CHAPTER XVII
A DINNER AND A DANCE
When Patty and Philip reached home, a little later than the others, Roger was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Roger?” asked Patty, as she jumped out of the car, for she wanted to make peace with him at once.
“He’s gone over to ‘Red Chimneys,’” said Elise, laughing. “He’s taken a terrible fancy to that Galbraith girl.”
“I told you we needn’t mind about Roger,” said Patty to Philip. “I’m glad he does like Mona, though I confess I was a little surprised at first.”
Very soon Roger came back to “The Pebbles,” bringing Mona with him.
“Hello, people!” the girl called out, as she neared the veranda. “You kept terribly sly about your birthday, didn’t you, Patty? But Mr. Farrington told me last night, and father telegraphed to New York for a present for me to give you, and it’s just arrived by special messenger. How do you like it?” and Mona tossed a small box into Patty’s lap.
The others crowded round to see, and Patty opened the box, to find a beautiful jewel pendant hung on a slender thread of a platinum neck-chain. The pendant was a fair-sized sapphire, surrounded by tiny diamonds, and was of fine design and workmanship.
“Mona! How lovely!” cried Patty. “But I can’t accept such a valuable present from you.”
“Nonsense! It’s a mere trinket. I’m delighted to give it to you, and father was delighted to get it for me, so you’ll simply have to take it. I was only afraid you wouldn’t think it pretty!”
“Pretty? Why, it’s perfectly beautiful!” and Patty clasped the chain around her neck at once. She was a little uncertain how to take the gift, but she could not so hurt Mona’s feelings as to refuse it, and, if she accepted it, she might as well do it gracefully. She cast an enquiring glance at Nan, who, as usual, came to her aid.
“It’s a lovely present, Patty; and Mona is most kind and generous to give it to you. I’m sure we all appreciate it.”
Thus tacitly advised, Patty thanked Mona prettily, and then Nan declared it was time to think about dressing for dinner.
“You’re coming, Mona, aren’t you?” said Patty, for she knew Nan had invited her.
“Oh, yes, indeed; I’ll be the first one here and the last one to leave. Trust me for that!” and, with a merry laugh, Mona ran away across the two lawns to her own house.
“She’s all right!” said Roger, looking after her.
“Yes, she is,” said Patty, generously; and, indeed, Mona had risen in her estimation since Roger showed such approval of her.
And then the group separated, to meet again at the birthday dinner.
The three girls gathered in Patty’s room for a short chat first.
“What are you going to wear, Patty?” asked Elise.
“Oh, I have a new blue affair that’s perfectly dear. What’s yours, Christine?”
“White,” said Christine, simply. “I can’t wear many colours.”
“You don’t need to, you angel person,” said Patty, kissing her. “You’ll look heavenly in white. I’ve never seen you in evening dress. It is evening dress, isn’t it, Christine?”
“Yes; that is, it’s a round neck, but it’s very simple.”
“You’re simple yourself,” said Patty; “simply sweet! Isn’t she, Elise?”
It was Patty’s delight to make Elise admire Christine, and of course it wasn’t possible, when thus appealed to, for Elise to do anything but acquiesce in Patty’s opinion.
“And now, honey, what’s your gorgeous creation that’s to dazzle the eyes of the country people down here?” said Patty.
“Mine is green,” returned Elise; “and it’s a good enough frock, but I know it won’t be in it with yours, Patsy.”
“Nonsense! It’s probably far handsomer. Aren’t we all getting grown-up, to have dinner parties and low-neck gowns! Though mine isn’t exactly low neck, it’s just cut out sort of round.”
“Yes, a Dutch neck,” said Elise; “that’s what mine is.”
“But still it does seem grown-up,” went on Patty, musingly, “to have a birthday dinner and dance, instead of just an ordinary party.”
“Well, you are grown-up when you’re nineteen,” said Christine. “I’m twenty, and I think I’m grown-up.”
“That’s because you’re Southern,” said Patty. “We stay little girls a lot longer up here. And I’m glad of it, for I hate being grown-up. I wish I could wear pig-tails and hair ribbons! Anyway, I’m not going to act grown-up to-night; my party’s going to be a frolic, not a formal affair.”
“How many are coming?” asked Christine, who had not entirely overcome her shyness with strangers.
