CHAPTER XIIITHE THURSDAY CLUB
As Patty was temporarily out of an “occupation,” she went skating the next day with the Farringtons and Kenneth. Indeed, the four were so often together that they began to call themselves the Quartette.
After a jolly skate, which made their cheeks rosy, they all went back to Patty’s, as they usually did after skating.
“I think you might come to my house, sometimes,” said Elise.
“Oh, I have to go to Patty’s to look after the goldfish,” said Kenneth. “I thought Darby swam lame, the last time I saw him. Does he, Patty?”
“No, not now. But Juliet has a cold, and I’m afraid of rheumatism setting in.”
“No,” said Kenneth; “she’s too young for rheumatism. But she may have ‘housemaid’sknee.’ You must be very careful about draughts.”
The goldfish were a never-failing source of fun for the Quartette. The fish themselves were quiet, inoffensive little creatures, but the ready imagination of the young people invested them with all sorts of strange qualities, both physical and mental.
“Juliet’s still sulky about that thimble,” said Roger, as they all looked into the fishes’ globe. “I gave her Patty’s thimble yesterday to wear for a hat, and it didn’t suit her at all.”
“I should say not!” cried Patty. “She thought it was a helmet. You must take her for Joan of Arc.”
“She didn’t wear a helmet,” said Elise, laughing.
“Well, she wore armour. They belong together. Anyway, Juliet doesn’t know but that Joan of Arc wore a helmet.”
“Oh, is that what made her so sulky?” said Roger. “Nice disposition, I must say.”
“She’s nervous,” put in Kenneth, “and a little morbid, poor thing. Patty, I think a little iron in the water would do her good.”
“Send for a flatiron, Patty,” said Roger. “Iknow it would help her, if you set it carefully on top of her.”
“I won’t do it!” said Patty. “Poor Juliet is flat enough now. She doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive. Let’s go away and leave her to sleep. That will fatten her, maybe.”
“Lullaby, Julie, in the fish-bowl,” sang Roger.
“When the wind blows, the billows will roll,” continued Elise, fanning the water in the globe with a newspaper.
“When the bowl breaks, the fishes will fall,” contributed Patty, and Ken wound up by singing:
“And the Cat will eat Juliet, Darby, and all!”
“Oh, horrible!” cried Patty. “Indeed she won’t! My beautiful pets shall never meet that cruel fate.”
Leaving Juliet to her much needed nap, they all strolled into the library.
“Let’s be a club,” said Elise. “Just us four, you know.”
“All right,” said Patty, who loved clubs. “What sort of a club?”
“Musical,” said Elise. “We all sing.”
“Musical clubs are foolish,” said Roger. “Let’s be a dramatic club.”
“Dramatic clubs are too much work,” saidPatty; “and four isn’t enough for that, anyway. Let’s do good.”
“Oh, Patty,” groaned Kenneth, “you’re getting so eleemosynary there’s no fun in you!”
“Mercy, gracious!” cried Patty. “Whatwas that fearful word you said, Ken? No! don’t say it over again! I can’t stand all of it at once!”
“Well, we have to stand you!” grumbled Kenneth, “and you’rethatall the time, now. What foolishness are you going to fly at next, trying to earn a dishonest penny?”
“I’m thinking of going out as a cook,” said Patty, her eyes twinkling. “Cooking is the only thing I really know how to do. But I can do that.”
“You’ll be fine as cook,” said Roger. “May I come round Thursday afternoons and take you out?”
“I s’pose I’ll only have every other Thursday,” said Patty, demurely.
“And the other Thursday you won’t be there! But what about this club we’re organising?”
“Make it musical,” said Kenneth, “and then while one of us is playing or singing someclassical selection, the others can indulge in merry conversation.”
“You may as well make it the Patty Club,” said Elise, “as I suppose it will always meet here.”
Though not really jealous of her friend’s popularity, Elise always resented the fact that the young people would rather be at Patty’s than at her own home.
The reason was, that the Fairfield house, though handsomely appointed, was not so formally grand as the Farringtons’, and there was always an atmosphere of cordiality and hospitality at Patty’s, while at Elise’s it was oppressively formal and dignified.
“Oh, pshaw,” said Patty, ignoring Elise’s unkind intent; “I won’t have you always here. We’ll take turns, of course.”
“All right,” said Elise; “every other week at my house and every other week here. But don’t you think we ought to have more than four members?”
“No, I don’t,” declared Kenneth, promptly. “And we don’t want any musical nonsense, or any dramatic foolishness, either. Let’s just have fun; if it’s pleasant weather, we’ll go skating, or sleighing, or motoring, or whatever youlike; if it isn’t, we’ll stay indoors, or go to a matinée or concert, or something like that.”
