Nor can I ask what I’ve done to forfeit his regard. For I know I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve flirted with Phil Van Reypen,” said Helen, accusingly.
“I haven’t!” flared Patty. “On the contrary, I’ve been very careful not to! He’s flirted with me, if you like, but I’ve not encouraged him. You know I haven’t, Nan.”
“Not intentionally, dear, but you have been with him a great deal of late,—and Little Billee is of a jealous nature.”
“No, it isn’t that,” and Patty sighed, forlornly; “I only wish it were! Then I could ask his pardon and make up and all that. No, my Billee has found somebody he likes better’n me. I’m Leah, the Forsaken,—after all!”
“Leah, nothing!” exclaimed Helen. “Patty, if you can’t cut out a little black-eyed beauty, you’re no good! Don’t submit so tamely! Go to Washington,—hunt up the horrid little thing, and see what she’s like! Then, I’ll back your beauty against her, any day!”
“Oh, hush up, Bumble! Do you suppose I’d stoop to get back a man who has thrown me over! You must be crazy! I love Bill Farnsworth,—I adore him, and I can never love anybody else; but I’ll never raise a finger to whistle him back! I’m not that sort of a girl! I shall never write him again, or refer to this miserable business in any way. I’m glad Mr. Herron gave me the hint, or I might have made a fool of myself; now, I won’t!”
Nan was re-reading the unlucky missive.
“It’s very strange,” was her comment. “I can’t understand it. There is no mistaking his handwriting; there’s no mistaking the words of that silly verse! But I don’t like it, Patty. I’m surprised at Bill. If he had ceased to love you, why not tell you so, like a gentleman? You know, I always said——”