“Well, there’s about ten of our own crowd, and Nan has invited about ten more of the Spring Beach people. The two Sayre girls are awfully jolly; you’ll like them. And Jack Pennington is a dear boy, and so is Guy Martin. And then there’s Dorothy Dennison and her brother,—and Phyllis Norton,—oh, quite a bunch of them! And, Christine, don’t you go cutting up any of your shrinking violet tricks! I want you to be the belle of the ball!”
Elise looked up in surprise, but, seeing the determined expression on Patty’s face, she said nothing; and, if she had her own opinion as to who should be belle of the ball, she expressed it only to herself.
An hour later, the three girls went downstairs together. Patty in the middle, with her sky-blue chiffon frock, was looking her best. The pale blue suited her golden hair and pink cheeks, and the semi-low-cut neck was exceedingly becoming to her rounded throat and chin.
Elise’s green dress was far more elaborate, but her brilliant beauty seemed to call for an ornate setting.
Christine’s gown was perhaps the prettiest of all. Of white crêpe-de-chine, it hung in soft, straight folds, and around the throat was a delicate pearl embroidery. A girdle of pearl-work, with long ends, gave a finishing touch; and on Christine’s willowy figure, and with her Madonna face, the gown was appropriate and effective.
The boys, who were waiting in the hall, exclaimed in vociferous compliment as the girls came slowly down the staircase, and declared that such a trio of beauty had never before been seen.
“Nonsense!” cried Patty. “Don’t you talk to us as if we were grown-up young ladies! We’re only a little bit more than schoolgirls. Just because I’m nineteen, I’m not going to be treated with dignity! Roger, will you dance the first dance with me?”
Roger looked embarrassed, and, though he tried to speak, he hesitated and stammered.
“Why, Patty,—that is,—I’d be only too delighted,—but——”
“But you’ve already asked Mona!” cried Patty, with a teasing laugh. “I knew it perfectly well, Roger, and I only asked you to tease you. And I’ll be perfectly content with the second, so save that for me.”
“Indeed I will, and thank you kindly,” said Roger, and then Philip Van Reypen and Kenneth both said at once, “May I have the first dance, Patty?”
“No, indeed,” she returned, laughing gaily at them; “I’m not going to give my first dance to any of my house party. There are several Spring Beach boys coming, and I shall dance with whichever one of those asks me first.”
Patty’s own particular decided wag of the head accompanied this speech, and the men knew it would be of no use to coax her.
And then the other guests began to arrive, and the great entrance hall of “The Pebbles” was a scene of merry laughter and chatter, and greetings and introductions on all sides.
Under Nan’s orders, the whole place had been beautifully decorated. In the hall and rooms were garlands and banks of flowers, and tall palms shading alcoved nooks. The verandas were hung with Japanese lanterns, and a few of these were scattered among the shrubbery, to light the way for any who might be inclined to stroll on the lawn.
At eight o’clock, Patty, taking her father’s arm, led the way to the dining-room. Nan and Mr. Hepworth followed, and then the others in merry procession.
Dinner was served at small tables, as the number of guests was too large to be accommodated at one. Each table was beautifully decorated with flowers and candles, and pretty place-cards as souvenirs of the occasion.
Of course there was a birthday cake, and when at last Patty cut it, and each guest had partaken of it, the dinner was over, and the dance about to begin.
Several musicians were on the broad landing, halfway upstairs, and played just the right kind of music for young people’s merry dancing.
Jack Pennington asked Patty for the first dance, and, a little to his surprise, she graciously granted it. He had hardly hoped for this honour, but he didn’t know that Patty had planned it thus in order to avoid selecting one of her house party in preference to the others. So she danced with Jack Pennington, and afterward, as they sauntered out on the veranda, all the other men clustered around Patty, begging for dances, until her programme was full, and many of the dances had been divided. Of course, as Patty was hostess, she would naturally receive much attention, but her own merry and charming personality made her easily the most popular girl present, though the others were almost equally so. Handsome Elise was a general favourite, and Christine’s delicate Southern beauty attracted many admirers.
Mona was resplendent in bright pink silk, elaborately ornamented. She wore too many jewels, as always, but her whole-souled, good-tempered gaiety, and her hearty enjoyment of the occasion, made her attractive to many.
After a dance with Philip, Patty and he wandered out on to the veranda, and sat for a moment on the railing.
“Beautiful show, Patty,” he said; “one of the prettiest parties I ever saw. These lanterns are gorgeous. Why don’t you keep them here all the time? Sets off the house wonderfully. Come down on the lawn for a little stroll.”
