“What is Zip?”

“Never mind; don’t interrupt.  I think you are the most adorable fluff of femininity in the world,—­and I know I love you, and I want you for all my very own.  Patty,—­darling,—­tell me now what you think of me.”

“Oh, Bill, don’t say such things to me,—­please, don’t!” And Patty’s overstrung nerves gave way, and she began to cry.

“I won’t, dear,—­I won’t, if it bothers you,” and Big Bill’s arm went round her in such a comforting way that Patty wept on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t,—­don’t think me a silly,” she said, smiling up at him through her tears, “but—­I’m so tired, and sleepy,—­if you could just wait till morning,—­I’d tell you then what I think of you.”

“Very well, dear, I’ll wait.”

“No, you needn’t, I’ll tell you now,” and Patty suddenly drew away from Bill’s arm and faced him bravely.  “I’m a coward,—­that’s what I am!  And I cried because,—­because I can’t say what you want me to, and—­and I hate to hurt your feelings,—­because I like you so much.”

“Patty! do you know what you’re talking about?”

“Yes, I do!  But I can’t seem to say it out plain, without hurting your nice, big, kind heart.”

“Let me say it for you, little girl.  Is it this?  Is it that you like me as a friend, and a comrade—­chum, but you don’t love me as I love you, and you’re afraid it will hurt me to know it?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it!  How did you know?”

“You told me yourself, unconsciously.  Now, listen, my girl.  I only love you more for being brave and honest about it.  And I love you more still for your dear, kind heart that can’t bear to hurt anybody.  And to prove that love, I’m not going to say any more to you on this subject,—­at least, not now.  Forget what I have said; let us go back to our good comradeship.  I startled you; I spoke too soon, I know.  So forget it, my apple blossom, and remember only that Little Billee is your friend, who would do anything in the world for you.”

“You’re an awfully nice man,” said Patty, not coyly, but sincerely, as she laid her hand on his arm a moment.

“Now you have told me what you think of me!” cried Farnsworth, gaily, and taking the little hand he held it lightly clasped in his own.  “And I thank you, lady, for those kind words!  Now, you can look at the moon just a minute longer, and then you must fly, little bird, to your nest in the tree.”

“Yes, I must go.  Tell me, Little Billee, where did you learn to dance so well?”

“It’s mostly my natural grace!  I took a few lessons of a wandering minstrel, out home, but I don’t know the technique of it, as you and that ornamental captain do.”

“But you could learn easily.  Shall I teach you?”

“No,—­Apple Blossom, I think not.”

“Oh, there won’t be time.  You said you’re leaving to-morrow!  Must you go?”