Seven Miles to Arden

amples of white, shimmering crêpes and satins. She fingered them absent-mindedly, her mind caught in a maze of wed

ian Berkeleys. It could figure her income down to a paltry hundred of the actual amount. It knew her age to the month and day. In fact, it had kept her calendar faithfully, from her coming-out party, t

her engagement to young Burgeman. Hence the shimmering samples

d with her, to lend dignity and chaperonage to her position; but she managed her own affairs, social and financial, for herself. If the world had been asked to

him as the Rich Man's Son. That was

ding, chrysanthemums, and oak leaves. But June offers so many possible variations. Besides, that gives us both one last, untrammeled season in

he great Schuyler library. "There's a young person giving the

ws. "Why-it can't be. The entire company went back weeks ago. What i

nodded am

. I know it c

irm grip of Patsy's shoulders while she looked down with moc

go home with the others-and wha

"Sure, they're after needing a pinch of nort

or almost any other girl. But Patsy was oblivious of the comparison-oblivious of the fact that she looked like a wood-thrush neighboring with a bird of paradise. Her brown Norfolk suit was a shabby affair-positively clamoring for a successor; the boyish brown be

rie Schuyler, "where have

ll-I've been taking u

you going over with the

ll they knew about lung disorders-and fresh-air treatment, and then they dismis

! What are you

mouth; it acted as if it wanted to run loose all over he

leaned forward a trifle. "

d gloves clasped the slender hands of the American protot

rgeman, son of

King

new name

painter, a thinker, a dreamer-some one who ought not to be bound down by his heels to the earth for bread-gathering or shelter-building? You could have cut the tho

iam Burgeman is the most conventional young gentleman I have ever met in my life. You would sh

that's what. His father's so

y Burgeman does lack? Sometimes I've wondered if it was not having a mother, or growing up without brothers or sisters, or living all alone with his father in that great, gloomy, walled-i

hruppence worth of truth in them, it might

of money; it's just so much beans or shells or knives or trading pelf with him; something to exchange for what he calls the

hat-Billy o

-on his own merits; and he's not going to let him into the firm until he's worth at least five thousand a year to so

or character?"

oked at her sharply.

ring that would come to a son of King Midas, I'm thinking. I'd

site in the warm, friendly compass of those vagabond gloves. "Do ye reall

sh question! Why should I be marrying hi

t the king, growing up all alone in a gloomy old castle, with no one

's voice, pitched overhigh; it came from somewhere beyond and bel

s Billy now. I'll bring him in and let you see for your

ssly. They must have met just the other side of the closed hanging

o, Bi

ling to trust him over a dreadful bungle until he could stra

eman! What

If a girl loves a man sh

ppose

dear. What would the

intensity and appeal. Patsy rose, troubled in mi

d her. It opened on a dumbwaiter shaft, empty and impressive. Patsy's expression would have scored a hit in farce comedy. Unfortunately there was no audience present to appreciate it here, a

old you,

of his voice and what he was saying, but she knew even then she would g

father's vice-president.... Of course the cashier knew me.... I tell you I can't explain-not

did you forge tha

it forged or saw it forged? I tell you I cashed

prove it; people wouldn't have to know the rest-t

ve been staring at each other, too bewildered or shocked to speak. The one inside clutched her th

onsibility of it and whatever penalty comes along with it. I don't believe father will ever tell. He's too proud; it would strike back at him too hard. But you would have to know; he'd tell you; and I wanted to tell you first myself. I want to go away knowing you

wer she, the girl he loved, would make. It came at last, slowly, d

some wretched hole, and forging your father's name was the only way out of it. I suppose you think the circumstances, whatever they may be, have warranted the act; but that act puts a stigma on you

tood with a vagabond glove pressed hard over her mouth-quite unconscious that the cry had escaped and that there was no l

is he-y

please don't

tand? He mustn't go away with no one believing in him

o the floor? What's happened to your feet? For Heaven's sake, lift them and let them take ye after him. Don't ye hear? There's the front d

ty, bewilderment, pity, and despair swept over Patsy's face like clouds s

e this day and scraps of what he had to say for himself; but I believe in him. I know he never forged that check-or used the money for any mean use of his own. I'd wager he's shielding

alked slowly, regally, across the library and passed between the hangings which curtained her den. Her eyes, probably by pure chance, g

by spaniel, "that it will not be even a June wed