"I do understand, Phil, and I think you're splendid! I want to keep on being your friend,—but I don't want you to think—-"
"No, dear; I promise not to think that you are giving me undue encouragement,—for that is what you're trying to say. And you mustn't let my hopes or desires trouble you. Always treat me just exactly as you feel toward me, with gay comradeship, with true friendliness, or whatever is in your heart. But always remember that I am still loving you and waiting and hoping."
Philip gave Patty one long look deep into her eyes, and then, with an entire change of manner, he said lightly, "Now, my lady fair, if you are rested, suppose we walk back to the house?"
"I am rested," and Patty jumped up, "so you won't have to do what I feared,—take me home in a wheelbarrow."
Van Reypen looked at her quizzically.
"Do you remember," he said, "the classic poem from which that quotation is taken?"
"It's from Mother Goose, isn't it?"
"Yes; but if you recollect, it was a bachelor gentleman who went to
London. And when he returned he brought a WIFE home in a wheelbarrow.
I'm not having quite THAT experience."
"No," said Patty, demurely, "but you haven't any wheelbarrow."