“Lovely!” cried Elise. “But if we’re to go to matinées, we’ll have to meet Saturdays.”
“Or Wednesdays,” amended Patty. “Let’s meet Wednesdays. I ’most always have engagements on Saturdays.”
“All right; shall we call it the Wednesday Club, then?”
“No, Elise,” said Roger, gravely. “That’s too obvious; we will call it the Thursday Club, because we meet on Wednesday; see?”
“No, I don’t see,” said Elise, looking puzzled.
“Why,” explained Roger, “you see we’ll spend all day Thursday thinking over the good time we had on Wednesday!”
“But that isn’t the real reason,” said Patty, giggling. “The real reason we call it the Thursday Club is because it meets on Wednesday!”
“That’s it, Patsy!” said Ken, approvingly, for he and Patty had the same love for nonsense, though more practical Elise couldn’t always understand it.
“Well, then, the Thursday Club will meet here next Wednesday,” said Patty; “unless I am otherwise engaged.”
For she just happened to think, that on that day she might be again attempting to earn her fifteen dollars.
“What’s the Thursday Club? Mayn’t I belong?” said a pleasant voice, and Mr. Hepworth came in.
“Oh, how do you do?” cried Patty, jumping up, and offering both hands. “I’m so glad to see you. Do sit down.”
“I came round,” said Mr. Hepworth, after greeting the others, “in hopes I could corral a cup of tea. I thought you ran a five-o’clock tea-room.”
“We do,” said Patty, ringing a bell nearby. “That is, we always have tea when Nan is home; and we can just as well have it when she isn’t.”
“I suppose you young people don’t care for tea,” went on Mr. Hepworth, looking a little enviously at the merry group, who, indeed, didn’t care whether they had tea or not.
“Oh, yes, we do,” said Patty. “We love it. But we,—we just forgot it. We were so engrossed in organising a club.”
But the others did not follow up this conversational beginning, and even before the tea was brought, Elise said she must go.
“Nonsense!” said Patty; “don’t go yet.”
But Elise was decided, so away she went, and of course, Roger went too.
“And I’m going,” said Kenneth, as Patty, having followed Elise out into the hall, he joined them there.
“Oh; don’t you go, Ken,” said Patty.
“Yes, I’d rather. When Hepworth comes you get so grown-up all of a sudden. With your ‘Oh, how do you do?’ and yourtea.”
Kenneth mimicked Patty’s voice, which did sound different when she spoke to Mr. Hepworth.
“Ken, you’re very unjust,” said Patty, her cheeks flushing; “of course I have to give Mr. Hepworth tea when he asks for it; and if I seem more ‘grown-up’ with him, it’s because he’s so much older than you are.”
“He is, indeed! About twelve years older! Too old to be your friend. He ought to be calling on Mrs. Fairfield.”
“He is. He calls on us both. I think you’re very silly!”
This conversation had been in undertones, while Elise was donning her hat and furs, and great was her curiosity when Patty turned fromKenneth, with an offended or hurt expression on her face.
“What’s the matter with you two?” she asked, bluntly.
“Nothing,” said Ken, looking humble. “Patty’s been begging me to be more polite to the goldfish.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Patty; “your manners are above reproach, Ken.”
“Thanks, fair lady,” he replied, with a Chesterfieldian bow, and then the three went away.
“Did I drive off your young friends, Patty?” said Mr. Hepworth, as she returned to the library, where Jane was already setting forth the tea things.
Patty was nonplussed. He certainly had driven them away, but she couldn’t exactly tell him so.
“You needn’t answer,” he said, laughing at her dismayed expression. “I am sorry they don’t like me, but until you show that you don’t, I shall continue to come here.”
“I hope you will,” said Patty, earnestly. “It isn’t that they don’t like you, Mr. Hepworth; it’s that they think you don’t like them.”
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t mean exactly that; but they thinkthat you think they’re children,—almost, and you’re bored by them.”
“I’m not bored by you, and you’re a child,—almost.”
“Well, I don’t know how it is,” said Patty, throwing off all responsibility in the matter; “but I like them and I like you, and yet, I’d rather have you at different times.”
“Which do you like better?” asked Mr. Hepworth. He knew it was a foolish question, but it was uttered almost involuntarily.
“Them!” said Patty, but she gave him such a roguish smile as she said it, that he almost thought she meant the opposite.
“Still,” she went on, with what was palpably a mock regret, “I shall have to put up with you for the present; so be as young as you can. How many lumps, please?”
“Two; you see I can be very young.”
“Yes,” said Patty, approvingly; “it is young to take two lumps. But now tell me something about Miss Farley. Have you heard from her or of her lately?”
