"Why, I'm not even 'out,'" said Patty. "I'm to come out next winter, you know."
"Yes, and then you'll have lots of admirers, and they'll flatter you, but they won't spoil you. I know your sweet, simple, generous nature; it can't be spoiled, even by the foolishnesses of society." "Will YOU come to my coming-out party, Bill?"
"I don't know, perhaps so. I may see you before then. And I'll write to you, mayn't I, Apple Blossom?"
"Oh, yes, do! I love to get letters, and I know I'll love yours."
"DO love them, dear, and perhaps, through them, learn to love,—Jiminetty Christmas, Apple Blossom, I've just ten minutes to catch that train! Come on, dear, fly with me, at least to the railroad station!"
They flew, and by speeding the car, Barker just managed to reach the station in time. The ride was a silent one, but Farnsworth held Patty's hand in a close, warm pressure all the way. As they reached the platform, he bent over her and whispered:
"Good-bye, sweetheart, DEAR little Apple Blossom. Some day I shall come back and win you for my own. Until then, I shall just wait,—and love you."
A light kiss fell on the little hand he had been holding, and then Farnsworth flung himself out of the motor-car, and on to the platform of the already moving train.
"To the Country Club, Barker," said Patty.