“I’m afraid you’ll kidnap me,” said Patty, mischievously.
“No; honest I won’t. Though I’d like to. Say, let’s get Camilla out, and go for a little spin. Will you?”
“Indeed, I won’t! We got out of that other scrape pretty well. But I’m not going to take any chances again! Beside, the next dance is Kenneth’s. I’d better get back where he can find me.”
“Oh, he’ll hunt you up, all right! Hello! Who’s this?”
Some one came running toward them through the semi-darkness. It was Mona, out of breath and laughing. “Hide me!” she cried. “Hide me! I’m running away from Roger!”
“How extraordinary,” laughed Patty. “Youarea coquettish young thing, aren’t you, Mona?”
“Hide me, Patty,” urged Mona. “That’s a dear. Let me get behind you two.”
Mona slipped around behind Patty and Philip, but, anxious to help her, Patty said: “Back into the arbour, Mona; we’ll keep in front of you. Hurry! here comes Roger.”
“Have you seen Miss Galbraith?” asked Roger, coming up to them, entirely unsuspicious of Mona’s whereabouts.
“We’ve just strolled out here,” said Patty, innocently. “Why don’t you look on the veranda, Roger? Does she know you’re looking for her?”
“Of course she does! On the veranda, you say?” and Roger was off like a shot.
Patty and Philip, stifling with laughter, turned back to Mona, who stood with her finger on her lips, cautioning silence.
And as, in obedience to her gesture, they were still, they all distinctly heard a voice speaking on the other side of the arbour. The speaker could not be seen, and the hearers had no intention of eavesdropping, but it was Kenneth’s voice, and his tone was tense and angry.
“I tell you, Elise,” he said, “I don’t believe Patty ever said that!”
“She did,” said Elise, with the accent of one who reiterates.
It was Philip Van Reypen’s impulse to walk round the arbour at once, and make their presence known, but Patty silently put her hand on his arm and led him toward the house.
Mona followed, also silently, for she realised at once that Patty was disturbed at what she had heard. The words in themselves might mean a mere trifle or nothing at all; but the seriousness of Kenneth’s voice, and the petulant insistence of Elise, seemed to forebode trouble.
“What does it mean?” whispered Philip, as they neared the house.
“Nothing,—nothing at all,” said Patty, but she spoke in a low voice and her lip was quivering. She had divined intuitively that Elise had told Kenneth something to make him angry, and she felt sure that Elise had done it purposely, and that she had misrepresented the facts.
“Shall I take you into the house?” asked Philip, gently. “I think you said your next dance is Harper’s.”
“Not just yet,” said Patty, who was so hurt by Elise’s treachery that she could not fully control her quivering lip and the tears that came to her eyes.
Mona had disappeared, and so Philip said, “Let us stroll once more round the drive, and then it will be all right.”
His voice was so pleasant, and his manner so quiet, that it acted as a balm to Patty’s shattered nerves, and she looked up gratefully, and smiled at him through two teardrops that trembled in her blue eyes.
“You’re awfully good,” she said, “and I’m not going to be silly. Never mind it. But aren’t you engaged for this dance?”
“Yes, to Miss Galbraith,” he replied, smiling; “but I feel quite sure she has forgotten it in her game of hide-and-seek with young Farrington.”
“But you must go and find her, all the same,” said Patty, suddenly mindful of etiquette. “Come! let us hurry to the house. I’m all right now.”
They quickened their pace, and Philip talked with a cheery banter, so that, when they reached the veranda, Patty was her own smiling, merry self, and she felt profoundly grateful to Philip because he had not again referred to the bit of conversation they had overheard.
CHAPTER XVIII
MONA INTERFERES
Patty found Kenneth in the doorway, awaiting her.
“Here you are,” he called out, cheerily enough, and Patty hoped it was only her imagination that made her think his manner a little constrained. He was gentle and kindly as ever, but he was not in merry mood, and Patty felt this at once.
They began to dance. Their steps suited perfectly, and, though Patty herself was such an accomplished dancer that she could adapt her step to any one, yet she always specially enjoyed a turn with Kenneth. But now he seemed different, and, though he danced as perfectly as usual, and so did Patty, there was a certain constraint in his manner and he spoke only occasionally, and then the merest commonplaces. Patty realised fully that there was something wrong, but she also knew she could do nothing then and there to set it right. She couldn’t ask Kenneth what Elise had said to him, and she couldn’t think of any other way to open the subject.