“Yes, I have,” said Mr. Hepworth, as he stirred his tea. “That is, I’ve heard of her. My friend, down in Virginia, who knows Miss Farley, has sent me another of her sketches, andit proves more positively than ever that the girl has real genius. But, Patty, I want you to give up this scheme of yours to help her. It was good of your father to make the offer he did, but I don’t want you racing around to these dreadful places looking for work. I’m going to get some other people interested in Miss Farley, and I’m sure her art education can be managed in some way. I’d willingly subscribe the whole sum needed, myself, but it would be impossible to arrange it that way. She’d never accept it, if she knew; and it’s difficult to deceive her.”
Patty looked serious.
“I don’t wonder you think I can’t do what I set out to do,” she said slowly, “for I’ve made so many ridiculous failures already. But please don’t lose faith in me, yet. Give me one or two more chances.”
Mr. Hepworth looked kindly into Patty’s earnest eyes.
“Don’t take this thing too seriously,” he said.
“But I want to take it seriously. You think I’m a child,—a butterfly. I assure you I am neither.”
“I think you’re adorable, whatever you are!”was on the tip of Gilbert Hepworth’s tongue; but he did not say it.
Though he cared more for Patty than for anything on earth, he had vowed to himself the girl should never know it. He was thirty-five, and Patty but eighteen, and he knew that was too great a discrepancy in years for him ever to hope to win her affections.
So he contented himself with an occasional evening call, or once in a while dropping in at tea time, resolved never to show to Patty herself the high regard he had for her.
She had told him of her various unsuccessful attempts at “earning her living,” and he deeply regretted that he had been the means of bringing about the situation.
He did not share Mr. Fairfield’s opinion that the experience was a good one for Patty, and would broaden her views of humanity in general, and teach her a few worth-while lessons.
“Please give up the notion,” he urged, after they had talked the matter over.
“Indeed I won’t,” returned Patty. “At least, not until I’ve proved to my own satisfaction that my theories are wrong. And I don’t think yet that they are. I still believe I can earn fifteen dollars a week, without having had specialtraining for any work. Surely I ought to have time to prove myself right.”
“Yes, you ought to have time,” said Mr. Hepworth, gently, “but you ought not to do it at all. It’s an absurd proposition, the whole thing. And as I, unfortunately, brought it about, I want to ask you, please, to drop it.”
“No, sir!” said Patty, gravely, but wagging a roguish forefinger at him; “people can’t undo their mistakes so easily. If, as you say, you brought about this painful situation, then you must sit patiently by and watch me as I flounder about in the various sloughs of despond.”
“Oh, Patty, don’t! Please drop it all,—for my sake!”
Patty looked up in surprise at his earnest tones, but she only laughed gaily, and said:
“Nixy! Not I! Not by no means! But I’ll give in to this extent. I’ll agree not to make more than three more attempts. If I can’t succeed in three more efforts, I’ll give up the game, and confess myself a butterfly and an idiot.”
“The only symptoms of idiocy are shown in your making three more attempts,” said Mr. Hepworth, who was almost angry at Patty’s persistence.
“Oh, pooh! I probably shan’t make threemore! I just somehow feel sure I’ll succeed the very next time.”
“A sanguine idiot is the most hopeless sort,” said Mr. Hepworth, with a resigned air. “May I ask what you intend to attempt next?”
“You may ask, but you can’t be answered, for I don’t yet know, myself. I’ve two or three tempting plans, but I don’t know which to choose. I’ve thought of taking a place as cook.”
“Patty! don’t you dare do such a thing! To think of you in a kitchen,—under orders! Oh, child, howcanyou?”
Patty laughed outright at Mr. Hepworth’s dismay.
“Cheer up!” she cried; “I didn’t mean it! But you think skilled labour is necessary, and truly, I’m skilled in cooking. I really am.”
“Yes, chafing-dish trifles; and fancy desserts.”
“Well, those are good things for a cook to know.”
“Patty, promise me you won’t take any sort of a servant’s position.”
“Oh, I can’t promise that. I fancy I’d make a rather good lady’s-maid or parlour-maid. But I promise you I won’t be a cook. Much as I like to fuss with a chafing-dish, I shouldn’t liketo be kept in a kitchen and boil and roast things all the time.”
“I should say not! Well, since I can’t persuade you to give up your foolish notion, do go on, and get through with your three attempts as soon as possible. Remember, you’ve promised not more than three.”
“I promise,” said Patty, with much solemnity, and then Nan and Mr. Fairfield came in.
Mr. Hepworth appealed at once to Mr. Fairfield, telling him what he had already told Patty.
“Nonsense, Hepworth,” said Patty’s father, “I’m glad you started the ball rolling. It hasn’t done Patty a bit of harm, so far, and it will be an experience she’ll always remember. Let her go ahead; she can’t succeed, but she can have the satisfaction of knowing she tried.”
