And then the other guests came and the party soon was in full swing.
Patty was among the gayest there. Her eyes shone and her smile was merry and sweet. But a flush showed on each pink cheek, and Farnsworth kept watch of her as she danced or engaged in light banter with the young people.
Helen Barlow was frankly delighted with the party. She was a belle, indeed, for she was a charming dancer and her never-failing fund of fun and laughter kept her partners enchanted.
“I like to dance with you,” she said to Farnsworth, “’cause you’re so big. It’s like dancing with one of the statues in the park.”
“Why do you girls look on me as a statue?” he returned, laughing. “There’s nothing statuesque about me.”
“No; not that, it’s your heroic size——”
“I hope that’s not all my heroism!”
“I hope so, too. But are you going to need heroism? Bravery, I mean, and courage and all that. I thought you were only going to teach the young engineers how to shoot.”
“That’s part of my duty, but there may be other work cut out for me.”
“That’s what Patty thinks. She thinks,—because you can’t tell her all about it,—that you’re going to be called to some fearful danger——”