"Tired?" asked Mrs. Perry, as she welcomed Patty to her side.
"A little; I love to dance, but a long program does weary me. Are we going home soon?"
"Whenever you like, dear."
"Oh, not until the others are ready. There goes Marie. She's having a lovely time to-night. Isn't she a pretty thing?—and so popular."
Patty's admiration was sincere and honest, and Marie's dark, glowing beauty was well worthy of commendation.
But seeing Patty sitting by Mrs. Perry, Marie came to them, when the dance ended, and declared that she was quite ready to go home, although the program wasn't finished.
"What's all this about?" inquired Kit Cameron, coming up to them. "Go home? Not a bit of it! There are a lot of dances yet."
"Well, you stay for them if you like, Kit," said his sister, rising. "I'm going to take these girls away. They've danced quite enough, and it's time they went home."
"Whither thou all goest, I will go also," said Cameron. "Where'sHarper?"
Kenneth and Dick Perry came along then, and both men expressed their willingness to go home.
Patty was rather silent during the homeward way, and indeed, as all were more or less weary, there was little gay conversation.
As they entered the house, Nora, the parlour-maid, appeared to take their wraps.
"Where is Babette?" asked Mrs. Perry, surprised to see Nora in place of her French maid.
"Sure she's sick, Mrs. Perry; she do be feelin' that bad, she had to go to bed. So she bid me do the best I can for the young ladies."
"I'm sorry to hear Babette is ill; I must go and see her at once." AndMrs. Perry went away toward the servants' quarters.
She returned shortly, saying Babette had a bad cold and a slight fever, but that her symptoms were not alarming.
"But I'm sorry you girls can't have her services to-night," Mrs. Perry went on.
"It doesn't matter a bit," said Patty; "I'd be sorry for myself, if I couldn't get in and out of my own clothes! Don't think of it, Mrs. Perry."
They all went up to their rooms, and though Nora did her best to assist Patty, her unskilful help bothered more than it aided. So she kindly dismissed the girl, and catching up a kimono went across to Marie's room.
"You get me out of this frock, won't you, Marie?" she said. "It fidgets me to have Nora fumbling with the hooks. It's a complicated arrangement and I know she'd tear the lace."
Marie willingly acquiesced, and then Patty slipped off the pretty yellow gown, and got into her blue silk kimono.
"Stay here and brush out your hair, Patty," said Marie, "and we can have a 'kimono chat,' all by ourselves."
So Patty sat down at Marie's toilet table, and began to brush out her golden curls.
"Did you like the ball, Patty?" asked Marie, as she braided her own dark hair.
"Lovely! Everybody was so nice to me. And you had a good time yourself,I know. I saw you breaking hearts, one after another, you little siren."
"Siren, yourself! How did you like that Bell boy?"
"Gracious! That sounds like a hotel attendant! In fact I think 'bellhop,' as I believe they call them, wouldn't be a bad name for Eddie Bell. I liked him ever so much, but he was a little,—well,—fresh is the only word that expresses it."
"He is cheeky; but he doesn't mean anything. He's a nice boy; I've known him for years. He's an awful flirt,—but he admired you like everything. Though as to that, who doesn't?"
"Oh, I don't think so much of this general admiration. I think if a young girl isn't admired, it's her own fault. She only has to be gay and pleasant and good-natured, and people are bound to like her."
"Yes," agreed Marie; "but there are degrees. I'll tell you who likes you an awful lot,—and that's Mr. Harper."
"Oh, Kenneth;" Patty spoke carelessly, but she couldn't prevent a rising blush. "Why, Marie, we've been chums for years. I used to know Ken Harper when I was a little girl and lived in Vernondale. He's a dear boy, but we're just good friends."
"I like him," and Marie said this so ingenuously, that Patty gave her a quick look. "Don't you like anybody ESPECIALLY, Patty?"
"No, I don't. All boys look alike to me. I like to have them to dance with, and to send me flowers and candy; and I don't mind make-believe flirting with them; but the minute they get serious, I want to run away."
"Aren't you ever going to be engaged, Patty?"
"Nonsense! Marie, we're too young to think about such things. After a few years I shall begin to consider the matter; and if I find anybody that I simply can't live without, I shall proceed to marry him. Now, curiosity-box, is there anything else you want to know?"
"I didn't mean to be curious," and Marie's pretty face looked troubled; "but, Patty, I will ask you one more question: Couldn't you,—couldn't you like,—specially, I mean,—my cousin Kit?"
"Marie, I've a notion to shake you! You little match-maker,—or mischief-maker,—stop getting notions into your head! In the first place, I've known your paragon of a cousin only a few weeks; and in the second place, there's no use going any further than the first place! Now, you go to sleep, and dream about birds and flowers and sunshine, and don't fill your pretty head with grown-up notions."
"You're a funny girl, Patty," and Marie looked at her with big, serious eyes.
"If it's funny to be a common-sense, rational human being, then I AM funny! Now, good-night, chickabiddy. Mrs. Perry says she'll send up our breakfast about nine to-morrow morning. Hop into my room and have it with me, won't you?"
Marie agreed to this arrangement, and gathering up her belongings,Patty slipped across the hall to her own room.
The wood fire had burnt down to red embers, and lowering the lights,Patty sat down for a few moments in a big fireside chair to think.
She had told the truth, that she did not want to think seriously of what Marie called "an especial liking" for anybody; but what Kenneth had said that evening troubled her.
Her friendship for Kenneth was so firm and strong, her real regard for him so deep and sincere, that she hated to have it intruded upon by a question of a more serious feeling. And she had never suspected that any such question would arise. But she could not mistake the meaning of Kenneth's spoken wish that he might be capable of the gay conversation in which Patty delighted.
