CHAPTER VI
MAUDE’S CONFIDENCES
Meantime, Patty, in Miss Kent’s parlour, was singing her best. The scheme appealed to her very strongly. She was glad to assist the kind and beautiful lady, and moreover, she enjoyed an escapade of any sort, and this surely was one.
Miss Kent was delighted with her voice, and predicted an ovation for her. They selected several of Patty’s best songs, and had the accompanist in to rehearse with her.
“What about dress?” said Patty, after it was positively settled that she was to sing at the concert.
“I’ll ride over and get you whatever you want,” said Channing, anxious to be of service.
“Oh, no,” said Miss Kent, “that would be a shame for you to go to all that trouble. I have a little white tulle gown that can be made just right in a jiffy. I am a bit taller than Miss Fairfield, but a tuck will fix that. Now, here’s an important point. You see, the notices and the programmes all say M’lle Farini will sing. Shall we let it go at that? I mean, let Miss Fairfield impersonate M’lle Farini, or shall we have an announcement made at the opening of the concert, that Miss Fairfield is acting as substitute?”
“I’d rather let it go without the use of my name,” said Patty. “I don’t know as it would be quite right, but I’d love to let people think I was the Farini lady. It would be such fun.”
“Well,” said Miss Kent, “let’s just leave it. If we don’t say anything of course the audience will take it for granted that you are M’lle Farini. And if any objections are raised, or if it comes out afterward, I can say that I had to substitute you at the last moment, and there was no time to have new programmes printed.”
“That will be fine,” Patty declared; “I do love a joke, and this is really a good one, I think. Yes, let me be M’lle Farini, for one night only, and if the real owner of that name objects, why, it will be all over then, and she’ll have to take it out in objecting. But I shan’t disgrace her, even if I don’t sing as well as she does.”
“But you do, Miss Fairfield,” exclaimed Miss Kent; “she has a fuller, stronger voice, but yours has more melody and sweetness. You will remain here over night, of course.”
“Oh, I never thought about that!” and Patty looked a little alarmed. “I don’t know what Adele will say.”
“Oh, please do. You really must. I have two bedrooms in my suite, and I can make you very comfortable.”
“Well,” and Patty hesitated; “I’ll have to talk this thing over with Mrs. Kenerley. I’ll telephone her now, and if she is willing, I will stay here all night.”
So Patty called up Adele and told her the whole story.
Adele listened, and then she laughed, good-naturedly, and told Patty she could do as she liked. “I think it’s a harum-scarum performance,” she said, “but Jim says, go ahead, if you want to. You stay with your new friend all night. Of course you couldn’t come home after the concert. I suppose Mr. Channing will stay at that hotel, too. And then he can bring you home in the morning. What will you wear?”
Patty told her, and then she asked Adele not to tell the others what she was up to. “I’m afraid they’ll come over,” she said; “and I can carry it through all right before strangers, but if all you people sat up in front of me, giggling, I couldn’t keep my face straight, I know; so don’t tell them till after it’s over.”
“All right, girlie, I will keep your fateful secret locked in my heart till you bid me speak. Have a good time, and sing your sweetest.”
“Now that’s all right,” and Patty looked enchanted at the prospect of fun ahead. “I’m going to have the time of my life! You go away now, Chick, and Miss Kent and I will see about my frock. Shall we meet at dinner?”
“Yes, I want you two girls to dine with me. Do you know anybody, Maudie, to make a fourth?”
“No, wait, Chick. I don’t want to dine in public. Nor do I want Miss Fairfield to be bothered with a company dinner. I’ll tell you a better plan. She and I will dine alone, here in my little parlour. You get your dinner downstairs, by yourself, and then, after the concert is over, you can invite us to supper and we can talk it over.”
Channing acquiesced, and then he went away, not to see them again until supper time.
“You are so good, Miss Fairfield——”
“Oh, do call me Patty. I like it so much better.”
“I’ll be glad to. And you must call me Maude. It is a perfect Godsend, your helping me out like this. May I tell you just a little bit about myself?”
“I wish you would. And I’m so glad I can be of service to you.”
But first they must needs attend to the all-important matter of Patty’s frock, and sure enough, a white tulle of Maude’s was easily and quickly altered till it just fitted Patty. It was new and modish, made with full skirts and tiers of narrow frills. There was no lace or other trimming, save the soft tulle ruffles, and Maude decreed no jewelry of any sort, merely a few yellow roses at the belt,—the tiny mignon roses. These she ordered from the office, and by that time their dinner was served.
As they sat enjoying the few but well-chosen dishes that Maude had selected, she told Patty somewhat of her life, and Patty listened with interest.
“I have to support myself, my mother and a crippled sister,” Maude said, “and I had ambition to become a great actress. But after a fair trial, I found I could be at best only a mediocre actress. I found, however, that I had talent for organizing and arranging entertainments, and I concluded I could make more money that way than on the stage. So I took it up as a regular business, and I have succeeded. But this year has not been a very good one. I’ve had some misfortunes, and twice I didn’t get the money due me, because of dishonest assistants. And, I tell you truly, Patty, if I had lost five or six hundred dollars tonight, it would have been a hard blow. You have saved me from that, and I bless and thank you. Do you realize, little girl, what you are doing for me?”