“I’m not so sure she can’t succeed,” said Nan, standing up for Patty, who looked a little crestfallen at the remarks of her father.
“Good for you, Nan!” cried Patty; “I’ll justify your faith in me yet. I know Mr. Hepworth thinks I’m good for nothing, but Daddy ought to know me better.”
Mr. Hepworth seemed not to notice this petulant outburst, and only said:
“Remember, you’ve promised to withdraw from the arena after three more conflicts.”
“They won’t be conflicts,” said Patty, “and there won’t be but one, anyway!”
“So much the better,” said Mr. Hepworth, calmly.
CHAPTER XIVMRS. VAN REYPEN
It was about a week later. Nothing further had been said or done in the matter of Patty’s “occupation,” and Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield wondered what plan was slowly brewing under the mop of golden curls.
Mr. Hepworth began to hope his words had had an effect after all, and was about to lay the case of Miss Farley before some other true and tried friends.
But he had practically promised Patty to give her time for three more attempts; so he waited.
One day Patty came into the house just in time for luncheon.
“Nan,” she said, as they sat down at the table, “I’ve struck it right this time!”
“In-deed!” said Nan, raising her eyebrows, quizzically.
“Yes, I have! You needn’t laugh like that.”
“I didn’t laugh.”
“Yes, you did,—behind your eyes, but I saw you! Now, as I tell you, this time conquers!”
“Good for you, Patsy! Let me congratulate you. Let me do it now, lest I shouldn’t be able to do it later.”
“Huh! I thought you had faith in me.”
“And so I have, Patty girl,” said Nan, growing serious all at once. “I truly have. Also, I’ll help you, if I can.”
“That’s just it, Nan. You can help me this time, and I’m going to tell you all about it, before I start in.”
“Going to tell me now?”
“Yes, because I go this afternoon.”
“Go where?”
“That’s just it. I go to take a position as a companion to an elderly lady. And I shall stay a week. I’ll take some clothes in a suitcase, or small trunk, and after I’m gone, you must tell father, and make it all right with him.”
“But, Patty, he said at the outset, you must be home by five o’clock every day, whatever you were doing.”
“Yes; but that referred to occupations by the day. Now, that I’ve decided to take this sort of a position, which is really more appropriateto a lady of my ‘social standing,’ you must explain to him that I can’t come home at five o’clock, because I have to stay all the time, nights and all.”
“Patty, you’re crazy!”
“No, I’m not. I’m determined; I’m even stubborn, if you like; but I’mgoing! So, that’s settled. Now, you said you’d help me. Are you going to back out?”
“No; I’m not. But I can’t approve of it.”
“Oh, you can, if you try hard enough. Just think how much properer it is for me to be companion to a lovely lady in her own house, than to be racing around lower Broadway for patchwork!”
“That’s so,” said Nan, and then she realised that if she knew where Patty was going, they could go and bring her home at any time, if Mr. Fairfield wished.
“Well,” she went on, “who’s your lovely lady?”
“Mrs. Van Reypen.”
“Patty Fairfield! NottheMrs. Van Reypen?”
“Yes, the very one! Isn’t it gay? She’s a bit eccentric, and she advertised for a companion, saying the application must be a writtenone. So I pranced up to her house this morning, and secured the position.”
“But she said to apply by letter.”
“Yes; that’s why I went myself! I sent up my card, and a message that I had come in answer to her advertisement. She sent back word that I could go home and write to her. I said I’d write then and there. So I helped myself to her library desk, and wrote out a regular application. In less than five minutes, I was summoned to her august presence, and after looking me over, she engaged me at once. How’s that for quick action?”
“But does she know who you are?”
“Why, she knows my name, and that’s all.”
“But she’s a,—why, she’s sort of an institution.”
“Yes; I know she’s a public benefactor, and all that. But, really, she’s very interesting; though, I fancy she has a quick temper. However, we’ve made the agreement for a week. Then if either of us wants to back out, we’re at liberty to do so.”
“She was willing to arrange it that way?”
“She insisted on it. She never takes anybody until after a week’s trial.”
“What are your duties?”
“Oh, almost nothing. I’m not a social secretary, or anything like that. Merely a companion, to be with her, and read to her occasionally, or perhaps sing to her, and go to drive with her,—and that’s about all.”
“No one else in the family?”
“I don’t think so. She didn’t speak of any one, except her secretary and servants. She’s rather old-fashioned, and the house is dear. All crystal chandeliers, and old frescoed walls and ceilings, and elaborate door-frames. Why, Nan, it’ll be fun to be there a week, and it’s so,—well, so safe and pleasant, you know, and so correct and seemly. Why, if I really had to earn my own living, I couldn’t do better than to be companion to Mrs. Van Reypen.”
