The whole crowd went out on the steps to see Patty off, and Mr. Brewster tucked her in, while Bob Peyton cranked the car.

“All aboard,” said Peyton, straightening himself up, at last; and then, somehow,—­and Patty never knew how it happened,—­somebody jumped into the seat beside her, somebody grasped the steering-wheel, and the little car flew down the road and out at the gate, and even before Patty looked up to see the face of the man beside her, she knew it was not Mr. Peyton!

She looked up, and saw smiling at her the blue eyes of Bill Farnsworth.

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!”

“But you only asked me because—­”

“Don’t tell that story again!  Because Adele told me to ask you, is utter rubbish, and you know it!  That isn’t why you wouldn’t dance with me.  No-sir-ee!  You had some other reason, some foolish crazy reason, in your foolish crazy little noddle!  Now out with it!  Tell me what it is!  Own up, Posy-Face.  You heard something or imagined something about me, that doesn’t please your ladyship, and I have a right to know what it is.  At least, I’m going to know, whether I have a right or not.  What is it or who is it that has interfered with our friendship?”

Patty looked up at Bill and read determination in his face.  She knew it was no time for chaffing or foolishness.  So she only said, as she looked straight at him,—­“Miss Morton.”

“Miss Morton! for Heaven’s sake, what do you mean?”

“The girl you’re engaged to.”

“The girl I’m engaged to!  Patty, have you taken leave of your senses?”