CHAPTER XVI
A STOLEN POEM
After supper there was dancing, and Patty was besieged by would-bepartners. Good-naturedly she fractioned her dances, and even dividedthe short intermissions between them. Everybody wanted to dance withthe smiling little person in red velvet, and her pretty gaiety salvedthe wounds of those whom she was obliged to refuse.
At last, Farnsworth came to her, and his determined expression toldPatty he was about to lay down the law.
Sure enough, he took her hand in his, drew it through his arm, and ledher out of the dancing room.
"Without even a 'by your leave?'" and Patty looked up at him,inquiringly.
"Without it or with it. But you can't dance any more tonight. You'reso tired you can scarcely stand up now."
"That's so, now that you speak of it. But I hadn't realised it."
"Of course you hadn't. You're crazy, when it comes to dancing!"
"Well, you're not. You haven't danced with me once tonight, exceptthat old country dance."
"Did you want me to? Were you lacking for partners?"
"_Me_! Lacking for partners! Am I, usually?"
"Oh, Patty, what a little Vanity Box you are! No, you never lack forpartners or attention or flattery,--all you ever lack is a littlecommon sense."
"Why-ee! Little Billee! I've always prided myself on my common sense.But where are you taking me?"
"Not very far. There's a comfy window-seat in this little receptionroom, where you can rest a bit, then I'm going to send you home."
"Oh, you are! And who constituted you my Major Domo, or CommandingOfficer, or Father Superior, or whoever it is that orders people about?"
"I don't order; I persuade, or induce, by power of my irresistiblecharm." Farnsworth's blue eyes twinkled, and Patty laughed outright,as she said, "Yes, I noticed the irresistibility as I left the Blaneys'tonight!"
"And, that's the very subject I was about to discourse upon,--theBlaneys, I mean. But first, let me make you comfy."
Farnsworth led Patty to the spacious, cushioned window-seat, and piledsoft pillows at her back, and tucked an ottoman beneath her feet, andthen sat down beside her. The little room was deserted by the dancers,and though some of the guests strolled in and out, occasionally, therewas ample opportunity for real conversation.
"It's this way, Patty," Farnsworth began. "I know Sam Blaney, and youdon't. I knew him years ago, and though I've not seen him of lateyears, he's the same old two and sixpence."
"And a very attractive two and sixpence," declared Patty, an obstinateexpression coming into her face. "You see, Little Billee, either youlike wise, brainy people, or you don't. I do."
"I know you do, and so do I. But the Blaney crowd are neither wise norbrainy. They are frauds."
"Do you mean conscious frauds? Wilfully deceptive?"
"To a certain degree, yes. They do fool themselves, sometimes, intothinking they are sincere, but they can't even fool themselves all thetime,--let alone other people."
"Your observations do not interest me." Patty's air was lofty, shelooked away into space, as if bored to death with her companion.
"Would it interest you to know that I know Sam Blaney to be a fraud anda dishonest man?"
"I have heard you say that one's friends should be sacred fromdisparaging remarks."
"True enough. But, in the first place, Blaney isn't my friend, andeven if he were, I should sacrifice him or his friendship for you."
"Why?"
"Never mind why. Oh, Patty, rely on my judgment, rely on my word inthis matter, and don't have anything more to do with that rubbishbunch!"
"Look here, Little Billee, if that's all the subject you can find totalk about, I believe I'd rather go back and dance. I'm rested now."
"Sit still, Lady Gay. While we're on this subject, we're going tofight it to a finish."
"You mean you're going to fight me to a finish. Go on, it won't takelong."
"You poor little girl,--you are tired, I know. Well, to make a longstory short, then, you must break with these Cosmic people, because, ifyou don't, it will harm your social standing and injure yourreputation."
"Why? They're absolutely correct and high-minded. They're a littleunconventional, maybe, but they're interesting and worth while."
"But they're frauds, Patty. And they've taken you up, because you're asocial favourite, and you add lustre to their list."
"And they don't care for me, personally!"
"Now, don't flare up. Of course they like you, personally,--whodoesn't? But they make you think you're brainy and soulful and alittle old deep-thinker--and,--you're not, you know."
"Well! You _are_ complimentary! What am I, pray? An ignoramus?"