“No; I suppose not. What is the salary?”
“Ah, that’s the beauty of it! It’s just fifteen dollars a week. And as I get ‘board and lodging’ beside, I’m really doing better than I agreed to.”
“I don’t like it, Patty,” said Nan, after a few moments’ thought. “But it’s better, in some ways, than the other things you’ve done. Go on, and I’ll truly do all I can to talk your father into letting you stay there a week; but if he won’t consent, I can’t help it.”
“Why, of course he’ll consent, Nan, if you put it to him right. You can make him see anything as you see it, if you try. You know you can.”
“Well, go ahead. I suppose a week will pass; and anyway, you’ll probably come flying home after a couple of days.”
“No; I’m going to stay the week, if it finishes me. I’m tired of defeats; this time I conquer. You may help me pack, if you like.”
“You won’t need many frocks, will you?” said Nan, as they went up to Patty’s room.
“No; just some light, dressy things for evening,—she’s rather formal,—and some plain morning gowns.”
Nan helped Patty with her selection, and a small trunk was filled with what they considered an appropriate wardrobe for a companion.
At about four o’clock Patty started, in the motor-car.
Mrs. Van Reypen received her pleasantly, and as they sat chatting over a cup of tea, Patty felt more like an honoured guest than a subordinate.
Then Mrs. Van Reypen dismissed her, saying:
“Go to your room now, my dear, and occupy yourself as you choose until dinner-time. Dinner is at seven. There will be no guests, butyou will wear a light, pretty gown, if you please. I am punctilious in such matters.”
Patty went to her room, greatly pleased with the turn events had taken. She wished she could telephone home how pleasantly she was getting along; but she thought wiser not to do that so soon.
As it neared dinner-time, she put on one of her prettiest dresses, a light blue chiffon, with a touch of silver embroidery round the half-low throat and short sleeves.
A few minutes before seven, she went slowly down the dark, old staircase, with its massive newels and balusters.
As she reached the middle steps, she observed an attractive, but bored-looking young man in the hall.
He had not noticed her light steps, and Patty paused a moment to look at him. As she stood, wondering who he might be, he chanced to turn, and saw her.
The young man ran his eyes swiftly, from the cloud of blue chiffon, up to the smiling face, with its crown of massed golden hair, which a saucy bow of blue ribbon did its best to hold in place.
His face promptly lost its bored expression,and with his hands still in his pockets, he involuntarily breathed a long, low whistle.
The sound seemed to bring back his lost wits, and quickly drawing his hands into view, he stepped forward, saying:
“I beg your pardon for that unconventional note of admiration, but I trust you will accept it as the tribute for which it was meant.”
This was an easy opening, and Patty was quite ready to respond gaily, when she suddenly remembered her position in the house and wondered if a companion ought to speak to a strange young man in the same language a young person in society might use.
“Thank you,” she said, uncertainly, and her shy hesitation completely captured the heart of Philip Van Reypen.
“Come on down; I won’t eat you,” he said, reassuringly. “You are, I assume, a guest of my aunt’s.”
“I am Mrs. Van Reypen’s companion,” said Patty, but though she made the announcement demurely enough, the funny side of it all struck her so forcibly that she had difficulty to keep the corners of her mouth from showing her amusement.
“By Jove!” exclaimed the young man,“Aunty Van always is lucky! Now, I’m her nephew.”
“Does that prove her good luck?” said Patty, unable to be prim in the face of this light gaiety.
“Yes, indeed! Come on down, and get acquainted, and you’ll agree with me.”
“I don’t believe I ought to,” said Patty, hesitatingly placing one little satin-slippered foot on the next step below, and then pausing again. “You see, I’ve never been a companion before, but I don’t think it’s right for me to precede Mrs. Van Reypen into the drawing-room.”
“Ah, well, perhaps not. Stay on the stairs, then, if you think that’s the proper place. I daresay it is,—I never was a companion, either; so I’m not sure. But sit down, won’t you? I’ll sit here, if I may.”
Young Van Reypen dropped onto a stair a few steps below Patty, who sat down, too, feeling decidedly at her ease, for, upon occasion, a staircase was one of her favourite haunts.
“It’s like a party,” she said, smiling. “I love to sit on a staircase at a party, don’t you?”
And so provocative of sociability did the staircase prove, that when Mrs. Van Reypen came down, in all the glory of her black velvet and old lace, she nearly tumbled over two chattingyoung people, who seemed to be very good friends.
“Philip! You here?” she exclaimed, and a casual observer would have said she was not too well pleased.