“I’m so glad I can. Tell me about your sister.”
“Clare? Oh, she is the dearest thing! She never has walked, but in spite of her affliction she is the happiest, cheeriest, sweetest nature you ever saw. I love her so, and I love to be able to get little delicacies and comforts for her. See, here is her picture.”
Patty took the case and saw the portrait of a sweet-faced girl, little more than a child.
“She is a dear, Maude. I don’t wonder you love her. Oh, I’m so glad I happened over here today. Do you know Bill Farnsworth?”
“I met him once or twice the same winter I met Chick Channing. Mr. Farnsworth seemed very stiff and sedate. Chick is much more fun.”
“Chick is gayer, but Bill is an awfully nice man.”
“I was with a vaudeville troupe that year. It wasn’t very nice,—hard work and small pay. It was my last attempt on the stage. If I couldn’t be a big and fine actress I didn’t want to be any at all. So I’m glad I gave it up for this sort of work. This season is about over now, and I shall have entertainments in New York this winter. I’ve lots of influential patrons, and I hope for success. But I shall never forget your heavenly kindness in helping me out tonight. Now, perhaps, we had better be getting dressed.”
Patty made a careful toilette, for she wanted to look her best, and she succeeded. The soft dainty white tulle was exceedingly becoming, and she had done her hair the prettiest way she knew. Maude’s slippers were the least bit loose, but they looked all right, and Patty refused a loan of a pair of long white gloves.
“They’re not wearing them with evening gowns this season,” she said, “and I hate them, anyhow.”
“You’re right,” and Maude surveyed her critically. “Your arms are lovely,—so soft and dimpled. You are more effective without gloves.”
Through the opening numbers of the concert, Patty sat in the ante-room waiting her turn. She was not nervous or apprehensive, and when the time came, she walked out on the platform and bowed gracefully, with a cordial little smile.
She was to sing almost exactly the selections of M’lle Farini. But she had substituted others in one or two instances, and, of course, for encores, she could make her own choice.
And there were plenty of encores. Patty’s sweet voice charmed by its sympathy and grace, rather than by volume. And it made a very decided hit with the audience. They applauded continuously until Patty was forced to respond a second and a third time, after each of her numbers.
Channing, sitting in the audience, heard people saying, “Who is this Farini? I never heard of her before. Her voice is a little wonder!”
Miss Kent was delighted with Patty’s success. She had felt sure the hearers would like Patty’s music, but she did not expect such unanimous approval nor such enthusiasm.
Four times Patty was announced to sing, and as each was encored at least once, it made a good many songs. At the last appearance she was very tired, but she bravely endeavoured not to show it. She went through the number beautifully, but the deafening applause made it impossible for her not to give them one more.
“I can’t,” said Patty, as Maude came to her with entreaties. “I’m all in, as the boys say. Oh, well, I’ll sing one more little thing. No accompaniment at all, please, Maude.”
Then Patty returned to the platform and when the enthusiastic welcome ceased, she sang very softly a little cradle song. The haunting sweetness of the notes and the delicate languor of Patty’s tired voice made an exquisite combination more effective even than her other work. She finished in a pure, fine minor strain, and with a little tired bow, walked slowly from the stage.
Then the house went wild. They clapped and shouted brava! and demanded more. But the concert was over; Miss Kent made a little speech of thanks, and the footlights went out. Reluctantly, the people rose from their seats, but hung around, hoping to get a glimpse of M’lle Farini.
Patty’s sweet voice charmed by its sympathy
Patty’s sweet voice charmed by its sympathy
“It isn’t so much her voice,” Chick overheard somebody say, “as the way she has with her. She’s charming, that’s what she is, charming!”
“We can’t have supper in the dining-room,” Maude said, laughingly, to Channing. “Patty would be mobbed. Those people are just lying in wait for her.”
“But I want to,” cried Patty. “I’ve done the work, now I want the fun. Let’s have supper there. They won’t really come up and speak to me, when they don’t know me.”
“Won’t they!” said Maude. “But indeed you shall have supper wherever you like. You deserve anything you want. Come on, Chick, it’s to be just as Patty says.”
So to the supper-room they went, and there Patty became the observed of all. At first, she didn’t mind, and then it became most embarrassing. She could hear her name mentioned on all sides, and though it was always coupled with compliments, it made her uncomfortable to be so conspicuous.
“Though of course,” she said gaily, “they’re not talking about me, but about M’lle Farini. Well, I’m pretty hungry, Chick. Maude made me eat a light dinner, as I was going to sing. Now I want to make up. Can I have some bouillon, and some chickenà laking, and some salad, and some ice cream?”
“Well, well, what a little gourmande! Why, you’d have nightmare after all that!”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’m fearfully hungry. Honest I am.”
So Patty had her selection, and though she ate little of each course, she took small portions with decided relish.
“I feel like a new lady!” she declared when she had finished. “Is there dancing? Can I have a turn? I don’t want to go to bed yet.”
“Of course you can dance,” said Maude. “But you must remain M’lle Farini for the evening. Can you remember?”
