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Page 42
"'Tisn't pretty enough for you. Only a chap like Austin Dobson
could make poetry about you."
The earnest sincerity in the big blue eyes of the Westerner robbed
the words of any semblance of impertinence, and Patty spoke out
her surprise.
"Why, do you read Austin Dobson? I never thought--"
She paused, lest she hurt his feelings by her implication, but
Farnsworth went on, quietly:
"You never thought a big, hulking fellow like me could appreciate
anything exquisite and dainty, either in poetry or in people," he
said. "I don't blame you, Miss Fairfield; I am uncouth,
uncultured, and unmannered. But I am fond of books, and, perhaps
by the law of contrast, I am especially fond of the Minor Poets."
"You shan't call yourself those horrid names," said Patty, for his
tones rang true, and she began to appreciate his honest nature;
"no one can be uncouth or uncultured who loves such reading. Don't
you love the big poets, too?"
"Yes; but I suppose everybody does that. I say, won't you come
outside for a bit? That room is stuffy, and the air out here now
is great. Couldn't you skip down with me for a whiff of the sea?"
"Why, I ought to be dressing for dinner."
"Oh, there's lots of time yet. Come on. Don't tell anybody, just
fly out at this window, like Peter Pan, and we'll elope for half
an hour."
Acting impulsively, Patty swung herself through the low window,
and had descended the picturesque outside stairway that led from
the upper veranda to the lower one before she remembered Daisy's
prohibition.
"Oh, I think I won't go down to the beach," she said, suddenly
pausing at the foot of the stairs. "I must go right back."
"Nothing of the sort," and Farnsworth grasped her arm and fairly
marched her along the path to the gate. "You're not a quitter, I
know, so what silly notion popped into your head just then?"
Patty laughed outright at his quick appreciation of her mood.
"Well," she parried, "you see, I don't know you very well."
"All the more reason for snatching this chance to get acquainted."
"Somebody might see us."
"Let them. It's no crime to stroll down to the beach."
"Somebody might object to my monopolising you like this."
"Who, Mona?"
"No; not Mona."
"Who, then?"
"Is there no one who might justly do so?"
"No, indeed! Unless Mrs. Parsons thinks I'm neglecting her."
"Nonsense. I don't mean her. But, what about Miss Dow?"
"Daisy Dow! Well, Miss Fairfield, I'm a blunt Westerner, and I
don't know how to say these things subtly, but when you imply that
Daisy has any special interest in me, you do me undeserved honour.
I've known her for years, and we're good chums, but she'd have no
right to comment if I walked down to the sea, or into it, or
across it. NOW, will you be good?" They had reached the beach, and
stood looking at the great rollers coming in, their white crests
tinged by the last rays of the setting sun, which flashed a good-
bye at them from the opposite horizon.
"It's fortunate you Eastern people have a sea," Farnsworth said,
as he gazed across the black distance, "or you wouldn't know the
meaning of the word space. Your lives and living are so cramped."
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