"Oh, because Daisy is more intellectual, I suppose, and I'm----" "Yes, and you're just a little piece of vanity, who cares only for dress and finery." Farnsworth was having his innings now. Patty had hurt his feelings, and she knew it; and so, he was teasing her in return. Daisy laughed at Patty's unmistakable chagrin, and ran away downstairs to claim her books. It so chanced that there was no one else in Patty's boudoir at that moment. Everybody had flocked to the next room to see a new consignment of treasures displayed, and Farnsworth and Patty were alone. "Yes," he said, looking straight at her, "I did buy the Riley set for you. But as you're so averse to accepting my ostentatious offerings, I thought better to give it to Daisy. And I had another reason, too." "I'm glad you did," said Patty, coldly; "and I wish you had given her this also." She began to draw off the kimono, but Farnsworth took a step toward her, and with one big swoop, gathered her into his arms. "Apple Blossom!" he whispered, "my little Apple Blossom girl!" So impulsive and all-embracing was the action, so swift the kiss that fell on Patty's pink cheek, and so quickly was she released, that she stood, gasping from breathlessness, and astonishment, as others began to return to the room. Van Reypen was among them, and he called out to Patty: "We've come for you. If your things aren't all sold, let somebody else look after them. We're going to supper now, and we want all our crowd together." Gratefully, Patty turned to him, her head still in a whirl from Farnsworth's audacity, and with Philip she went downstairs. CHAPTER XIX PATTY RUNAWAY The next day was Saturday, and Patty woke to a somewhat dismantled and disordered room. Her bed had been restored to its place, after the guests had departed the night before, but other appointments were a bit lacking. Nan had forbidden her to rise until noon, for the Bazaar had meant a large expenditure of strength and nerve force, and Patty was not robust. Before she rang for her morning chocolate, she thought over the events of the previous evening. She was furiously angry at Farnsworth. So much so, that she could think of little else. "How dared he?" she exclaimed to herself. "The idea of his thinking I am the sort of girl he can pick up and kiss like that!" And then her face grew pink with blushes and she buried it in a pillow because she realised she was not nearly so indignant as she ought to be! "Good heavens!" she thought, frantically. "Am I in love with Little Billee? With a Westerner? A self-made man? Why, he can't hold a candle to Phil for birth and name! And yet--oh, no, I'm not in love with him! He's too--too--he takes too much for granted. It's got to stop! Think how he carried me out of the Studio party! And last night! No wonder he walked off home without seeing me again! I wonder what he will offer by way of apology or explanation. I believe I'll ask him!"