“’Course I can. It’ll be fun. Besides, I’m only going to have one trot with Chick and then I’ll go by-by, like a good little girl.”
But, as might have been expected, after her one dance, Patty was besieged by would-be partners, clamouring for an introduction. The manager of the hotel was bribed, cajoled, and threatened in the various efforts of his guests to get introductions to Patty and to Miss Kent.
“Just one or two,” Patty whispered to Maude, and so two or three young men won the coveted presentation, and Patty was urged to dance.
But this she refused. She wanted to chat a little with these strangers, but she didn’t care to dance with men so lately made acquainted.
Channing acted as bodyguard, and his close inspection would have barred out any one he did not altogether approve of. But they were a nice class of men, polite and well-bred, and they were entertaining as well. Patty had a right down good time, and not the least part of the fun was the masquerading as another.
“You are staying here long, M’lle Farini?” asked Mr. Gaunt, an attractive man of musical tastes.
“No,” Patty replied, “I have to leave early in the morning. I’m due to sing at another hotel tomorrow night.”
“Ah, a near-by house?”
“Not very. Do you sing, Mr. Gaunt?”
“Yes, baritone. I’d like to sing with you. I’ve an idea our voices would blend.”
“I’m sure they would. I love to sing duets. But,” and pretty Patty looked regretful, “it cannot be. We will never meet again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I feel it. But tomorrow I’m going to have my fortune told. If the seer says anything about our future meeting, then I’ll look for you later on.”
“If the seer is a true soothsayer, and no fake, he can’t help telling you we will meet again; because it is a foregone conclusion.”
“Then I shall expect you and look forward to the meeting,” and Patty held out her hand to say good-night, for it was after midnight, and Maude was making signs for her to come with her.
But just then a clerk came toward them with a puzzled face. “There’s a telephone call for a Miss Fairfield,” he said; “and the speaker says she’s here with Mr. Channing. Are you Mr. Channing, sir?”
“Yes,” said Chick. “It’s all right. M’lle Farini has occasion to use different names in her profession. Which booth?”
“This way, sir.”
Channing, beckoning to Patty, followed the man, and whispered to her to take the message, as it must be from some of the Freedom Castle people.
Patty went into the booth, and to her surprise was greeted by Philip Van Reypen.
“Well,” she exclaimed, a little annoyed, “is this a habit? Do you expect to call me up every night at midnight?”
“Now, Pattykins, don’t get mad. I called you up to apologize for what I said last night. I take this hour, ’cause I know you’re all wrapped up in people all day, and only at night do you have a moment to waste on me, and Imusttell you how sorry I am that I was rude to you.”
“Rude, how?”
“Why, telling you I was coming up there whether you asked me or not. You don’t want me to, do you?”
“No, Phil, since you ask me plainly, Idon’t. Not but thatI’dlike to see you, but I’m here on Bill Farnsworth’s invitation, and since he didn’t ask you,——”
“Yes, I know. And it’s all right. I don’t want to butt in where I’m not asked. And I’m sorry I called you up, if it bothered you. And——”
“All right, Phil. Now if you’ve any more to say, can’t you write it? For I’m just going to bed. Good-night.” And Patty hung up the receiver.
CHAPTER VII
THE FORTUNE TELLER
Next morning Patty and Maude had a cosy little breakfast in the latter’s apartment, and then, arrayed in her riding habit, Patty went down, to find Channing waiting for her on the veranda.
“Good morning, M’lle Farini,” he said gaily, “ready for a ride? Come along with us, won’t you, Maude?”
“No, thank you, Chick. I’m not altogether certain that Patty’s friends will forgive this performance and I’d be afraid to see them. But, oh, I can’t tell you both what it has meant to me, and I do hope you’ll have no cause to regret it.”
“Not a bit of it! I’ll fix it up all right,” and Chick looked very big and powerful. “If anybody goes for Patty, he’ll hear from me! See?”
“But I do want to see you again, Maude,” said Patty, as they bade farewell. “Shall you be here long?”
“Only two or three days, at most. I have another concert here tomorrow night, but I’m sure of my artists for that. Do ride over again, both of you.”
“We will,” promised Channing, and then the two cantered away.
“Here they come!” cried Daisy, as from the porch of Freedom Castle she spied the two equestrians.
Jim Kenerley was at the block to help Patty alight, and as she ran up the steps, Adele clasped her in a welcoming embrace.
“You dear child!” she said. “What an experience you have had. Sit down here and tell us all about it.”
So Patty told the whole story, exactly as it had happened, and Channing added details here and there.
Everybody was interested and asked all sorts of questions.
“Is it a nice hotel?” asked Mona. “Did you have any fun after the concert?”
“There was dancing,” said Patty, “but I was too scared, when people called me M’lle Farini, to enjoy it much. I wanted to get away. I’m glad I did it for Miss Kent, but—never again!”
“If she’s the Maude Kent I once knew, you had no business to have anything to do with her,” put in Farnsworth, in a gruff voice.
“She’s the Miss Kent Chick Channing knows, and that’s enough for me!” retorted Patty, and a little pink spot showed in either cheek, a sure sign that she was annoyed.