“Yes, Aunty Van; aren’t you as glad to see me as I am to see you? I’ve been making Miss Fairfield’s acquaintance. You may introduce us if you like, but it isn’t really necessary.”
“So it seems,” said the old lady, drily; “but as I have some regard for the conventions, I will present to you, Miss Fairfield, my scape-grace and ne’er-do-well nephew, Philip Van Reypen.”
“What an awful reputation to live up to,” said Patty, smiling at the debonair Philip, who quite looked the part his aunt assigned to him.
“Awful, but not at all difficult,” he responded, gaily, and Patty followed as he escorted his aunt to the dining-room.
The little dinner-party was a gay one; Mrs. Van Reypen became mildly amiable under the influence of the young people’s merry chatter, and Patty felt that so far, at least, a companion’s lot was not such a very unhappy one.
After dinner, however, the young man was sent peremptorily away. He begged to stay,but his aunt ordered him off, declaring that she had seen enough of him, and he was not to return for a week at least. Philip went away, sulkily, declaring that he would call the very next morning to inquire after his aunt’s health.
“I trust you are not flirtatiously inclined, Miss Fairfield,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as the two sat alone in the large and rather sombre drawing-room.
“I am not,” said Patty, honestly. “I like gay and merry conversation, but as your companion, I consider myself entirely at your orders, and have no mind to chatter if you do not wish me to do so.”
“That is right,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, approvingly. “You cannot have many friends in your present position, of course. And you must not feel flattered at Mr. Philip’s apparent admiration of you. He is a most impressionable youth, and is caught by every new face he sees.”
Patty smiled at the idea of her being unduly impressed by Mr. Van Reypen’s glances. She had given him no thought, save as a good-natured, well-bred young man.
But she pleasantly assured Mrs. Van Reypen that she would give her nephew no further consideration, and though Mrs. Van Reypen lookedsharply at Patty’s face, she saw only an honest desire to please her employer.
The evening was long and uninteresting.
At Mrs. Van Reypen’s request, Patty read to her, and then sang for her.
But the lady was critical, and declared that the reading was too fast, and the singing too loud, so that when at last it was bedtime, Patty wondered whether she was giving satisfaction or not.
But she was engaged for a week, anyway, and whether satisfactory or not, Mrs. Van Reypen must keep her for that length of time, and that was all Patty wanted.
She woke next morning with a pang of homesickness. It was a bit forlorn, to wake up as a hired companion, instead of as a beloved daughter in her own father’s house.
But resolutely putting aside such thoughts, she forced herself to think of her good fortune in securing her present position.
“I’m glad I’m here!” she assured herself, as she dashed cold water into her suspiciously reddened eyes. “I know I shall have all sorts of odd and interesting adventures here; and I’m determined to be happy whatever happens. And, anyway, it will be over soon. A week isn’t long.”
Putting on a trim morning dress, of soft old rose cashmere, with a fine embroidered white yoke, she went sedately down to the breakfast room. She had been told to come to breakfast at nine o’clock, and the clock struck the hour just as she crossed the threshold.
Instead of her employer, she was astounded to see Philip Van Reypen calmly seated at the table.
“Jolly to see you again!” he cried, as he jumped up to greet her. “Just thought I’d run in for a bite of breakfast, and to inquire how Aunty Van’s cold is.”
“I didn’t know she had a cold,” said Patty, primly, trying to act as she thought a companion ought to act.
“Neither did I,” said the irrepressible Philip. “But I didn’t know but she might have caught one in the night. A germ flying in at the window, or something.”
Mindful of Mrs. Van Reypen’s admonitions, Patty tried not to appear interested in the young man’s remarks, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was interested in her.
She responded to his gay banter in monosyllables, and kept her dancing eyes veiled by theirown long-fringed lids, but this only served to pique Philip’s curiosity.
“I’ve a notion to spend the day here, with Aunty Van,” he said, and then Patty glanced up at him in positive alarm.
“Don’t!” she cried, and her face betokened a genuine distress.
“Why not?” said the surprised young man; “have you learned to dislike me so cordially already?”
Amiable Patty couldn’t stand for this misinterpretation of her attitude, and her involuntary, smiling glance was a sufficient disclaimer.
But she was saved the necessity of a verbal reply, for just at that moment Mrs. Van Reypen came into the room.
CHAPTER XVPERSISTENT PHILIP
“Why, Philip!” Mrs. Van Reypen exclaimed; “you are indeed growing attentive to your aged aunt!”
“Middle-aged aunt!” he returned, gallantly; “and belonging to the early middle-ages at that! I told you I should call this morning, and I’d like another egg, please, aunty.”
“You may have all the eggs you want, but I am not at all pleased with your presence here after I expressly forbade it.”