So, after a few turns round the room, she was really glad that another partner claimed her, for this was one of the dances that she had divided.
Kenneth left her, with a simple “Thank you, Patty,” and, turning on his heel, went out of the dancing-room. In the hall he met Mona, who said, abruptly and impulsively: “Oh, Mr. Harper! I haven’t any partner for this dance. Come for a walk round the lawn, won’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you rather dance?” asked Kenneth, who was in no mood for conversation.
“No,” said Mona, smiling wilfully, “I want to walk out under the lanterns on the lawn. They’re so lovely and Japanesy.”
Mona had a wheedling way with her, and Kenneth smiled a little as he escorted her down the steps and along a side path through the grounds.
“You think I’m a queer girl, don’t you, Mr. Harper?” she began, as they strolled along under the trees.
“If I did, you couldn’t expect me to tell you so, Miss Galbraith,” he parried.
“Well, even if you haven’t thought so before, you will now;” and Mona gave a determined shake of her head. “But I don’t care if you do. I want you to answer me a question. What did Miss Farrington tell you that Patty Fairfield had said, and you returned that you didn’t believe Patty said it?”
Now Kenneth was an exceedingly well-mannered young man, but he was certainly taken aback by this question flung at him so suddenly by a comparative stranger, and he was tempted to reply so plainly that she must think him rude. But, after a moment’s hesitation, he modified his intentions, and only said:
“I’m sorry to have you thinkmequeer, Miss Galbraith, but, even at that risk, I must decline to answer such a very personal question. And, too——”
“And, too,” repeated Mona, stopping and turning to look squarely at him, “you were going to say, that I’m an eavesdropper, and, except for your inability to be so rude, you would tell me so.”
Kenneth was amazed at the girl’s intuition, but he said honestly, “You are very nearly right, Miss Galbraith.”
“Very nearly right? I’m exactly right, and you know it! Now let me tell you, Mr. Kenneth Harper, I don’t care one snip-jack for your opinion of me, and you may think just exactly what you choose! But I have another’s interest at heart, and I’m perfectly justified in asking you the question I did ask. Please tell me.”
At the last words Mona’s voice sank to a pleading whisper, and there was such heartfelt urgency in her voice that he was moved against his will.
“Why do you want to know, Miss Galbraith?” he asked, more gently.
They were walking on again now, and Mona looked straight before her as she replied: “I cannot tell you that, but I beg of you to tell me what I ask. Was it anything about me?” Mona had no idea that it was, and this was a purely strategic enquiry.
“No, it was not about you,—and now I hope you’re satisfied.”
“No, I’m not satisfied. Was it about you?”
“Yes, it was.”
“And was it something mean Patty had said about you?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Mr. Harper, you are not a true friend. You know Patty Fairfield couldn’t say a mean thing to save her life! And especially about you, one of her best friends!”
“Oh, I don’t think I’m that,” said Kenneth, in a cynical tone.
“You are, too! Now, are you sure Patty said this thing?”
“Elise said so,” muttered Kenneth, who had forgotten he was talking to a stranger, because Mona had assumed such compelling intimacy.
“And are you sure it was mean?”
“Well, rather! You can judge for yourself!” Kenneth’s indignation got the better of his self-restraint, and he told Mona frankly the truth.
“Once, when Patty went away, I gave her a little locket as a parting gift, and she thanked me and said she liked it. Now, Elise tells me that Patty told her she didn’t care a snap about that locket, and she only wore it once or twice.”
“And you told Miss Farrington that you didn’t believe Patty said that?”
“Yes; but Elise insisted that she did say it, and somehow I believe Elise. Her words had the ring of truth.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harper, for your confidence;” Mona spoke very earnestly. “Believe me, you have done no harm in telling me this. You think it is none of my business, but it is. You think me a queer girl, and I am. But let me tell you one thing, Patty Fairfield is a true, sweet, loyal nature, sound to the core; and Elise Farrington is not above a trifling deception, now and then, if she wishes to gain a point. Please take me back to the house.”
They walked the short distance in silence, Kenneth secretly thinking that Miss Galbraith was certainly queer; and at the same time wondering if Elise could have made up that story. But, as he had said, there was something in the tone of Elise’s voice, as she repeated Patty’s words, that convinced him they were true. With a sigh, he went up the steps by Miss Galbraith’s side, and then they separated, to join other partners.