“Well, shall we go to the hermit’s?” said Elise, anxious to avert the impending scene. “Whatdoyou think, Patty, Kit has a toothache, and can’t go, after all.”
“Toothache!”
“Yes, a bad ulceration. He sent down word by Bobbink, that pet bellboy of his, that we were to go on without him. The boy will show us the way.”
“How ridiculous! Why not wait till tomorrow?”
“No, Kit says the hermit man expects us and we must go. You’ll go along, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course. Shall I change this rigging,—or go as I am?”
“Go as you are. It’s time we were off. Roger and Mona have gone on ahead, but as they went in the opposite direction, I am not sure they’ll get there before we do.”
“Those two have a fancy for going in the opposite direction,” laughed Patty; “ever notice it?”
“Not being stone blind, I have,” Elise admitted, and really the interest Roger and Mona had for each other became more apparent each day.
The Kenerleys declined to go on the hermit expedition, saying that they knew their “fortune,” and had no reason for questioning the future. So the others started.
Channing took possession of Patty, and merely saying “which way?” he led her across the wide lawn to the indicated path through the wood.
Elise followed, with Bob Peyton, who greatly admired the pretty New York girl. Farnsworth and Daisy Dow brought up the rear of the procession, and Bobbink, the ever useful courier, showed the way.
“Mr. Cameron says for you to do jes’ wot I says,” he announced, evidently greatly pleased at his position of power.
“Go ahead, Bobbink,” said Bill; “show us the way, but don’t talk too much.”
“Yassir. Dis way, ladies an’ gempmun.”
It was a beautiful walk, through the Autumn sunshine and forest shade. Now they crossed a tiny brook or paused to admire a misty waterfall, and again they found a long stretch of good State road.
And sooner than any one expected, they reached the shack.
“Dat’s de place,” announced Bobbink, and stood, pointing to the dilapidated shanty at the side of the road.
“Who’ll go in first?” asked Patty; “I’m scared.”
“I’m not,” and Daisy stepped nearer and peered curiously in at the door.
“Come in, woman!” said a strange, cracked old voice, and there followed a laugh like a cackle. “Come in, each and all.”
Daisy pushed in and Farnsworth stepped in, too, for he didn’t altogether like the sound of that laugh. Then they all crowded in and saw the old hermit, sitting in a hunched-up position on a pile of rugs in the corner of the hut.
“Which one first?” he muttered; “which pretty lady first? All have fortunes, wonderful fortunes coming to them.”
The old man’s garb was somewhat like that of a monk. A dingy robe was girdled with a hempen rope, and a cowl-shaped hood fell well over his brow. His face was brown and seamed and wrinkled with age, and he wore queer-looking dark glasses. On his hands were old gloves that had once been white, but were now a dingy grey, and he seemed feeble, and unable to move without difficulty.
But he was alert, doubtless spurred by the hope of getting well paid.
“You go first, Daisy,” said Patty; “then we’ll see how it works.”
“All right, I’m not afraid,” and Daisy extended her palm to the old man.
“Here, wait!” she cried; “don’t touch me with those dirty old gloves! Can’t I wrap my handkerchief round my hand?”
The hermit made no objection, and Daisy wound a fresh handkerchief about her fingers, leaving the palm exposed for the seer to read.
He began, in a droning voice:
“Pretty lady, your home is far away. You are not of this end of the country, but off toward the setting sun. You will return there soon, and there you will meet your fate. He awaits you there, a man of brain and brawn,— a man who has ambition to become the mayor of——”
“Hush!” cried Daisy, snatching her hand away from his gloved fingers; “Don’t you say another word! That’s a secret! I don’t want any more fortune! That man’s a wizard!”
Daisy moved across the room, putting all the distance possible between her and the seer. With startled eyes, she gazed at him, as at a world wonder.
“Pooh! That was a chance shot, Daisy,” said Elise. “Let me try, I’ve no secrets that I’m afraid he’ll reveal.”
Nor was she afraid of the grimy old glove, but put her finger tips carelessly into the old fellow’s hand.
“Pretty lady heart-whole,” declared the hermit. “Some day pretty lady fall in love, but not today. Some ’nother day, too! Pretty lady marry twice, two times! Ha, ha!”
“Silly!” said Elise, blushing a little, as she withdrew her hand. “I hate fortune telling. Next.”
Patty, a little reluctantly, surrendered her hand to the seer, who took it lightly in his own. “Pretty lady all upset,” he began. “So many suitors, all want pretty lady. But the fates have decree! The lady must marry with the—” he drew his hand across his eyes,—“I cannot see clearly! I see a cat! Ha, no! I have it! the pretty lady must marry with the Kit, ha, yes; the Kit!”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Patty, laughing, “have I really got to marry Kit! Kit who?”
“That the wizard cannot tell. Only can I read the name Kit. It is written in the lady’s fate.”
“But s’pose I don’t want to? S’pose I don’t like Kit as much as somebody else?”
“That makes nothing! It is fate. It may not be denied.”
“Well, all right. But I don’t care so much about my future husband. He’s a long way off. Tell me what will happen to me before he arrives.”
“Many adventures. You will today receive a letter——”
“Goodness, I get letters every day! Any particular letter?”