"Dear old Ken," she said to herself, "he's so nice just as he is, but when he tries to be funny, he—well, he CAN'T, that's all. It isn't his fault. All the boys can't be alike. And I s'pose Ken IS the nicest of them, after all. He's so true and reliable. But I hope to gracious he isn't going to fall in love with me. That would spoil everything I Oh, well, I won't cross that bridge until I come to it. And if I have come to it,—well, I won't cross it, even then. I'll just stand stock-still, and wait. I believe there's a poem somewhere, that says:
"'Standing with reluctant feetWhere the brook and river meet,—Womanhood and childhood sweet.'
"I s'pose I HAVE left childhood behind, but I feel a long way off from womanhood. And yet, in a couple of months I'll be twenty. That does begin to sound aged! But I know one thing, sure and certain: I'll wait till I AM twenty, before I think about a serious love affair. Suitors are all very well, but I wouldn't be engaged to a man for anything! Why, I don't suppose he'd let me dance with anybody else, or have any fun at all! No, sir-ee, Patricia Fairfield, you're going to have two or three years of your present satisfactory existence, before you wear anybody's diamond ring. And now, my Lady Gay, you'd better skip to bed, for to-morrow night you have a theatre party in prospect, and you want to look fairly decent for that."
The fire was burnt out now, and Patty was so sleepy that her head had scarcely touched the pillow before she fell asleep.
A light tap at her door awakened her the next morning, and Marie appeared, followed by Nora, with a breakfast tray.
"Wake up, curly-head-sleepy-head," and Marie playfully tweaked Patty's curls. "Here, I'll be your maid. Here's your nightingale, and here's your breakfast cap."
Marie deftly arrayed Patty in the pretty trifles, and poked pillows behind her back until she was comfortable.
"Goodness gracious sakes! Marie," said Patty, rubbing her eyes, "you waked me out of the soundest sleep I have ever known! WHY bother me with breakfast?"
"Had to do it," returned Marie, calmly, drawing up a big chair for herself. "Now keep your eyes open and behave like a lady. Your chocolate is getting cool and your toast is spoiling."
The two girls were still discussing their breakfast, when Mrs. Perry came in.
"How are you getting on?" she asked, cheerily; "Babette is still ill, so I had to send Nora to you."
"Everything is lovely," said Patty, smiling at her hostess. "We're delightfully looked after. Nora is a jewel. But I hope your maid isn't seriously ill."
"I'm afraid she is," and Mrs. Perry looked troubled. "She has a bad sore throat and she's quite feverish. Now you girlies dawdle around as much as you like. Although I'm commissioned to tell you that there are two young men downstairs just pining for you, and they asked me to coax you to come down at once."
"Let them wait," said Patty; "we'll be down after a while. Mayn't we see the baby?"
"Yes, indeed, if you like. I'll send her in."
Soon a dainty little morsel of fragrant humanity appeared, accompanied by her nurse.
The tot was a trifle shy, but Patty's merry smile soon put her at her ease.
"Tell the lady your name, dear," said Marie.
"Pitty Yady!" said the baby, caressing Patty's cheek.
"Yes," said Marie, "now tell the pretty lady your name."
"Baby Boo," said the child.
"Baby Boo! What a dear name!" said Patty.
"Her name is Beulah," Marie explained, "but she always calls herselfBaby Boo, so every one else does."
"It's just the name for her," said Patty, catching up the midget in her arms and cuddling her.
"Pitty Yady," repeated the baby, gazing at Patty.
"She's struck with your beauty, Patty, like everybody else," saidMarie, laughing.
"It's mutual, then," returned Patty, "for I think she's the prettiest baby I ever saw. And she does smell so good! I love a violet baby." And Patty kissed the back of the soft little neck and squeezed the baby up in her arms.
"Now Baby Boo must go away," said Marie, at last, "for the Pitty Yady must get dressed and go downstairs."
Patty had brought a morning frock, of pink linen with a black velvet sash, and she looked very trim and sweet as she at last declared herself ready.
The two girls went downstairs, and found two very impatient young men awaiting them.
"Whatever HAVE you girls been doing all the morning?" exclaimedCameron; "you CAN'T have been sleeping until this time!"
"Playing with the baby, and exchanging confidences," said Patty, smiling.
"Both of which you might as well have done down here," Cameron declared. "I adore my baby niece, and Mr. Harper and I would have been more than glad to listen to your exchange of confidences."
"Oh, they weren't intended for your ears!" exclaimed Marie, with mock horror. "Kimono confidences are very, VERY sacred. But it may well be that your ears burn."
"Which ear?" asked Kenneth, feeling of both of his.
"Fair exchange," said Marie, gaily. "Tell us what you said about us, and we'll tell you what we said about you."
"We said you were the two prettiest and sweetest girls in the world," said Cameron.
"And we said," declared Patty, "that you were the two handsomest and most delightful men in the world."
"But we said you had some faults," said Kenneth, gravely.
"And we said you had," retorted Marie. "Let's tell each other our faults. That's always an interesting performance, for it always winds up with a quarrel."
"I love a quarrel," said Cameron, enthusiastically. "I dare anybody to tell me my greatest faults!"
"Conceit," said Marie, smiling at her cousin.
"That isn't a fault; it's a virtue," Kit retorted.
"That's so," and Marie nodded her head; "if you didn't have that virtue, you wouldn't have any."
"That's a facer!" said Kit. "Well, Marie, my dear, as you haven't THAT virtue, am I to conclude you haven't any?"
"That's very pretty," and Patty nodded, approvingly; "but I want to stop this game before it's my turn, for I'm too sensitive to have my faults held up to the public eye."
"But we haven't quarrelled yet," said Kit, who looked disappointed."Why do you like to quarrel so much?" asked Patty.
"Because it's such fun to kiss and make up."
"Is it?" asked Patty; "I'd like to see it done, then. You and Ken quarrel, and then let us see you kiss and make up."
