“Now, you mustn’t let me be a burden to you in any way, my dear,” Mrs. Allen said, after the two were left alone. “Whenever I can help you, or whenever you want a chaperon, I’m entirely at your service; but when I’m not necessary to your plans, don’t consider me at all,—and don’t think about entertaining me, for I can look after myself. I’m never lonely or bored.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Allen,” said Patty. “I’m sure we shall get on most beautifully together, and anything you want or want to do, I want you to give your own orders, just as if you were in your own home.”
And so the two had many pleasant times together. They went to matinées, teas, and concerts, to picture exhibitions, and to card parties. Mrs. Allen did not care for dances, but went gladly when it was a party where Patty required a chaperon.
All of the young people liked Mrs. Allen, and she became well acquainted with all of Patty’s friends.
Bill Farnsworth was still in New York. His plans were uncertain, and often changed from day to day, owing to various details of his business.
He called on Patty occasionally, but not often, and his calls were short and formal.
“I like that big Western chap,” Mrs. Allen said to Patty one day; “but he seems preoccupied. Sometimes he sits as if in a brown study, and says nothing for quite some minutes. And then, when you speak to him, he answers abruptly, as if bringing his mind back from faraway thoughts.”
“I daresay he’s very much wrapped up in his business, Mrs. Allen,” said Patty. “They say he’s trying to swing a big mining proposition,—whatever that means.”
“It may mean a great many things,” said Mrs. Allen, thoughtfully. “I hope he’s all right, Patty.”
“All right! Big Bill Farnsworth all right? Well, I rather guess he is!”