“Yes, a letter from one you love.”
“Ah, Daddy, I expect.”
“Nay, ’tis a younger man than your honourable parent. Then, soon the pretty lady will inherit fortune.”
“Now, that’s more interesting. Big fortune?”
“Oh,—my, yes! Large amount of moneys! And a journey,—a far journey.”
“I don’t care about the journey. Tell me more about the fortune. Who will leave it to me? Not my father, I hope.”
“Nay, no near relative.”
“That’s good; I don’t want my people to die. Well, anything more, Mister Hermit?”
“Beware of a dark lady——”
“Now I know you’re the real thing!” and Patty laughed merrily. “I’ve been waiting for the ‘dark lady’ and the ‘light-complected gentleman’ who always figure in fortunes. Well, what about the dark lady?”
“If the pretty miss makes the fun, there is no more fortune for her,” said the hermit, sulkily.
“I don’t mind, so long as you don’t take the money away.”
“Tell mine, then,” said Channing, as Patty resigned her place.
“You, sir, are an acrobat. You were employed in the Big Circus, the Hop—Hippodrome. When they discharged you, it was but temporary. Do not fear, you will regain your position there.”
“Why, you old wiz! How did you know that!” and Channing stared in pretended amazement; “I thought that episode in my career was a dead secret!”
“No episodes are secrets to me,” declared the hermit. “Shall I tell further?”
“No, I guess that will be about all,” and Channing moved quickly away from the strange old man.
Bob Peyton declined to have his past exposed to the public gaze; and he said he didn’t care to know what the future held for him, he’d far rather be surprised at his life as it happened. So Bill Farnsworth was the next to test the wizard’s powers.
“Big man,” said the hermit, solemnly, as he scanned the broad palm Bill offered for inspection. “Big man, every way; body, heart, soul,—all.”
“Thanks,” said Farnsworth, “for the expansive if ambiguous compliment. Be a little more definite, please. What am I going to have for dinner today? Answer me that, and I’ll believe in your wizardry.”
“Big man is pleased to be sarcastic. The hermit does not waste his occult powers on foolish questions. In a few hours you will know what you will have for dinner. Why learn now?”
“Why, indeed? All right, old chap, tell me something worth while, then.”
“That will I, sir! I’ll tell you your fate in wedlock. You will yet wed a lovely lady, who, like your noble self, is of the Western birth. She is——”
“Drop it, man! Never mind what she is! Let me tell you what you are! Friends, behold Mr. Kit Cameron!” With a swift movement, Farnsworth drew off the old gloves from the hand that held his, and exposed the unmistakable slim white hands of the musician, Kit.
“Oh, you fraud!” cried Patty. “I half suspected it all the time!”
“I didn’t,” exclaimed Daisy. “You fooled me completely!”
“Oh, my fortune!” wailed Elise. “Where are those two lovely fates of mine?”
“And all my money!” groaned Patty. “I feel as if you had misappropriated my funds, Kit.”
It had not been necessary further to remove Cameron’s disguise, it was enough to see his hands, and hear his merry laugh.
“Hist!” cried Peyton, who had looked out along the road. “Here come Roger and Mona. Let’s give them a song and dance.”
Kit drew on his old gloves again, and huddled into his crouched posture, just as the two came in at the hut’s door.
“Just in time!” said Channing. “We’ve all had our fortunes told and were just about to go home. Take your turn now.”
“I don’t like to,” said Mona, who was looking very happy and was blushing a little.
Keen-eyed Kit spied this. “Pretty lady,” he began, in his droning tones, and as he also had a slight knowledge of ventriloquism, he most effectually disguised his own voice, “give me your little hand.”
“Go on, Mona, we all did,” said Patty, and wonderingly, Mona held out her hand.
“Never saw I the future so plainly revealed!” declared the seer. “’Tis written as in letters of fire! Lady, thy fate is sealed. It is bound up with that of a true and noble knight, a loving soul, a faithful comrade. I see the blush that mantles your rosy cheek, I see the trembling of your lily hand, I see the drooped eyelashes that veil your dancing eyes, and I see, stretching far into the future, years of happiness and joy.”
Kit released Mona’s hand, and the girls crowded round her.
“What does he mean?” Daisy cried; “he spoke so in earnest.”
“Stay!” and the seer raised his hand. “Now will I tell the fortune of the noble gentleman who but now arrived. Your hand, fair sir.”
“Rubbish!” said Roger, disinclined for the performance.
“Go on, Farry,” said Farnsworth, smiling. “We all did. Go ahead.”
Roger gave over his hand, and the hermit rocked back and forth in glee. “Another clear writing of the fates!” he exclaimed. “I read of a happy future with the loved one. I read that only just now, within the hour, has the Fair said ‘yes’ to repeated pleadings, and the betrothal took place,——”
“Oh, I say!” and Roger tried to pull his hand from the hermit’s grasp.
“’Tis a fair tale I read,” went on the wizard, holding fast the hand he read; “two young hearts, made for each other, plighted by the singing brook—in the balmy sunshine—in a bower of roses by Bendemeer’s stream—oh, hang it, old chap, let me be the first to congratulate you!”
