CHAPTER XV
IN THE ARBOUR
After returning from her motor ride with Roger, Patty went to her room to write some letters.
But she had written only so far as "My dearest Nan," when a big pink rose came flying through the open window and fell right on the paper.
Patty looked up, laughing, for she knew it was Bill who threw the blossom.
The bay window of Patty's boudoir opened on a particularly pleasant corner of the upper veranda,—a corner provided with wicker seats and tables, and screened by awnings from the midday sun. And when Patty was seated by her desk in that same bay window, half-hidden by the thin, fluttering curtain draperies, Big Bill Farnsworth had an incurable habit of strolling by. But he did not respond to Patty's laughter in kind.
"Come out here," he said, and his tone was not peremptory, but beseechingly in earnest. Wondering a little, Patty rose and stepped over the low sill to the veranda. Bill took her two little hands in his own two big ones, and looked her straight in the eyes.
"What part are YOU going to take in this foolish racket they're getting up?" he asked.
"I'm going to be Maid of the Mist," answered Patty, trying to speak as if she didn't care.
"Why aren't you going to be Spirit of the Sea?"