The dance went on, with its merriment and gaiety, and of course no one would have known that either Patty or Kenneth had a troubled mind. Elise was in specially gay spirits, and Mona seemed to be enjoying herself thoroughly.
“It was a lovely party!” declared Elise, after it was over and the last guest gone. “It was just perfect. There wasn’t a flaw! Isn’t that so, Patty?”
“I had a good time,” said Patty, a little wearily; “but I’m awfully tired, and I’m going right straight to bed. Good-night, everybody; good-night, Roger,—good-night, Ken.”
She nodded pleasantly to the young men, and started up the stairs at once. Elise and Christine followed, and, when they reached the upper hall, Patty bade them a brief but pleasant good-night and went straight to her own room.
“I don’t know what to do,” she thought to herself, as she took off her pretty blue frock. “I can’t let the matter go without saying a word,—and I can’t say anything, because that would put Elise in the wrong, and she is my guest! I’ll just have to live it down, I suppose.”
But it wasn’t so easily lived down. The next morning, though Patty tried to be especially cordial to Kenneth, he avoided her whenever possible. Not noticeably to the others,—but Patty realised that he did not seek her company, or sit by her on the veranda, or ask to ride with her in the motor.
The morning dragged along, nobody seeming to have energy enough to propose any sort of fun.
“Patty’s birthday seems to have been too much for this crowd,” said Nan, laughingly. “I propose that you men all go for a swim, and let these exhausted girlies take a little nap. I think they danced too late, and I sha’n’t allow such dissipation again.”
“I feel fine, Mrs. Fairfield,” declared Elise. “I never get tired dancing. Do you, Christine?”
“No, I didn’t get tired,—I thought it was a lovely party. I very seldom have an opportunity to be in such gaieties.”
“But you’re tired, aren’t you, Patty?” asked Elise, as Patty sat on the veranda rail, leaning listlessly against a pillar. Before she had time to answer, however, a servant came walking along the drive, whom Patty recognised as one of the “Red Chimneys” footmen. He brought a note, which he handed to Patty, and then, with a deferential bow, he went away.
Patty asked permission to read the note, glanced it over, and then tossed it to Roger, saying, “We seem to be especially favoured!”
The note was an invitation for Patty and Roger to come over to “Red Chimneys” at once, but no one else was asked.
“Come on, Patty,” said Roger; “the others will excuse us for a little while, I’m sure.”
So Patty and Roger walked away by the shortcut across the two lawns, and found Mona in the doorway awaiting them.
She smiled as she put her arm around Patty, and said, “You’re the one I want,—I asked Mr. Farrington for a blind.”
“Well, I like that!” exclaimed Roger, looking incredulous.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” went on Mona, smiling at him; “the truth is, I want to see Patty privately on averyimportant matter. I didn’t want to send for her alone, because it looked so conspicuous. But our private conference won’t last more than ten minutes, and, if you can entertain yourself that long, I’ll take care of you afterward. Here’s the morning paper, and do try to be patient.”
Mona didn’t wait for Roger’s response, but, with her arm still around Patty, led her to the library, took her in, and closed the door.
“Patty,” she began, “I’m a queer girl, and you know it,—and I know it. You don’t like me very much, but I like you, and I’d do anything for you.”
“Good gracious, Mona! Whatareyou getting at?”
“I’ll tell you exactly what I’m getting at,—and I’ll tell you right now. I may be queer, but I can see a hole through a millstone when anybody I love is concerned. Now, you know when you and Mr. Van Reypen and I were in the little arbour last night, we overheard somebody talking on the other side of the thick vines.”
“Really, Mona, I must beg of you not to go too far, or I may lose my temper!”
“Oh, no, you won’t, Patty Fairfield! You just sit still and listen. Now you know, as well as I do, we weren’t eavesdropping,—any of us,—but we all heard what Mr. Harper said to Miss Farrington.”
“Well, what of it?” Patty’s face was pale and her lips were set hard together. She was thoroughly angry at what she considered Mona’s unwarrantable interference, and she felt she could stand but little more.
“Just this of it! I asked Mr. Harper what it was that Miss Farrington told him about you.”
“Mona Galbraith! You didn’t!”
“I certainly did; and, what’s more, he told me.”
“Kenneth told you?” said Patty, incredulously.
“Yes, he did. And this was it. But perhaps you don’t want to know what it was.”