Kit flung off his cowl with one hand, while with the other he gripped Roger’s in a man-to-man grasp, and shook it heartily.
Then there was a small-sized pandemonium! The girls fell on Mona, kissing her and asking questions, while the men joined hands in a sort of war dance round Roger. Then they all made a circle round the engaged pair, and sang “Oats, Peas, Beans, and Barley Grows,” with the zest of a crowd of children.
“Perfectly gorgeous! I think,” cried Patty, as the excitement calmed down a little. “I sort of hoped it would be so, but I didn’t expect it quite so soon.”
“Neither did I,” said Mona, shyly: “but, you see——”
“Oh, yes, we see,” said Kit. “The picturesque spot,—the murmuring brook,—the whispering trees,—why, of course, you couldn’t help it! Bless you, my children! and now, I want somebody to go out and get engaged to me. Who will volunteer?”
“Not today, Kit,” said Patty, laughing. “Let troubles come singly for once. Today for this, tomorrow for yours. Come on, people, I can’t wait to get home and tell Adele!”
CHAPTER VIII
A RIDE TOGETHER
Adele was duly surprised and pleased to learn that Mona and Roger were engaged and declared they should have an announcement dinner that very night.
“Let’s make it a real party,” said Patty, “with a dance afterward.”
“As if we didn’t dance every night,” said Elise, laughing. “But it will seem more like a party if we put on our best frocks.”
“And decorate the table,” added Daisy.
So the girls put their heads together to see what they could do in the way of effective and appropriate decoration.
“We might give her a shower,” suggested Marie, after Mona had left the room.
“What sort of a shower? What could we buy and where could we buy it?”
“There’s that little bazaar down in the village, but there’s nothing decent there,” said Patty.
“No,” agreed Marie, “and we don’t want to give Mona cheap little gimcracks.”
“Well, we can’t have a shower, that’s out of the question,” declared Daisy.
“But Iwantto have a shower,” persisted Patty; “it will be no fun at all to give her a shower after we get back to New York. I’m going to invent some way to give it to her here.”
“But there isn’t any way——”
“Yes, there is, Daisy; now listen. Suppose we each give her some pretty trinket or thing of our own.”
“Huh! Worn out old things!”
“No, of course not! But I’ve a little pearl ring that Mona likes awfully well, and I care a lot for it myself, too. So I think it would be a nice gift, just because Idolike it myself.”
“That’s a good idea, Patty,” said Adele; “I have a white and silver scarf that Mona just raves over. It’s Egyptian, you know, and of some value. I think she’d like these things that we have personally used, quite as well as new things. You know Mona can buy anything she wants, but this personal note would touch her, I’m sure.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Daisy said, thoughtfully. “I’ve an exquisite lace handkerchief I’d like to give her. It’s one that was given to my mother by a French Princess.”
“Oh, Daisy, you don’t want to give that up.”
“Yes, I do. I’m fond of Mona, and I’m glad for her to have it.”
“I’ve a lovely fan,” Elise said, “do you think she’d care for it? It’s one of Duvelleroi’s,—signed.”
“Oh, she’d love it! We’ll have a wonderful shower. What have you, Marie?”
“I can’t think of anything worth while. Oh, yes, I have a centrepiece I’m embroidering for Christmas. It’s a beauty, and I can finish it this afternoon, or, if I don’t get it quite done, I can give it to her unfinished and put in the last stitches tomorrow.”
“Capital!” and Patty smiled at the success of her “shower” plan. “What do you think, Chick?” she went on, as that individual, never very far from Patty’s side, sauntered in, “we’ve the loveliest scheme!” And she told him of the shower. “I suppose you boys can’t be in it, for Mona wouldn’t want a jack-knife or pair of sleeve-links. And men don’t shower engaged girls anyway.”
“No, I suppose not. But what’s the matter with us men showering old Farrington? I’ll bet he’d love to be showered.”
“Oh, do!” and Patty clapped her hands. “Just the thing! Give him funny gifts, will you, Chick?”
“Of course I will. And I’ll make the others come across, too.”
Soon after luncheon, Patty had a telephone call which proved to be from Maude Kent. She begged Patty to come over to the hotel where she was, at once.
“Oh, I can’t,” said Patty. “We’re getting up a party for Mona, she’s just gone and got herself engaged to Roger Farrington, and we’ve got to do something about it.”
“Well, you can come over for a short time. Truly, it’s most important. Chick will whiz you over in a motor, and you can be back in two or three hours. What time is the party?”
“Oh, not till dinner time.”
“Then come on. I want you terribly, and you’d want to come if you knew what for. I can’t tell you on the telephone, it’s a secret.”
Chick was passing, and Patty beckoned to him. “Will you chauff me over to see Maude?” she asked, as she still held the receiver.
“To the ends of the earth, if you’ve the slightest desire to go there, my lady fair.”
“Well, all right, Maude. I’ll come, but only for a few minutes.”
“When do we start, queen of my heart?” and Channing bowed before her.
“In a few minutes. I’ll scoot and dress, and you meet me here at three sharp.”
“Your word is my bond. I’ll be on deck.”
