Soon Patty was rolling off toward the Barrett house. Her heart was in a turmoil. What did that packet of blue-tied letters mean? They were no government documents, of that she was sure. They might be cipher letters or code affairs, and really be of military matters after all.
She tried to think this, but circumstantial evidence was too strong. The girlish writing, the words addressed to the big hero, the blue ribbon,—all seemed to say that Bill had had letters from somebody,—and poor Patty fell a victim to the green-eyed monster, and jealousy gnawed at her heartstrings.
The messenger came and Patty gave him the important envelope, feeling a pride in her ability to help, yet still downcast about the blue ribboned packet.
When Farnsworth arrived at the party that night, Patty determined to ask him to explain. She had had half a dozen minds about the matter, first decided to make no mention of it, then concluding she could never be happy again until she had heard his confession or defence. Perhaps some infatuated little goose had written to him,—and, perhaps he had never even answered her. But then, why keep them so carefully and so sentimentally?
In a dainty fluffy white frock, Patty awaited Farnsworth’s coming. The party was a large one, but in the Barrett house were many alcoves and nooks where one could hold a tête-à-tête.
And so, it was in one of these that Bill finally found his disconsolate little love.
“Hello, Sweetness,” and the familiar voice reached her ears just before Farnsworth strode into view. With a quick glance around, he took her in his arms for a swift, silent kiss.
“Oh, be careful!” breathed Patty. “Some one will see us!”
“Not so; I reconnoitred first. And how is my Posy Blossom?”
“All right,—that is, ’most all right,——” and Patty looked doubtfully at the loving face bending above her own.