"Harper is too good-natured to quarrel and I'm not good-natured enough to kiss him," said Kit. "I guess I won't quarrel to-day, after all. I can't seem to get the right partner. Let's try some other game. Want to go over to the club and bowl?"
"Yes, indeed," cried Patty; "I'd love to."
So the four young people bundled into fur coats, and motored over to the country club.
They were all good players and enjoyed their game till Kit reminded them that it was nearly luncheon time, and they went back to the house.
"How is Babette?" Patty inquired, as their hostess appeared at luncheon.
"She's worse;" and Mrs. Perry looked very anxious. "I don't want to worry you girls, but I think you would better go home this afternoon, for I don't know what Babette's case may develop into. The doctor was here this morning, and he has sent a trained nurse to take care of the girl. I confess I am worried."
"Oh, we were going this afternoon, anyway," said Patty. "I have to, asI have an engagement this evening. But I'm sorry for you, Mrs. Perry.It is awful to have illness in the house. What is it you are afraid of?"
"I hate to mention it, but the doctor fears diphtheria. Now don't be alarmed, for there is positively no danger, if you go this afternoon. But I can't risk your staying an hour longer than is necessary. Nora will help you pack your things. And I'm going to send you off right after lunch."
After luncheon the doctor came again, and Mrs. Perry went off to confer with him.
"Excuse me," said Kit Cameron, as his sister left the room, "I must stand by Lora, and I want to find out from the doctor if there is really any danger. Perhaps my sister's fears are exaggerated."
It was nearly half an hour before Kit came back, and then he looked extremely serious.
"I have bad news for you," he said; "Babette's illness is diphtheria,—a severe case."
"Oh, the poor girl!" said Patty, with impulsive sympathy.
"Yes, indeed, little Babette is pretty sick. And, too, it's awfully hard on Lora. But that isn't all of it."
"What else?" said Marie, breathless with suspense.
"I hardly know how to tell you," and Cameron's face was very troubled. "But I suppose the best way is to tell you straight out. The truth is, we are all quarantined. We can't go away from here."
"Quarantined!" cried Patty, who knew that this meant several weeks' imprisonment; "oh, NO!"
"Yes," and Kit looked at her with pained eyes; "can you ever forgive me, Miss Fairfield, for bringing you here? But of course I could not foresee this awful climax to our pleasant party."
"Of course you couldn't!" cried Patty;—"don't think for a moment that we blame you, Mr. Cameron. But,—you must excuse me if I feel rather—rather—"
"Flabbergasted," put in Kenneth; "it's an awful thing, Cameron, but we must take it philosophically. Brace up, Patty girl, don't let this thing floor you."
Patty gave one look into Kenneth's eyes, and read there so much sympathy, courage, and strong helpfulness, that she was ashamed of herself.
"Forgive me for being so selfish," she said, as the tears came into her eyes. "Of course we must stay, if the doctor orders; I know how strict they have to be about these things. And we will stay cheerfully, as long as we must. It's dreadful to impose on Mrs. Perry so, but we can't help it, and we must simply make the best of it. We'll help her all we can, and I'm sure Marie and I can do a lot."
"You're a brick!" and Cameron gave her a look of appreciation. "PoorLora is heart-broken at the trouble it makes for you girls, and forHarper. She quite loses sight of her own anxieties in worrying aboutyou all."
"Tell her to stop it," said Marie; "I rather think that we can bear our part of it, considering what Cousin Lora has to suffer. Can Cousin Dick come home?"
"I hadn't thought of that!" exclaimed Cameron. "Why, no; that is, if he can't go back to his office again. We'll have to telephone him to stay in New York until the siege is raised. There are many things to think of, but as I am responsible for bringing you people up here, naturally that worries me the most. I'm not to blame for the maid's illness or for Dick's enforced absence from home. But I AM to blame for bringing you girls up here at all."
"Don't talk of blame, Mr. Cameron, please," said Patty's soft voice; "you kindly brought us here to give us pleasure and you did so. The fact that this emergency has arisen is of no blame to anybody. The only one to be blamed is the one who cannot meet it bravely!"
"You're the most wonderful girl in the world!" exclaimed Cameron, in a burst of admiration at Patty's speech.
But Kenneth looked steadily at Patty, with a thoughtful gaze.
"You're keyed up," he said to her, gently; "and if you take it like that, you'll collapse."
"Like what?" Patty snapped out the words, for her nerves were strung to a high tension.
"Doing the hysterical histrionic act," and Kenneth smiled at the excited girl, not reprovingly, but with gentle sympathy. "Now take it standing, Patty,—face it squarely,—and you'll be all right. We're housed up here,—for how long, Cameron?"
"I—I don't know," said Kit, looking desperate.
"That only means you won't tell," declared his cousin. "Own up, Kit, how long did the doctor say?"
"Three or four weeks."
"Oh!" Patty merely breathed the word, but it sounded like a wail of despair. Then she caught Kenneth's eye, and his glance of steadfast courage nerved her anew.
"It's all right," she said, almost succeeding in keeping a quiver out of her voice. "We can have a real good time. People can send us all sorts of things, and,—I suppose we can't write letters,—but we can telephone. Oh, that reminds me; may I telephone Mr. Van Reypen at once, that I can't"—Patty blinked her eyes, and swallowed hard—"that I can't be at my—at his party this evening?"
Mr. Cameron looked a picture of abject grief.
"Miss Fairfield," he began, "if I could only tell you how sorry I am—"
"Please don't," said Patty, kindly; "I've accepted the situation now, and you won't hear a single wail of woe from me. Pooh! what's a theatre party more or less among me! And a few weeks' rest will do us all good. We'll pretend we're at a rest cure or sanitarium, and go to bed early, and get up late, and all that."
"Oh, of course we must all telephone to our homes," said Marie; "and I must say, I think girls are selfish creatures! We've never given a thought to Mr. Harper's business!"
"Don't give it a thought," said Kenneth, lightly. "I've given it one or two already, and I may give it another. That's enough for any old business."