“Of course I do! Mona, tell me, quick!”
“Well, he said that Miss Farrington told him that you didn’t care a snap about the locket he gave you and that you only wore it once or twice.”
“What?” exclaimed Patty. “I don’t quite understand. The locket Kenneth gave me?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! I understand now! That locket! Why, the idea! Say, Mona, you’re a trump to find this all out!”
“You didn’t think so at first.”
“No, I didn’t; and I’m sorry! You have played the part of a real friend, and you’ve done more for me than you realise! But, oh, Mona! howcouldElise do a thing like that?”
“She’s that sort, that’s all. You know as well as I do she likes Kenneth Harper an awful lot, and she knows that he likes you better than he does her, so she’s trying to set him against you.”
“Set Kenneth against me? She couldn’t do it! Dear old Ken, we’re too good friends for that! But, Mona, how did you find out all this? You scarcely know these people.”
“Oh, I sized up that Farrington girl the minute I saw her! She isn’t a bit like her brother. He’s an all-round, good sort. And the poor chappie is still out there reading the paper! He must be devouring the advertisements by this time. Now, Patty, forgetmypart in this affair, skip over home, make it up with Mr. Harper, and do whatever you think best with that Farrington girl.”
“I can’t do anything with her, because she’s my guest; but I can make it up with Ken in just about two minutes! And, as for you, Mona, I don’t know how to thank you!”
“Oh, cut it out! I’d do heaps more than that for you, if I only had the chance! Fly now, for you must know how impatient I am to go and talk to my new beau, Mr. Farrington.”
So, after an embrace that was hearty enough at least to indicate her gratitude, Patty flew.
CHAPTER XIX
PHILIP’S PICNIC
On Patty’s return she found the veranda almost deserted. Christine and Mr. Hepworth, Elise and Mr. Van Reypen had gone down to the beach. Mr. Fairfield had gone to the city, and Nan was chatting with Kenneth.
“Ducky stepmother of mine,” said Patty, as she wound her arm around Nan’s neck, “if you don’t want to monopolise this young man, I’d like to borrow him for a short time.”
“You may take him, Patty,” said Nan, with a resigned sigh. “But I suppose you know you will leave me alone in a cold world! Your father has gone to New York.”
“But, Nan, you ought to have some time to yourself. Solitude is an awfully good thing once in a while. Don’t you sort of feel the need of it now?”
“Yes, I think I do,” said Nan, laughing; “so you may have Kenneth for a while. What are you going to do with him?”
“Take him for a spin,” said Patty, “Come on, Ken.”
Kenneth hesitated for a moment. “Don’t you want to go spinning with Patty, Mrs. Fairfield?” he said.
“No, thank you; I have some household matters to attend to. One can’t have a house party without occasionally having an eye on domestic affairs. So, good-bye. Be home in time for luncheon.”
Soon Patty and Kenneth were flying along the beach road, and the Swift Camilla was living up to her highest reputation. Patty was driving, and Kenneth was polite and amiable, but not merry.
After a time, Patty slowed down speed a little.
“Kenneth,” she said, abruptly, “I’ve something to say to you, and I’m going to say it right straight out. You know what Elise told you that I said about you, or rather about the locket you gave me?”
“Yes, I know; and, by the way, it seems that just about everybody else knows, too.”
“Never mind that,” said Patty, knowing that the boy was annoyed because Mona had interfered in the matter. “The point is, Ken, that what Elise told you I said wasn’t entirely true.”
“Not entirely true? How much of it was true? Since you seem to know all about her conversation with me, I suppose she told you.”
“No, she didn’t. Now listen, Ken; I hate, awfully, to talk against Elise, but I’ve simply got to stand up for my own rights in this thing. I did tell her that I only wore that locket once or twice, but Ididn’ttell her that I didn’t care anything about it. For I do. I care a great deal about it.”
“Then, why don’t you wear it oftener?”
“I’ll be perfectly frank with you, Ken. It’s just because that locket with your picture in it was too,—well, too personal a sort of present for you to give me, or for me to wear.”
“You took it!”
“Yes; after I’d asked father, and he told me I might, but you know I went away with Elise then, to Paris, and every time she saw it she pretended that it meant a great deal more than it did. Of course, it was only a token of our boy and girl friendship, but she chose to pretend it meant romance and sentiment and all those things.”
“But since it meant and still means our boy and girl friendship, I think you might wear it sometimes.”