Patty flew to her room and rang for the treasure of a Sarah. The girl was rapidly becoming a deft ladies’-maid, and when Patty merely said, “Rose Crêpe, Sarah,” she took from the wardrobe the pretty afternoon gown of rose-coloured crêpe de chine, and went at once to get silk stockings and slippers to match, as well as the right hat, veil, and accessories.
On time, Patty stood again in the hall. Channing appeared, and at the same time Kit Cameron strolled in.
“Oh, Kit,” said Patty, “howeverdidyou think of that crazy scheme of fortune telling?”
“My brain is full of nonsense, Patty, and sometimes it strikes out like that.”
“But about my fortune? Did you just make it all up out of the solid? Or was there any——”
“Car’s ready, Patty,” interrupted Channing. “Leave that investigation till we come back.”
“I don’t want to,” and Patty looked from one of the men to the other. “I want to hear about it now. I say, Kit, you drive me, instead of Chick, won’t you?”
“Oh, now, that isn’t fair!” and Channing looked decidedly annoyed. “You promised me, Patty——”
“No, I didn’t. I asked you. That’s quite different from promising. Now, don’t sulk, and I’ll give you an extra dance tonight.”
“Two?”
“Well, yes, two, then, you greedy boy. Now run away and play.”
“But is this all right?” said Kit, as he hesitated to take Channing’s place.
“It doesn’t seem so to me,” Chick retorted, “But what Miss Fairfield says, goes!”
He turned on his heel, very much out of sorts at Patty’s perverse ways, and as she saw the look on his face and the uncertainty on Kit’s countenance, Patty broke into a laugh.
“Where are you going, Patty?” said Farnsworth, coming out of the house.
“Over to Poland Spring House, if I can get anybody to drive me. These boys are both unwilling. You drive me, Little Billee?”
Farnsworth looked at her a moment, with the expression of one who can scarcely believe his own ears. Then, just as Kit began to exclaim in indignation Big Bill took his place beside her and started the car.
“What possessed your kind heart to give me this pleasure?” he said, and his voice was so gentle it took from the words all suggestion of sarcasm or satire.
“The others were so tiresome. I don’t think it’s such a favour to allow a man to drive a car for you. Do you?”
“It depends on the man and the one who grants the favour. To me this is a decided boon. Do you realise, little girl, I never get a word with you nowadays? You never allow it. You’re so wrapped up in Channing and Cameron, you’ve no eyes or ears for any one else.”
“Oh, Little Billee, what a taradiddle! But when people don’t believe what people say, people can’t expect people to——”
“Wait! So many people get me all mixed up! And I do believe you, always. If I doubted your word about that telephone, it was because I was misinformed. You see——”
“Yes, tell me how it was.”
Patty was thoroughly enjoying herself. She had Big Bill where she wanted him, apologising for his abominable disbelief in her veracity. “Tell me who told you stories about me.”
“Not stories, exactly. I wanted the long distance telephone that night, and when I went to the desk, the telephone clerk said you were using it, talking to a Mr. Van Reypen, and would I wait till you finished.”
“And of course you thought I called Phil, whereas he called me! All right, Billee Boy, you’re forguv.”
“And then, he called you again, last night. Is this a habit of his?”
“Oh, Billee, that’s just what I asked him. But how did you know he telephoned last night? Clerk again?”
“I was in the office, and as you weren’t home, and the New York call might have been from your father, I answered. It was Van Reypen, and as he wanted to know where you were, of course I told him. Patty, whatdidhe want?Whydoes he telephone you every night?”
“Well, let me see what he did want. He telephoned last night, I believe, to apologise for telephoning the night before!”
“What nonsense!”
“Yes, he did! Don’t you disbelieve me again!”
“Of course, I won’t. All right, then, what did he say the first night, that he had to apologise for?”
“Oh, fiddlestrings, Billee, it was nothing of any consequence. I may as well tell you, though, he just wanted to be invited up here.”
“Oh, hedid, did he?”
“Yes, hedid, did he! And I told him,——”
“Yes, Patty, what did you tell him?”
Patty turned her pretty head, and smiled full in Farnsworth’s face. Her blue eyes were sparkling, her golden curls were tossed by the wind, her red lips wore a roguish expression, as she said, “I just told him I didn’t want him.”
“Patty! Did you really?”
“I sure did, Little Billee, but it wasn’t quite true.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you see, really, Ididwant him,—a little oh, only averylittle,—but I knewyoudidn’t and so I told himIdidn’t.”
“Patty! what a torment you are!”
Patty’s eyes opened wide. “Well, I like that! A torment! Because I headed him off for the simple reason that you don’t want him! If that torments you, I’ll telephone him tonight to come on!”
“There, there, Blue Eyes, take it easy.Idon’t want him, andyoudon’t want him, andwewon’t have him! Now, let it go at that.”
Big Bill smiled down happily at the flower-face that at first looked up at him a little angrily, and then smiled back.
“And now, Peaches, the Van Reypen incident is closed. Next, will you kindly tell me why you went in so strong for the Kent lady’s concert?”
“Two reasons, Billee,” said Patty, calmly. “First, and I hope most, because I was sorry for her, and wanted to help her out in her trouble. And second,——”
“Well?”