"That sounds well, Ken," said Patty, "but I know it's going to make you a terrific lot of trouble. And Mr. Cameron, too! A civil engineer—"
"Can't be uncivil, even in a case like this," put in Kit; "or I'd say what I really feel about the whole business! It would be worse, of course, if one of our own people were ill; but to be tied up like this because of a servant is, to say the least, exasperating."
"Babette's a nice little thing, and I'm awfully sorry for her," saidPatty.
"So am I," said Marie; "but I'm like Kit. I think it's awful for half a dozen of us to be held here, like this, because a maid is ill!"
"But, Marie, what's the use of even thinking about it?" said Patty; "we can't help ourselves, we're obliged to stay here, so for goodness' sake, let's make the best of it. I shall send home for my pink chiffon,—that's always a great comfort to me in time of trouble."
"Send for one for me," said Cameron, "if they're so comforting in trouble."
"I've only one," returned Patty, "but you can share the benefit of its comforting qualities. Now we'll have to take turns at the telephone. Suppose I take it first, and break the news to Mr. Van Reypen, for he'll have to invite somebody in my place."
"You're sure it's positive?" said Kenneth to Cameron; "you're sure there's no hope of a reprieve or a mistaken diagnosis?"
"No," said Kit, positively; "I made sure, before I told you at all."
"Of course you did," said Patty, trying to be cheerful. "I know you wouldn't have told us, until you were sure you had to. Now I'll telephone to Phil, and then to my home, and then, Marie, you can tell your people, and after that we'll let the men fix up their business affairs. What a comfort it is that we can telephone, for I don't suppose we'll be allowed to write letters, unless we fumigate them, and I won't inflict my friends with those horrid odours."
The telephone was in the library, and as Patty crossed the hall, she met Mrs. Perry coming toward her.
Mrs. Perry had her handkerchief to her eyes, and Patty went straight to her and put her arms around her.
"Dear Mrs. Perry," she said, "I am SO sorry for you! To have Babette's illness, and then to have the burden of four guests at the same time! But, truly, we'll make just as little trouble as we can, and I hope you'll let us help in any way possible."
"Oh, Patty," Lora Perry said, in a choked voice, "I feel dreadful about making you stay here in these circumstances! Just think of all your engagements,—and all the fun you'll miss. It's perfectly awful!"
"Now don't think of those things at all. Just remember that your four guests are not complaining a bit. We know you're sorry for us and you know we're sorry for you, and we're all sorry for poor Babette. Now that part's settled, and we're all going to make the best of it. You don't go into Babette's room, do you?"
"Oh, no; I couldn't go near the baby, if I did. And the patient has a trained nurse, you know. Honestly, Patty,—you don't mind my calling you Patty, do you?"
"No, indeed, I like to have you."
"Well, I was going to say, I don't really think there's a bit of danger of infection for any of us. But, of course, you know what a doctor's orders are, and how they must be obeyed."
"Of course I know; now don't you think for a moment of any petty little disappointments we girls may have. Why, they're nothing compared to your trouble and Mr. Perry's, and the boys'."
Patty telephoned Philip Van Reypen, and that young man was simply aghast.
"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that you people are to be held up there for weeks? It's preposterous! It's criminal!"
"Don't talk like that, Philip. We can't help it. The Perrys can't help it. And it isn't a national catastrophe. Honestly, a few weeks' rest will do me good."
"Yes! With that Cameron man dangling at your heels!"
"Well, Philip, if I have to stay here, you ought to be glad I have some one here to amuse me."
"I'm not! I'd rather you were there alone! Patty, I won't stand it! I'm coming up myself, to dig you out!"
"Don't talk foolishness! If you come up here, you'll have to stay! They don't let any one leave the house."
"All right, then, I'll stay! That wouldn't be half bad."
"Philip, behave yourself! Mrs. Perry has all the company she can take care of."
"I'll help her take care of her company. One of 'em, anyway!"
"I won't talk to you, if you're so silly. Now listen. You go ahead with your party to-night, and ask some other pretty girl to take my place."
"Take your place!" Philip's growl of disgust nearly broke the telephone.
"Yes," went on Patty, severely, "to take my place. And then, when we get let out, you could have another party for me. Don't you see, it will be a sort of celebration of my release from captivity."
"I tell you I won't stand it! I'll have the confounded party to-night,—because I'll HAVE to, but to-morrow I'm coming straight, bang, up to Eastchester!"
"Come if you like, but you won't be admitted to this house. And I think you're acting horrid, Philip. Instead of being sorry for me, you just scold."
"I'm not scolding YOU, Patty, but I won't have you shut up there with that Cameron!"
"And Kenneth."
"Harper's all right, but that Cameron boy is too fresh,—and I don't want you to encourage him."
"All right, Philip, I won't encourage him. Good-bye." Patty spoke in her sweetest tones, and hung up the receiver suddenly, leaving Mr. Van Reypen in a state of mind bordering on frenzy.
Then Patty called up Nan, and explained the whole situation to her.
"How awful!" said Nan, in deepest sympathy, "both for Mrs. Perry and for you."
"Yes, it is; but of course there's nothing to do but make the best of it. Ken is splendid. If it weren't for his strength and courage I don't know how I'd bear it. But he won't let me give way. So I'm going to be a heroine and all that sort of thing, a real little Casablanca. Honestly, Nan, I feel ashamed of myself to think of my little bothers,—when the boys have their business matters to consider, and Mrs. Perry is in such deep trouble. So I'm going to do my best to be cheerful and pleasant. They say we may be here two or three weeks or more."
"Good gracious, Patty!"
"Yes, I know,—it's all of that! Now, Nan, I mustn't keep this telephone, for they all want to use it. But I'll call you up to-night or to-morrow, for a longer talk. I wish you'd send me up some clothes. Pack a suitcase or a steamer trunk with some little house-dresses and tea-gowns and lingerie, and send it along to-morrow. Then I'll tell you later what else I want. Tell father all about it, and ask him to call me up this evening. Good-bye for now."