“I see I’ll have to tell you the whole story,” said Patty, with a little sigh. “Well, last Christmas Elise bought a seal ring for Roger, and then, at the last minute, she decided she’d like to give it to you, and she asked my advice about it. I told her it was too personal a present for a girl to give a young man, and I didn’t think she ought to do it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to give you a nice present, but I didn’t think it looked right for her to give you that kind of a one. I told her to get you books, or something like that.”
“What’s all this got to do with the locket?”
“Why, Elise said that I needn’t talk about personal presents, after I had accepted from you a locket with your picture in it. And so I told her that that was very different, as we were old friends, and, anyhow, I had only worn it once or twice. But I didn’t say I didn’t care anything for it.”
Kenneth’s face cleared, and he turned toward Patty with an honest, beaming smile.
“It’s all right, Patty; I see through it now. Elise did try to make me think you had said something mean, but you didn’t, and I felt sure you hadn’t.”
“You didn’t feelquitesure, Ken.”
“No, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t, at first, but that was because I was so hurt at what I was told you had said. But it’s all right now, and I know you’ll forgive me, like the trump you are. I’d grasp your strong right hand, if I weren’t afraid that would make you steer us both into the ocean.”
“I’ll consider it grasped. And I’m downright glad that we’re good chums again, for I hate to have squabbles with anybody, and I almost never do.”
“I know it, Patty; you’re a sweet-tempered little thing, and I was a mean-spirited coward to believe for a minute that you’d say anything unkind about any of your friends.”
“Especially you, Ken;” and Patty flashed him a glance of comradeship. “But it was Mona who fixed this thing up for us.”
“Isn’t she a queer girl? She’s so blunt, and yet very few girls could have done what she did for you, Patty.”
“I know it; and I do appreciate it, and I shall always love her for it. But, Ken, what can I say to Elise?”
“Don’t say anything, Patty; that’s the best way.”
“And, if she ever tries again to lower me in your esteem, what then?”
“She won’t succeed! I’ve had my little lesson.”
“Good for you, Ken! If you ever have reason to think that I said anything mean about you, you come and ask me about it,—because Mona may not be around next time.”
“I will, indeed, Patty.”
And then, peace being thoroughly established, the trouble passed out of their minds forever, and the old chummy relations were resumed. They had a beautiful drive along the coast, and, when they got back to “The Pebbles,” it was nearly lunch time. They found the whole crowd assembled on the veranda, and Mr. Van Reypen seemed to be spokesman at a very important conference.
“It’ll be the most fun of anything you ever saw!” he declared. “A real old-fashioned picnic! None of your modern country-club affairs. But a tablecloth spread on the ground, and sandwiches and devilled eggs, and a campfire to boil the coffee, and lemonade, and hopper-grasses hopping in the pie, and everything just as it should be! Oh, gorgeous!”
“Why sit on the ground?” asked Christine. “Aren’t there any benches in the picnic place?”
“We’re not going to a picnic grounds, little girl,” Mr. Van Reypen informed her; “we’re going to a real, live woods; to the darksome depths of a dingley dell.”
“Tell us all about it!” cried Patty, as she and Kenneth joined the group.
“Entirely my own invention!” cried Philip; “it’s a picnic I’m arranging for to-morrow, and I’d be honoured if you two would deign to attend.”
“We will that!” exclaimed Patty; “but I heard something about grasshoppers. Do we have to have those?”
“No; if you prefer, you can have ants or spiders. But you can’t have a real picnic without some such attachments. Now listen to what I’ve planned! It’s just too lovely! I’ve engaged three runabouts from the amiable garage man over forninst. Camilla will make four, and, if Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield will lead the parade in their own car, we’ll have an imposing procession.”
“Not I!” cried Nan, gaily. “If you young people want to go on this entomological picnic, I’ve not the slightest objection. And I’ll see that you have enough sandwiches and devilled eggs to feed both yourselves and the grasshoppers, but I’ll have to ask you to excuse my husband and myself from attending.”
“The only regrets I’ve had so far,” said Philip; “anybody else who don’t want to go?”
But the others all declared that the plan was perfect, and they wouldn’t miss the picnic for anything.
“Now, I’ll run the whole show,” went on Philip. “You understand it’s my picnic entirely, and I’m host, and master of ceremonies, and chief engineer. I shall provide the entire luncheon, and, with due respects and thanks to Mrs. Fairfield for her offer of hard-boiled eggs, I must decline it, as I shall get all those things from the pleasant-faced and generously proportioned lady who is queen of the kitchen over at my hotel.”
