“She was the patient one,” put in Helen.
“Well, I’m not patient, either! I’m—oh, I’m just miserable! I wish you would both clear out, and let me alone!”
“Well, we won’t,” said Nan, determinedly. “But, I’ll tell you what we are going to do. You dress yourself all up and we’ll all go down town and lunch at the gayest and giddiest place we can find, and then we’ll go to a foolish matinée,—the most hilarious one there is on the boards,—and then, we’ll get a new start, and when we come home we can talk this over with your father, and see what’s what in the Fairfield household!”
Patty demurred, saying she didn’t want to go, but Nan was inexorable, and at last Patty yielded. But only on the condition that they would give her half an hour alone first, to think things out.
This was granted, and Patty was left alone and undisturbed for the stipulated time.
When Nan came again to the room, she found Patty not yet dressing, but looking far more cheerful.
“I’ve thinked it out,” she greeted Nan; “and here’s the result. I’m going to keep faith in my Little Billee, until he tells me with his own lips that he’s tired of me, and loves another girl. I can’t see any way to hope this isn’t so, but I’m going to keep my faith, till I know more,—anyway. Because, Nan,” her voice fell to a whisper, “if I don’t, I’ll go crazy! When I remember all he has said to me,—all his faith in me, all his protestations of undying, unfailing love, I can’t believe it’s all swept away by some new face! Think how long Bill has cared for me——”
“That’s right, Patty, look at it like that. It’s a whole lot better.”
As a matter of fact, Nan, too, had thought it over very seriously, and she could see no explanation but Bill Farnsworth’s deep perfidy. She could conceive of no theory that would fit the facts, save the hint that Herron had dropped, that Bill had been enslaved by a sparkling little brunette, full of the Southern charm and fascination.
It was not like Farnsworth, but Nan realised that men are not always masters of their fates.