Patty hung up the receiver, and Marie took her turn next.
"How did your people take it?" asked Cameron, as Patty came slowly back to the hall fireside, where they had all been sitting when the dreadful news was told.
"I told my mother," said Patty, "but I didn't give her a chance to say much. She was appalled, of course, at the whole business, but she's going to send me some clothes, and get along without me for a few weeks,—although I can't help feeling 'they will miss me at home, they will miss me.'"
Patty sang the line in a high falsetto that made them all laugh.
"Mother's about crazy!" announced Marie, as she came back from telephoning. "Not that she minds my staying here, but she's sure I'll have the diphtheria!"
"No, you won't, Marie," said Kit, earnestly. "I asked the doctor particularly, and he said there wasn't the least danger that any of us would develop the disease."
"Then why do we have to stay here?" asked Marie.
"Because the house is quarantined. By order of the Board of Health. You may as well make up your mind to it, cousin, and take it philosophically, as Miss Fairfield does."
Kenneth telephoned to his office, and then Kit shut himself up in the library and telephoned for a long time.
When he returned, he said, with an evident effort at cheerfulness, "Now let's pretend that we're not kept here against our will, but that this is a jolly house party. If we were here for a month, on invitation, we'd expect to have a bang-up time."
"But this is so different," said Patty, dolefully. "A house party would mean all kinds of gaiety and fun. But it doesn't seem right to be gay, when Babette is dangerously ill."
"But she isn't dangerously ill," said Kit, earnestly. "It may prove a very light case. But you see the quarantine laws are just as strict for a very light case as for a desperate one. Now, I propose that we try to forget Babette for the present, and go in for a good time."
"But we can't do anything," said Marie; "we can't go to places or have any company, or see anybody or write any letters—"
"There, there, little girl," said her cousin, "don't make matters worse by complaining. Here are four most attractive young people, in a perfectly lovely house, with all the comforts of home; and if we don't have a good time, it's our own fault. What shall we do this afternoon?"
"Let's play bridge," said Patty; "that's quiet, and I don't feel like anything rackety-packety."
"Bridge is good enough for me," said Kenneth, manfully striving to shake off the gloom he felt. He was really very much concerned about some important business matters, but he said nothing of this to any one.
They sat down at the bridge table, but the game dragged. No one seemed interested, and they dealt the cards in silence.
Cameron tried to keep up a lively flow of conversation, and the others tried to respond to his efforts. But though they succeeded fairly well, after the third rubber, Patty declared she could not play any longer, and she was going to her room for a nap.
"Come on," said Marie, jumping up, "I'll go with you."
"Yes, do, girlies," said Cameron, kindly. "A little nap will do you good. Come down for tea, won't you?"
"I don't know," said Patty, doubtfully; "I think we'll have tea in our rooms, and not come down till dinner time."
"As you like," returned Kit; "if we four have to live together for weeks, it won't do to see TOO much of each other!"
"Then perhaps we won't come down to dinner, either," said Patty, with a momentary flash of her roguish nature.
"Oh, you MUST!" exclaimed Kenneth, who couldn't help taking things seriously. "You two girls are the only bright spots in this whole business!"
"Thank you," and Patty smiled at him, as she and Marie went away.
"Come into my room," said Patty, "and let's talk this thing over."
Soon the two girls, in kimonos, were sitting either side of the cheerful wood fire, discussing the outlook.
"It's worse for you than for me, Patty," said Marie, "for you have more social engagements, and all that sort of thing, than I do. And besides, these are my relatives. But for you, almost a stranger, to be held up here like this, it's just awful! I can't tell you how bad I feel about it."
"Now, Marie, let up on that sort of talk! It's no more your fault than it is mine, and the fact of the Perrys being your relatives doesn't make a scrap of difference. To be honest, the thing nearly floored me at first, for I never had anything like this happen to me before. But that's all the more reason why I should brace up to this first occasion,—and from now on, you won't hear another peep of discontent out of ME. If we have to stay here four weeks or eight weeks or twelve weeks, I'm going to behave myself like a desirable citizen. And I'm only sorry that I've acted horrid so far."
"You haven't acted horrid, Patty."
"Yes, I have; when we played bridge I sat around like an old wet blanket. Now I'll tell you what, Marie, let's plan something nice for this evening. Something that will cheer up Mrs. Perry, and incidentally ourselves. But isn't it strange how we can't make it seem like a house party? Really, you know, it IS one, and Babette isn't sick enough,—at least, not yet,—for us to be gloomy and mournful. And yet, for the life of me, I can't feel gay and festive. But I'm going to MAKE myself feel so, if it takes all summer! We've two awfully nice boys to entertain us, and you and I are good congenial chums. Mrs. Perry is a dear and the baby is an awful comfort. Now why, Marie, WHY can't we act just as if there wasn't any Babette? I mean, of course, unless she gets very much worse."
"It isn't our concern for Babette that makes the trouble," said Marie, slowly; "it's our disappointment at our own inconvenience, and being kept here against our will."
"You clever little thing! You've put your finger right on the truth. You're right! Our anxiety for Babette is real enough as far as it goes, but it's secondary. The primary cause of our gloom IS pure selfishness! and the amazing part is, that I never realised it until you showed me! Now I have always thought that the sin I abhorred most was selfishness, and here I am giving way to it at the first opportunity. Well, it's got to stop! Now, then, let's plan something real nice and pleasant for this evening, and have a good time."
"I don't think anything would be nicer than music," said Marie. "Lora has a violin, and Kit and I will play, and you can sing—"
"And we'll all sing choruses and things,—real jolly ones, and enter into it with some spirit."
"Yes; Lora loves to have people sing, and she'll enjoy that."
