Mrs. Brewster had tied a chiffon scarf over Patty's hair, and as Patty looked up in Farnsworth's face, the moonlight illumined her own face until she looked more like a fairy than a human being.
"Apple Blossom!" said Big Bill, under his breath. "I never shall find a more perfect name for you than that! Now, tell me what it's all about. Hurry up, we haven't much time."
"But—but I'm so surprised! Why are YOU here, instead of Mr. Peyton?"
"Because I wanted to ride home with you."
"So did he."
Farnsworth shrugged his broad shoulders, as if to say that what Peyton wanted was a matter of utter indifference to him. "Go on," he said briefly, "tell me what it's all about."
"I don't know what you mean! What's all WHAT about?"
"The way you're treating me. The last time I saw you was last winter; at the Hepworths' wedding, to be exact. We were friends then,—good friends. Then I came up here,—yesterday. I threw your own flowers in at your window, and you came and smiled at me and said you were glad to see me. Didn't you?"
"Yes," said Patty, in a faint little voice.
"Yes, you DID. And then,—then, Apple Blossom, when you came down stairs later, playing May Queen, you scarcely looked at me! you scarcely spoke to me! You wouldn't dance with me!"