"Hardly that. You're the sweetest, loveliest girl God ever made, butyou're not a blue-stocking. You're not college bred, or evenwell-read."
"Do you know you're a very horrid person? Do you know I wouldn't standsuch talk from many people?"
"I should hope not. Very few people know you well enough or love youwell enough to tell you these truths."
"I know somebody who loves me too much to talk to me like that."
"Van Reypen, of course. But, Patty, he doesn't approve of the Blaneycrowd, either, and you know it."
"That's because he doesn't understand them, and----"
"Wait a minute. Just what do you mean by understand them? They speakEnglish, I suppose."
"How dense you are! There is much beside language of _words_ to beunderstood by kindred----"
"Don't you dare say souls!"
"I will,--I _do_ say _souls_! That's what has no meaning for you!"
"Go on, Posy Face! You're pretty stunning when you get really stirredup!"
Farnsworth's face broke into a broad smile, and Patty was so amazed athis sudden change of manner that it irritated her.
"Oh, I am, am I! Well, other people have thought so, too. To theextent of putting it into poetry--real poetry!"
"Such as what?"
Farnsworth was so cynical of tone, that Patty broke her pledge ofsecrecy to the small extent of quoting a few words from the poem Blaneyhad given her.
"Such as this," she cried:
"----perhaps because her limpid face Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein The dimples found no place to anchor and Abide."
"That is poetry, indeed!" agreed Farnsworth, looking at herquizzically. "Did you say it was written to you?"
"Yes, Sam Blaney wrote it, to me. I didn't mean to tell you, it's aconfidential matter,--but you were so horrid about him----"
"Wait a minute, Patty. Is that an original poem, that Blaney wrote foryou alone?"
"Yes, it is. I promised not to tell it to anybody, so I'll ask you tosay nothing about it."
"Tell me more of it."
"No, I won't. I promised not to."
"You needn't. _I'll_ tell _you_ what comes next:
'----perhaps because her tresses beat A froth of gold about her throat, and poured In splendour to the feet that ever seemed Afloat.'
Isn't that it?"
"Yes! How did you know?" Patty's startled eyes were wide in amazement.
"You dear little goose. I hate to give you a shock, Posy-girl, butthose lines were written by a not altogether obscure poet,--one JamesWhitcomb Riley."
"What! It's no such thing! Mr. Blaney wrote them about me! Theybegin----"
"Wait! Don't break your promise of confidence. They begin:
"'I loved her.--Why? I never knew.' Don't they?"
"Yes, that's the poem Sam Blaney wrote for me----
"But he chanced to write it after Riley did--not before. Strange theywere so similarly inspired, wasn't it?"
"William Farnsworth, do you mean to tell me that that is a poem ofRiley's,--and Sam Blaney palmed it off on me as his own!"
"It looks that way, Patty. At any rate, those are Riley's lines. I'veknown the thing for years. It's a favourite of mine."
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p; "But I've a book of Riley's,--it isn't in that."
"My child, you mustn't get annoyed with me, when I tell you you're notdeeply versed in book-lore,--or deeply booked in verse-lore! For it'strue. I admit that is not one of the poet's best known bits,--it's in'Flying Islands of the Night,'--but it is so exquisite that it ought tobe better known. And, by the way, Patty, if you thought Blaney didthat gem, I don't wonder you admired him. But, dear little girl, doyou see now that the man is capable of deception?"
Patty looked deeply troubled. "You're sure, Billee,--you're _positive_about this?"
"As sure as I am of my own name."
"Then I want nothing more to do with Sam Blaney or any of his crowd.I'll never forgive it. Why, he wrote the poem while I sat looking athim,--just as fast as he could scribble."
"Doesn't that seem to prove it? He knew Riley's lines, and wrote themdown. I doubt if the greatest poet that ever lived scribbled lineslike that, offhand."
"Of course they couldn't! You've done it, Little Billee. You'vesmashed my idols, blown up my air castles, knocked the pedestals fromunder my heroes----"
"I'm sorry, dear,--but when they are unworthy idols and heroes----"
"And they are! I see it all now. I banked on Mr. Blaney's geniusmostly on account of that poem. But, as you say, the very fact that hemade me promise not to show it to anybody--but I don't need to proveit. You tell me it's Riley's, and there's no further question aboutit."
"I'll send you the book, Patty. You'll enjoy it all."