"And then other nights," Patty went on, bravely, "we'll get up some entertainment. Tableaux, you know, or theatricals."
"Yes, and we can play games and things. Now shall we go down to tea?"
"No," and Patty wagged her head, sagely; "it's perfectly true that we mustn't give those boys too much of our delightful society or they won't appreciate it! Let them wait for us till dinner time. We'll have our tea up here, and perhaps Mrs. Perry will be with us. Let the boys shift for themselves till dinner time, and then they'll be all the more glad to see us."
Nora brought the tea tray up to the girls, and with it a note.
"I thought they'd holler for us," said Patty, laughing as she read the note; "listen to this: 'Twin stars of light and joy, DO come down and illumine our dark and lonesome tea-table! We pine and languish without you! Oh, come QUICK, ere we fade away! Kit and Ken.' I thought they'd be lonesome," and Patty nodded her head, with a satisfied air. "Now you know, Marie, if we've got to take care of these boys for weeks, we must make them walk a chalk line."
"Yes, of course, Patty; shall we go down, or send a note?"
"Neither," returned Patty, with a toss of her head. "Nora, please say to the young gentlemen that the young ladies will be down at dinner time."
"Yes, Miss Fairfield," said Nora, departing.
A few moments later they heard the wailing strains of a violin, and listening at their door, heard Kit playing, with exaggerated effect. "Come into the Garden, Maud."
"Good gracious, Marie!" exclaimed Patty, popping her head in at Marie's door, just before dinner time, "we haven't any clothes! Are you going to wear your party frock or the dress you wore up here?"
"'Deed I'm not going to put on my best gown for a little home dinner!The dresses we wore up here are all right. They're nice and pretty."
"But they're day frocks. I DO like to dress up for dinner."
"I'll help you out," said Lora Perry, who was present. "I've two or three trunkfuls of old-fashioned clothes, that ought to fit you girls fairly well. They're not antiques, you know; they're some I had before I was married,—but they're pretty. Go in the trunk room and rummage."
So the two girls went to inspect the frocks.
"Why, they're beautiful," said Patty; "I really think they're a lot prettier than the things we wear to-day. Oh, look at these big sleeves."
"Yes, leg o' mutton they used to call them."
"I know, but they're more the size of a side of beef! But these are street dresses. Where are the evening things?"
"Here are some," said Marie, opening another trunk.
"Oh, how lovely!" And Patty pounced on a white organdy, made with a full skirt and three narrow, lace-edged frills. There were wide, full petticoats to go with it, and Patty declared that was her costume. Marie found a dimity, of a Dresden-flowered pattern, with black velvet bows, which she appropriated, and they flew back to their rooms in triumph.
The white dress proved very becoming to Patty, and the square-cut neck of the bodice suited the lines of her pretty throat and shoulders. She wore a broad sash of blue ribbon and a knot of blue ribbon in her hair. Marie's dress was equally pretty, and they laughed heartily at the full, flaring skirts, so different from the narrow ones of their own wardrobe.
They went downstairs together, and found waiting for them two bored-looking young men, in immaculate evening clothes.
"Good-evening," said Patty, dropping a little curtsy; "SO glad to meet you."
"Thought you'd never come," returned Kit. "What are you, anyway?Masquerading as old-fashioned girls?"
"Are they old-fashioned togs?" said Kenneth. "I thought they looked different, but I didn't know what ailed them."
"They're perfectly beautiful evening frocks," Patty declared, "and you're not to make fun of them."
"Far be it from me to make fun of anything so charming," returnedCameron. "Come along, Captive Princess, dinner is waiting." He tuckedPatty's hand in his arm, and as they walked to the dining-room, hemurmured: "You really are a Captive Princess now, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am; and if you're my Knight, aren't you going to deliver me from durance vile?"
"Of course I am. I will be under your window at midnight with a rope ladder and a white palfrey."
"Well, if I'm awake I'll come down the ladder; but if not, don't expect me."
"But if you want to be rescued, you must take the opportunity when it offers."
"Oh, I'm not so sure I want to be rescued. I'm ready now to make the best of things and I'm planning to have a real good time while we stay here."
"Nice little Captive Princess! Nice little Princess Poppycheek! And amI included in these good times?"
"Yes, indeed. It will take the four of us; and Mrs. Perry, whenever we can get her, to have the good times I'm planning."
All through dinner time Patty was her own gay, merry self. Babette was not mentioned, nor the fact that they were staying in Eastchester, under compulsion, and it might have been just a happy party invited there for pleasure.
Mr. Perry's absence was, of course, painfully noticeable. But Patty knew that Mrs. Peny had telephoned him all about the case, and she made no comment. She was determined that she would not be responsible for any allusion to their trouble.
After dinner Patty informed them all that a musicale would take place. Everybody agreed to this, and all joined in singing gay choruses and glees. Patty sang solos, and Kit and Marie played duets. Then Patty sang to a violin obligato, and altogether the concert was a real success.
"We ought to go on the road," said Kit, as he laid down his violin at last. "I think as a musical troupe we'd be a screaming success. Now, who's for a little dance to wind up with?"
"Do dance," said Mrs. Perry; "I'll play for you."
"Just one, then," said Patty, "for this is a rest-cure, you know; and I'm going to bed very early. Six weeks in the country is going to do wonders for me."
Though four weeks had been the extreme possibility of their stay, Patty whimsically kept calling it six weeks or eight weeks, because, as she said, that made four weeks seem less.
Cameron turned to Patty, as his sister began to play, and in a moment they were dancing.
"If we dance every night for twelve weeks," said Patty, "we ought to do fairly well together."
"When I think of that, I'm entirely reconciled to staying here," returned Kit. "Poppycheek, you are a wonderful dancer! You're like a butterfly skimming over a cobweb!"
"I don't dance a bit better than you do. You're almost like a professional, except that you're more graceful than they are."