“Oh, it isn’t a crime to call on one’s own aunt, is it?”
“It’s extremely rude. I have a busy day before me, and I don’t want a bothersome nephew around.”
Mrs. Van Reypen was exceedingly fond of Philip, and loved to have him at her house, but it was easy to be seen, now, that she considered him far too much interested in pretty Patty.
And partly because he was interested, and partly to tease his long-suffering aunt, the young man declared his intention of spending the day with them.
“I can’t have you, Philip,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, decidedly. “I want you to go away immediately after breakfast.”
“Just my luck!” grumbled her nephew. “I never can do anything I want to. Well, I’ll go downtown, but I’ll be back here to luncheon.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, shortly; “you’ll do nothing of the sort.”
The rest of the meal was not very enjoyable. Mrs. Van Reypen was clearly displeased at her nephew’s presence; Patty did not think it wise to take any active part in the conversation; and, though Philip was in gay spirits, it was not easy to be merry alone.
Patty couldn’t help smiling at his audacious speeches, but she kept her eyes down on her plate, and endeavoured to ignore the young man’s presence, for she knew this was what Mrs. Reypen wished her to do.
“Now you may go,” said the hostess, as Philip finished his egg. “I’d like to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace.”
“Oh, I’m peaceful!” declared Philip, crossinghis hands on his breast and rolling up his eyes with an angelic expression.
“Good-by, Philip,” said his aunt, so icily that the young man rose from the table and stalked out of the room.
“Now,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, “we are rid of him.”
But in a few moments the smiling face again appeared at the door.
“I forgot to say good-by to Miss Fairfield,” he announced, cheerfully. “Mayn’t I do that, aunty?”
Mrs. Van Reypen gave an annoyed “Humph!” and Patty, taking her cue, bowed very coldly, and said “Good-morning, Mr. Van Reypen” in an utterly impersonal tone.
Philip chuckled, and went away, slamming the street door behind him, as a final annoyance to his aunt.
“You mustn’t think him a rude boy, Miss Fairfield,” she said. “But he delights to tease me, and unless I am positively cross to him he never lets up. But he is really devoted to me, and, I assure you, he scarcely noted your presence at all.”
“Of course not,” said Patty, with great difficulty restraining a burst of laughter. “No onecould dream of Mr. Philip Van Reypen observing a companion.” Patty did not mean this for sarcasm; she desired only to set Mrs. Van Reypen’s mind at rest, and then the subject of Philip was dropped.
Soon after breakfast Mrs. Van Reypen conducted Patty to a pleasant morning room, and asked her to read the newspaper aloud.
“And do try to read slower,” she added. “I hate rapid gabbling.”
Patty had resolved not to take offence at the brusque remarks, which she knew would be hurled at her, so, somewhat meekly, she took up the paper and began.
It was a trying task. If she read an account of anything unpleasant she was peremptorily stopped; if the news was dry or prosy, that was also cut off short.
“Read me the fashion notes,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, at last.
So Patty read a whole page about the latest modes, and her hearer was greatly interested.
She then told Patty of some new gowns she was having made, and seemed pleased at Patty’s intelligent comments on them.
“Why, you have good taste!” she exclaimed, as if making a surprising discovery. “I willtake you with me this afternoon when I go to Madame Leval’s to try on my gowns.”
“Very well,” said Patty. “And now, Mrs. Van Reypen, I’m sure there’s nothing more of interest in the paper; what shall I do next?”
“Heavens! Miss Fairfield, don’t ask such a question as that! You are here to entertain me. I am not to provide amusement for you! Why do you suppose I have you here, if not to make my time pass pleasantly?”
Patty was bewildered at this outburst. Though she knew her duties would be light, she supposed they would be clearly defined, and not left to her own invention.
But she was anxious to please, and she said, pleasantly:
“I think that’s really what I meant, but I didn’t express myself very well. And, you see, I don’t yet quite know your tastes. Do you like fancy work? I know a lovely new crochet stitch I could show you.”
“No; I hate crocheting. The wool gets all snarled up, and the pattern gets wrong every few stitches.”
“Then we’ll dismiss that. Do you like to play cards? I know cribbage, and some other games that two can play.”
“No; I detest cards. I think it is very foolish to sit and fumble with bits of painted pasteboard!”
Poor Patty was at her wits’ end. She had not expected to be a professional entertainer, and she didn’t know what to suggest next.
She felt sure Mrs. Van Reypen wouldn’t care to listen to any more reading just then. She hesitated to propose music, as it had not been very successful the night before. On a sudden impulse, she said:
“Do you like to see dancing? I can do some pretty fancy dances.”
It seemed an absurd thing to say, but Patty had ransacked her brain to think what professional entertainers did, and that was all she could think of, except recitations, and those she hated herself.