They all professed themselves satisfied to let Mr. Van Reypen take full charge of his own picnic, and all expressed perfect willingness to be merely passengers. Mona was present, as usual, and was of course included in the invitation. She was enthusiastic in her delight at the prospect, and, quite forgetting to go home to luncheon, she accepted Nan’s invitation to lunch at “The Pebbles.”
The next day proved an ideal one for Philip’s picnic. They were to start about ten o’clock, for he informed them the particular dingley dell he had in mind was a fairly long distance off.
So, promptly at ten o’clock, he came over to “The Pebbles” in a runabout, accompanied by a chauffeur. He was followed by two other runabouts, each in charge of a chauffeur.
The picnic party stood on the veranda, not quite sure what the arrangements were to be, but laughingly declaring they were ready to follow orders.
“First,” said Mr. Van Reypen, “I’ll load up this car;” and into the first runabout he assisted Miss Galbraith, and bade Roger Farrington get in beside her. Needless to say, these two were well satisfied, and went spinning off down the road.
Next, turning to Mr. Hepworth, he asked him if he could drive a car.
“An electric? Yes,” said Mr. Hepworth.
“Because, if you don’t want to drive it, this car will hold three, and you can take a chauffeur,” said Philip, who had provided for every emergency.
“No, I prefer to drive,” said Mr. Hepworth, quietly, and then Philip said: “All right; and I give you Miss Farley for a companion. Don’t quarrel on the way.”
And so, with Christine, Mr. Hepworth drove away, and Philip turned to the others.
“I hardly know how to divide up the rest of us,” he said, stroking his chin, thoughtfully, “but I’ll try it this way. Harper, will you take Miss Farrington in this very pretty-looking new runabout?”
It was an awkward situation, though Philip didn’t know it. Elise was delighted with the plan, and beamed all over her face as she took the seat indicated. Kenneth was not at all pleased, and it was really with difficulty that he refrained from showing it. But Patty gave him a pleading look, as if begging him to make the best of the situation, and so, with what was apparently hearty good-will, he took his seat beside Elise, saying, “All right, here goes for a fine ride!”
Kenneth was fond of driving a car, and, not owning one himself, he rarely had the opportunity; so Patty felt sure he would enjoy the trip quite irrespective of who might be beside him. And, as Patty realised, there was no other way to arrange the couples from Mr. Van Reypen’s viewpoint, for she knew from the beginning that he intended to ride with her.
“I declare, I’m a car short!” exclaimed Philip, as Kenneth and Elise drove away. “I should have ordered four cars, and I only engaged three! We’ll have to stay at home! Shall you mind?”
“No,” said Patty, mischievously, “I don’t mind. I’ll read aloud to you, if you like.”
“It seems too bad for me not to go when it’s my own picnic,” said Philip, musingly. “You don’t happen to know of any little motor car we could use, do you?”
“We might take Camilla,” suggested Patty, in a dubious tone.
“Just the thing! Say we do? How clever of you to think of that!” and, as Patty broke into peals of laughter at his foolishness, Philip flew down the steps and around to the garage, returning in a moment with Camilla, which Miller was impatiently holding in readiness.
“I’m going to drive,” Philip announced, calmly.
“All right, I don’t care; but, then, you must let me drive coming home. I declare, with a house party, I almost never get a chance to drive my own car!”
“Never mind! Your horrid old house party will soon be going, and then you can drive all you like.”
“It isn’t a horrid old house party! It’s a lovely, sweet, delicious house party, and I wish it would stay forever!”
“This part of it will, if you give him the slightest encouragement.”
“Oh, I don’t want part of it unless I have it all! I had no idea house parties were such fun. I think we’re having beautiful times, don’t you?”
“Yes; since you’ve made up with young Harper;” and Philip’s eyes twinkled.
“Why, what do you mean?” exclaimed Patty, blushing pink. “How did you know anything about it?”
“I didn’t, and I don’t, and I don’t want to! But when I see my little hostess going around with a sad and forlorn expression on her face, and one of her guests looking as if he’d lost his last friend, and then they both go for a motor ride and come back jubilantly chummy,—why, then,—I Sherlock it out that they’ve had a squabble and a make-up! Am I altogether wrong?”
“Not altogether,” said Patty, demurely.