"DON'T, Princess! don't talk to me like that, or I shall faint away from sheer delight! But as we both are such miraculous steppers, we might give exhibitions or something."
"Yes, or teach, and make our everlasting fortune."
"Well, I think we won't do either. We'll just reserve our glorious genius for our own enjoyment. Just think of dancing with you every night, for goodness knows how long!" said Kit.
"But you won't."
"Won't? Why not?"
"Because before we've been here many days we shall quarrel. I know we will. Four people can't be shut up inside four walls without quarrelling sooner or later."
"Well, let's make it later. And, anyway, I'm so good-natured, you couldn't quarrel with me if you tried."
"I couldn't quarrel with you while I'm dancing with you, anyway. Butnow this dance is over and there's not to be another one to-night.Good-night, everybody. Come, Marie," and taking Marie by the hand,Patty led her upstairs at once.
"Oh, DON'T go!" cried the two young men, but Patty and Marie only leaned over the banisters, and called down laughing good-nights, and ran away to their rooms.
Next morning, Patty declared they must adhere to the policy of keeping more or less to themselves.
"I can put in a lovely morning," she said; "I shall visit the baby in the nursery and I shall read for awhile, and I'll have a long telephone conversation with Nan and perhaps some other people, and I'm not going downstairs till luncheon time. You do as you like, Marie."
Marie declared her intention of doing whatever Patty did, so the two girls spent a pleasant morning upstairs.
Mrs. Perry reported that Babette was no worse, and that the doctor had said nothing further than that.
At luncheon time, the girls went downstairs and were greeted with reproofs for being so late.
"We'll play with you this afternoon," said Patty, kindly, "but you can't expect to have our company all day. I've had a lovely time this morning; Baby Boo is an entertainment in herself."
"Why didn't you let me come up to the nursery?" said Kit. "ThatKiddy-baby loves me."
"She does, indeed," said Patty, serenely; "she's been asking for UncleKit all the morning."
"Cruel Princess!" said Cameron; "you're not a bit nice to your Knight!"
"I'll make up for it this afternoon," and Patty flashed him a glance that seemed greatly to cheer him.
After lunch they all went into the library. Patty threw herself into a big arm-chair.
"Now, I want to be entertained," she said; "I'm perfectly amiable and affable and good-natured, but I wish to be amused. Will you do it, my Knight?"
"Ay, Princess, that will I!" and Cameron made a flourishing and obsequious bow before her. "Would it amuse your Royal Highness to learn that you're going home this afternoon?"
"That is but a cruel jest," said Patty, "and so, not amusing. If it were the truth, it would be good hearing, indeed."
"But it IS the truth, fair lady." Cameron looked at his watch. "In about an hour, the speedy motor will convey us all back to the busy mart and to our homes."
"What do you mean?" cried Patty, starting up; for she saw that it was not a mere jest.
"May I make a speech?" and Cameron took the middle of the floor, while his hearers sat in breathless silence.
Mrs. Perry had a twinkle in her eye, Kenneth looked hopeful, but the girls' faces expressed only blank wonder.
"To begin with," said Mr. Cameron, in a cool, even voice, "we're not quarantined, and never have been. To proceed, Babette has not the diphtheria, and never has had. In a word, and I trust I shall not be flayed alive,—this whole affair is a practical joke, which I have had the honour to perpetrate on Miss Patricia Fairfield, and for which I claim the payment of a wager made by the fair lady herself!"
Patty's blue eyes stared at him. At first, a furious wave of anger swept over her, and then her sense of justice made her realise that she had no right to be angry. It took her a few moments to realise the whole situation, and then she began to laugh.
She jumped up and went to Cameron, and with her little fist she pounded his broad shoulder.
"I—THINK—YOU'RE—PERFECTLY—HORRID!!" she exclaimed, emphasising each word by a pound on his shoulders.
Then she stood back with dignity. "How DARE you do such a thing?" she cried, stamping her foot at him.
"There, there, little Princess,—little Captive Princess,—don't take it so hard! Don't let your joy at your escape be marred by your chagrin at having been caught!"
"Do you mean to say, Cameron," said Kenneth, rather sternly, "that you trumped up this quarantine business, and it's all a fake?"
"Just exactly that," said Cameron, calmly, and looking Ken steadily in the eye.
"You've made me a lot of trouble, old man," and Kenneth's voice was regretful rather than reproachful.
"Oh, not so much," said Cameron, airily. "I took the liberty of telephoning your office after you did yesterday, and told them that it was probable you'd be back there this afternoon."
Kenneth stared at him speechlessly, stupefied by this exhibition of nerve.
"Did you know all about it, Lora?" demanded Marie, turning to Mrs.Perry.
"Yes," said that lady, between spasms of laughter. "I didn't want to do it, but Kit just made me! You see, Babette did have an awful sore throat, and we did call a nurse, but the doctor said, that while it might turn toward diphtheria, there was small danger of it. And, this morning, he said even that danger had passed. Truly, girls, I didn't consent willingly, but Kit coaxed me into it. Of course, I telephoned Dick the whole story, and he stayed in town last night, but he's coming home this afternoon. You're not angry, are you, Patty?"
"I don't know whether I am or not. I'm a little bewildered as yet. But I think, in fairness, I shall have to admit it was a most successful practical joke,—as such jokes go."
"And it fulfilled all your conditions?" asked Cameron, eagerly.
"I'm not sure of that. We agreed that it must be clever and not unkind. It was certainly clever, but wasn't it a little unkind to cause trouble to so many people? Mrs. Homer, for instance?"
"No!" exclaimed Kit, hastily. "I telephoned last evening to auntie, and told her that there was probability that the quarantine would be lifted to-day. I telephoned the same thing to Mrs. Fairfield, but I told both ladies not to mention that to you girls, as I didn't want to raise false hopes. Oh, I looked out for every point, and you're not angry with me, are you, Princess?"