Patty smiled. "I don't want it in corroboration of your assertion, butI'd love to have it. I'd like to know more poetry, Billee. As you sodelicately hinted, my education on such matters is a little lacking."
"That's your own fault," said Farnsworth, bluntly. "Poetry isn't athing to learn at school,--but alone, and at odd times and moments."
"It seems queer," and the earnest little face gazed into his, "for youto know such a lot about poetry. You're so----"
"Go on; don't mind hurting me. So uncouth, awkward, clumsy, lackingin--er--understanding, wasn't it?"
Farnsworth spoke bitterly, and his deep blue eyes were clouded.
"No," Patty returned, gently, "no, I didn't mean all those horridthings, and you know it! I meant, you're so busy with your mines andthings, and so wrapped up in your business that it's surprising to knowyou have time for poetry."
"It's _my_ theory that one can always find time for anything he reallywants to do?"
"Can he? Do you suppose, then, you could find time to teach me alittle bit about poetry, and how to study it,--or, don't you reallywant to do this?"
Farnsworth looked at her, and a great and tender light came into hiseyes. Then, with a quick smile, he said, lightly, "Yes, indeed; I'llmake out a list of books for you tomorrow. May I send them to you?"
Patty was aware of a sudden lack of enthusiasm in Farnsworth's manner,and with equal coolness, she said, "Thank you, that won't be necessary.Just send the list, and I can get them. And, now I think I must beginto commence to think about considering going home."
"Yes, it's late. Who's taking you?"
"I'm going with Mr. and Mrs. Morrison. They kindly asked me."
"Very well. Will you go now?"
"Yes, please. And, I--I want to thank you for setting me straightabout the Blaneys."
"Don't include Alla. I doubt if she'd do a deceptive thing. But allthe same, Patty, she's no friend for you. You don't care for her, doyou?"
"No; I did at first, she interested me----"
"I know; 'interested you strangely,' as the novelists say."
"Yes, just that. She is so queer and unusual and----"
"Well, not to put too fine a point upon it, freakish."
"I suppose so. But I liked it all, at first. I don't mind owning up Iwas getting a little tired of it. It didn't----"
"It didn't make good, did it? But you're through with it now. Howwill you break it all off, without unpleasantness--for you?"
"Oh, I can manage that by my tactful nature. I mean, with Alla. Ishan't bother to be specially tactful with Sam. Need I be?"
"No. When a man has practised a fraud like that on you, he deserves noconsideration whatever."
"And tell me, Little Billee, tell me quickly, for I must really begoing, how did you walk in there and kidnap me so easily?"
"I had a sort of notion that you ought to be looked after. Channingwas here, laughing over some of the details of the Blaney party that hehad heard of, and when he told about your dance,--well, Patty, I'll behonest with you. I wanted to see that dance. You know how I love yourdancing. Also, I wanted to know just what the dance was,--for I knowGrantham."
"The dance was all right, Billee?"
"Yes, perfectly all right, only I'd rather you'd worn sandals. But itwas a wonderful dance,--exquisite, poetic, all that is beautiful. Iwent in, reminded Sam of our old acquaintance, and he welcomed medecently, if not over-cordially. I saw one or two numbers on theprogram before yours, and I concluded I didn't want you mixed up withthat bunch. They're right enough, but their unconventionality andultra Bohemianism are not the element in which Patty Fairfield belongs.Then came your dance. Unspeakably lovely, all that it ought to be, butnot for that herd of idiots! So, I made up my mind I'd persuade you togo home with me,--pretty much instanter! I told Blaney I intended totake you. He was mad all through, and denied my right to ask you toleave his party. But,--well, I reminded him of a few of our pastmemories--memories fraught with sadness!--to put it poetically,--and hemade no further objections to my carrying out my own sweet will----"
"And so you carried out----"
"My own sweet girl! Exactly! Patty, you little rogue, you musn'tbewitch me like that! If you do, I'll pick you up again, and carry youoff--oh, here comes Mrs. Morrison. Have _you_ come to carry Patty off?"
"Yes," and Mrs. Morrison looked regretful. "I'm sorry, Patty, dear,but really----"
"It's time! Yes, I know it, and I'm quite ready to go. Good night,Little Billee."
"Good night, Patty. Get a good rest, for you really need it."
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