“Yes, I do!” cried Mrs. Van Reypen, so emphatically that Patty jumped. “I love to see dancing! If you can do it, which I doubt, I wish you would dance for me. And this evening we’ll go to see that new dancer that the town is wild over. If you really can dance, you’ll appreciate it as I do. To me dancing is a fine art, and should be considered so—but it rarely is. Do you require music?”
“Of course, I prefer it, but I can dance without.”
“We’ll try it without, first; then, if I wish to, I’ll ask Delia, my parlour-maid, to play for you. She plays fairly well. Or, if it suits me, I may play myself.”
Patty made no response to these suggestions, but followed Mrs. Van Reypen to the great drawing-room, at one end of which was a grand piano.
“Try it without music, first,” was the order, and Patty walked to the other end of the long room, while Mrs. Van Reypen seated herself on a sofa. Serenely conscious of her proficiency in the art, Patty felt no embarrassment, and, swaying gently, as if listening to rhythm, she began a pretty little fancy dance that she had learned some years ago.
She danced beautifully, and she loved to dance, so she made a most effective picture, as she pirouetted back and forth, or from side to side of the long room.
“Beautiful!” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as Patty paused in front of her and bowed. “You are a charming dancer. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed anything so much. Are you tired? Will you dance again?”
“I’m not at all tired,” said Patty. “I like to dance, and I’m very glad it pleases you.”
“Can you do a minuet?” asked the old lady, after Patty had finished another dance, a gay little Spanish fandango.
“Yes; but I like music for that.”
“Good! I will play myself.” With great dignity, Mrs. Van Reypen rose and walked to the piano.
Patty adjusted the music-stool for her, and she ran her delicate old fingers lightly over the keys.
“I’m sadly out of practice,” she said, “but I can play a tinkling minuet and you may dance to it.”
She began a melodious little air, and Patty, after listening a moment, nodded her head, and ran to take her place.
Mrs. Van Reypen was so seated at the piano that she could watch Patty’s dance, and in a moment the two were in harmony, and Patty was gliding and bowing in a charming minuet, while Mrs. Van Reypen played in perfect sympathy.
The dance was nearly over when Patty discovered the smiling face of Mr. Philip Van Reypen in the doorway.
His aunt could not see him, and Patty saw only his reflection in the mirror. He gave her a pleading glance, and put his finger on his lip, entreating her silence.
So she went on, without seeming to see him. But she wondered what his aunt would say after the dance was over.
Indeed, the funny side of the situation struck her so forcibly that she unconsciously smiled broadly at her own thoughts.
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as the dancing and music both came to an end; “I am glad to see you smile as you dance. I have seen some dancers who look positively agonised as they do difficult steps.”
Patty smiled again, remembering that she had had a reason to smile as she danced, and she wondered why Philip didn’t appear.
But he didn’t, and, except that she had seen him so clearly in the mirror, and he had asked her, silently but unmistakably, not to divulge the fact of his presence, she would have thought she only imagined him there in the doorway.
“You dance wonderfully well,” went on Mrs. Van Reypen. “You have had very good training. I shall be glad to have you dance for me often. But—and please remember this—neverwhen any one else is here. I wish you to dance for me only. If I have guests, or if my nephew is here, you are not to dance.”
This was almost too much for Patty’s gravity. For she well knew the old lady was foolishly alarmed lest her nephew should fall in love with a humble “companion,” and, knowing that the said nephew had gleefully watched the dance, it was difficult not to show her amusement.
But she only said, “I will remember, Mrs. Van Reypen.” She couldn’t tell of the intruder after his frantic appeal to her for silence, so she determined to ignore the episode.
“Now, you may do as you like until luncheon time,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, “for I shall go to my room and lie down for a rest. My maid will attend me, so I will bid you adieu until one o’clock. Wander round the house if you choose. You will find much to interest you.”
“Right you are!” thought Patty to herself. “I don’t believe I’d have to wander far to find a jolly comrade to interest me!” But she well knew if Mr. Philip Van Reypen was still in the house, and if she should encounter him and chat with him, it would greatly enrage the old lady.
“And,” thought Patty, “since I’ve made goodwith my dancing it’s a shame to spoil my record by talking to Sir Philip. But he is pleasant.”
Determined to do her duty, she went straight to her own room, though tempted to “wander round the house.”
And sure enough, though she didn’t know it, Mr. Van Reypen was watching her from behind the drawing-room draperies. His face fell as he saw her go up the stairs, and, though he waited some time, she did not return.
“Saucy Puss!” he thought. “But I’ll have a chat with her yet.”
Going to the library he scribbled a note, and sent it by a servant to Miss Fairfield’s room. The note said: