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?"
"Because Guy asked Daisy to take that part."
"Yes! he asked her after you had refused to take it!"
"Refused! What do you mean?"
"Oh, I know all about it! You wrote a note to Martin, telling him
you wouldn't take the part, and asking him not to mention the
subject to you again.
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