“Oh, because I’m a silly, vain thing, and I wanted to sing in public, and have people think I was Madame Thingamajig, and I like to have my voice praised,—and I’m just a little idiot!”
“You certainly are.”
“Why, Wil-yum Farns-worth! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Not half so ashamed as you ought to be.”
“It isn’t a crime to be vain of your accomplishments, and I owned up I was silly. Do you hate silly people?”
“Sometimes, not always. But look here, Patty, seriously, you don’t want to be intimate with Maude Kent. She may be a nice girl, all right, but she has been an actress, and that is not the sort of people for you to associate with.”
“I guess you don’t know her very well, Bill; she is a noble self-sacrificing spirit, and she devotes her life to earning a living for herself and her mother and sister. I never knew a more devoted daughter and sister, than she is, and I adore her.”
Farnsworth sighed. “I feared you’d fly off like that, Patty. You’re so susceptible and impressionistic. But you must know that she is not the sort of girl you’ve been accustomed to know.”
“So much the worse for the sort of girl I know, then. Idle, unoccupied creatures, thinking of nothing but the fleeting pleasures of the hour! Maude Kent is worth a dozen of them, when it comes to nobility of purpose and energy of attainment. What do you know about her, Bill, thatisn’tadmirable?”
“Only that, Patty. That she has been on the vaudeville stage. I met her personally only two or three times, and I took little interest in her. But I hate to see you grow fond of her. Are you going to see her today?”
“I am. But you need not see her. You can wait for me in the hotel parlour. I’m sorry I brought you.”
“No, you’re not, you’re glad. And I’ll not wait in any parlour. I’m going with you all the way.”
As a matter of fact, Patty felt relieved, for she had no idea of what Maude wanted, and she feared it might be to sing again. This she had no intention of doing. Once was quite enough.
When they reached the hotel, they sent up their names, and Miss Kent came down. She received them in a small reception room, where they could be alone.
“You remember Mr. Farnsworth?” said Patty, after she had greeted Maude.
“Yes, indeed, very well. I’m so glad to see you again.”
Surely no one could criticise the gentle manner and soft voice, and Bill Farnsworth looked at her more kindly than he had intended to.
“And now, what’s it all about?” asked Patty, when they were seated. “For, Maude, I must not stay but a few minutes. It’s the night of the announcement party, and I’ve a lot to do for the affair.”
“Very well, I’ll tell you in a few words. Mr. Stengel, the manager, heard you sing here last night, and he wants an interview with you, with an idea of your going on the stage in light opera.”
“What!” and Patty looked amazed, while Farnsworth bit his lips to restrain what he wanted to say.
“Yes; he says you have a delightful voice, but more than that, you have charm and a decided ability to make good in the parts for which he should cast you.”
“Why, Maude, you must be crazy, to think for a minute that I’d consider such a proposition! I wouldn’t dream of it, and I couldn’t do it, anyway.”
“Yes, you could. And I knew you’d feel this way, at first, but after you think it over——”
“Miss Kent,” and Farnsworth’s tones were cold and incisive, “I know Miss Fairfield and her people quite well enough to speak with authority in this matter, and I assure you it is worse than useless for you to suggest such a thing.”
“I knew itwouldstrike you so at first, Mr. Farnsworth, and perhaps Patty’s parents also. But I feel sure that if it were properly put before them——”
“Miss Kent,” and Farnsworth rose, “there is no way of properly putting it before them. They would not even listen. And now I must ask you to excuse us. Come, Patty.”
“But, Bill,——”
“Come Patty, at once.”
“Must you obey him?” asked Miss Kent.
“She must,” said Farnsworth, sternly. “Come, Patty.”
“I must,” said Patty, and with a strange look in her eyes, she rose. “I’ll see you again about this, Maude,” she said.
“She’ll never see you again, about this, or anything else,” Farnsworth declared, and his face was set and his voice hard. “Good day, Miss Kent.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Farnsworth.Au revoir, Patty.”
The two started home in silence. Patty’s mind was full of conflicting emotions. The idea of going on the stage was so ridiculously unthinkable as to be of no importance, but the fact that she had been asked to do so filled her with a strange pride and satisfaction.
It was after a long time that Farnsworth said, gently, “Patty, you’re somanykinds of a fool.”
“Yes, sir,” and Patty sighed, partly from relief that he wasn’t going to scold and partly because she agreed with him.
“Now you see why I didn’t want you to have anything to do with that Kent woman.”
“Well, I don’t see as she has done me any harm.”
“You don’t? Why, she has put that fool idea into your head. And you’ll let it simmer and stew there until you begin to think that maybe itwouldbe nice to go on the stage.”
“Oh, Billee, I wouldn’t do any such a thing!”
“No, notnow, but after you mull over it, and especially if she ever gets hold of you again, which pray heaven, she never will.”
“Goodness me! Little Billee, how would I look on the stage? Why, I’d be lost among all the big girls they have nowadays.”
“You’dlookall right, that’s the worst of it. Now, see here, Patty, make me a solemn promise, will you? Not that you won’t go on the stage, but that if you everthinkof doing so, you’ll tell me first. Will you promise me that?”
And Patty promised.