He was so wheedlesome and so boyish in his enjoyment of the joke, that Patty hadn't the heart to scold him, nor was she sure she had any reason to do so.
"I admit it," she said, "you certainly did play a practical joke on me successfully, though I didn't think you could. You have won the wager, and I shall of course pay my debt. But just now, I'm interested in the fact that we're going home. And yet," she added, turning to her hostess, "isn't it funny? Now that we CAN go, I don't want to go! Now it seems like a house party again."
Patty beamed around on them all, and seemed a different girl from thePatty of the last twenty-four hours.
"You were a brick!" said Kenneth, "through it all. I know how you suffered, but you bravely forgot yourself in trying to make it pleasant for the others."
"Nonsense! I acted like a pig! A horrid, round, fat pig! But, truly, it was the most different sensation to be quarantined here or to be visiting here. I wouldn't believe, if I hadn't tried it, what a difference there is! Oh, it's just lovely here, now!" and Patty executed a little fancy dance, singing a merry little song to it.
"Well, I'll tell you how to get even," said Mrs. Perry; "all of you come up here again soon, for a little visit, and leave Kit at home! Then I guess he'll be sorry."
At this, Kit emitted a wail of grief and anguish, and then the girls ran away to pack their things for the homeward trip.
Within the hour, they had started for New York. Patty had entirely forgiven Cameron, and was ready to enjoy the memory of the affair as a good joke upon herself.
"I don't approve of practical jokes," she said, by way of summing up. "I never did, and I don't now. But I know that I brought it on myself by making that foolish bet, and it has taught me a lesson never to do such a thing again. And I forgive you, Mr. Kit Cameron, only on condition that you give me your promise never to play a joke on me again. I admit that you CAN do it, but I ask that you WON'T do it."
"I promise, Princess," said Cameron. "Henceforward, there shall be no jokes between us,—of course, I mean practical jokes. But you will make good your wager?"
"Certainly; I always pay my just debts."
"May I come and collect the debt this evening?"
"No, that's too soon; come to-morrow night, if you like. This evening I devote to a reunion with my family."
"Nobody else?"
"Possibly somebody else,—somebody who was defrauded by your precious joke." And then a sudden light dawned upon Patty. "WAS your quarantine idea worked up in order to keep me away from New York last night?"
"Partly," said Cameron, honestly; "I didn't see any other way to cut out Van Reypen, and it fitted in with my whole plan, so why not?"
"It wasn't very nice of you."
"All's fair in love and war," and Cameron laughed so gaily, that Patty concluded it was wiser to drop the subject.
"Ithink it was awfully hard for poor Mr. Van Reypen to lose Patty from the party, because of your old joke!" exclaimed Marie.
"I don't mind that part of it," said Kenneth; "he might as well have a little corner of the joke, as the rest of us. But if I've lost a five thousand dollar deal on this, I'll sue you for damages, Cameron."
"Sue ahead," said the irrepressible Kit; "I've danced, and I'm willing to pay the piper."
Kenneth and Marie were left at their homes, and the car went on toPatty's house.
"May I come in?" said Cameron, as they reached it.
"No, indeed!" said Patty, and then she added, "I don't know—yes—perhaps you'd better. If father storms about this thing, I think you ought to be there and face the music."
"I think so, too," said Cameron, with alacrity; "I'd rather be there, and help my little Princess weather the storm."
They found Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield both at home, and they created an immense surprise by suddenly appearing before them.
"Why, Patty Fairfield!" cried Nan, "you DEAR child!" She wrapped Patty in her embrace as if welcoming one long lost. Nor was Mr. Fairfield less fervent in his demonstrations of welcome.
They shook Cameron warmly by the hand, and Nan rang for tea and said: "Tell us all about it! How did you get out? Was it a false alarm? Wasn't it diphtheria? Oh, Mr. Cameron, you relieved us so greatly last night, when you told us it might be a mistaken diagnosis! What is the matter with you two? What are you giggling about?"
And then the whole story came out. Cameron and Patty both talked at once, Cameron making a clean breast of the matter, and assuming all the blame, while Patty made excuses for him, and offered conciliatory explanations.
Nan went off in peals of laughter and declared it was the best joke she had ever heard.
But Mr. Fairfield hesitated as to his verdict. He asked many questions, to which he received straightforward answers.
At last, he said: "It was a prank, and I cannot say I think it was an admirable performance. But young folks will be young folks, and I trust I'm not so old and grouty as to frown on innocent fun. To my mind, this came perilously near NOT being entirely innocent, but I'm not going to split hairs about it. I don't care for such jokes myself, but I must admit, Cameron, you played it pretty cleverly. And you certainly did your share toward lessening any anxieties that might have been caused to other people. So there's my hand on it, boy, but if you'll take an older man's advice, put away these childish pranks as you take on the dignity of years."
"Thank you, Mr. Fairfield," said Cameron, "you make me feel almost ashamed of myself; but, truly, sir, I am addicted to jokes. I can't seem to help it!"
The handsome face was so waggish and full of sheer, joyous fun, that they all laughed and the matter was amicably settled.
"But I want my picture," Cameron said, as he rose to go.
"And you shall have it," said Patty, running out of the room.
She returned with a cabinet photograph, wrapped in a bit of tissue paper.
"Please appreciate it," she said, demurely, "for never before have I given my photograph to a young man. They say it is an excellent likeness of me."
Cameron removed the paper, and saw a picture of Patty taken at the age of two years.
It was a lovely baby picture, with merry eyes and smiling lips.
The quick-witted young man betrayed none of the disappointment he felt, and only said, "It is indeed a striking likeness! I never saw a better photograph! Thank you, a thousand times."
Then, amid the general laughter that ensued, Cameron went away.
The Fairfields discussed the whole matter, and Patty finally summed up the consensus of opinion, by saying: "Well, I don't care! It was an awfully good joke, and he's an awfully nice boy!"