CHAPTER XVA PLEASANT SATURDAY
At half-past five Mrs. Farrington sent the girls home in her carriage. The four who lived farthest were sent first and this left the two Hart girls and Patty to wait for the second trip.
They had returned to the Farrington house and were waiting in the library. Roger was there, and also two of Elise’s younger sisters. Patty was glad to see more of the Farrington family and chatted pleasantly with the little girls. But before she went away Roger found an opportunity to speak to her again.
“I say, you know,” he began, “I don’t know just how to express it, but I want to thank you for the way you talked to me. It wasn’t so much what you said, but that brave, plucky kind of talk does brace a fellow up wonderfully and I’m no end obliged to you.”
“You’re more than welcome, I’m sure,” said Patty, smiling; “but I didn’t say anything worth while. I wish I could really help you, but if you’ll just look on the bright side, you know you can help yourself a whole lot.”
“You help other poor little boys in hospitals,” said Roger; “you go to see Tommy Skelling.”
“Well, I can’t go to see you,” said Patty, laughing; “but I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll make a scrap-book for you, or a peanut doll, whichever you’d rather have.”
“I think I’ll take the scrap-book,” said Roger, with the air of one making an important decision. “You see I might be tempted to eat up the peanut doll.”
“That’s so; well, I’ll promise to make you a nice little scrap-book and send it to you next week. And I hope you’ll get along all right, and, honestly, I think you will.”
“I think so, too,” said Roger, cheerfully; and then the carriage returned and Patty went home.
That evening she told her father all about the Farringtons.
“It was so funny, papa,” she said, “to be visiting in one of those grand millionaire houses. Why, it’s like those that are pictured in the magazines, you know. And I thought that those people were always ostentatious and purse-proud and generally snippy to us poorer classes. But the Farringtons aren’t that way a bit. They’re refined and gentle and awfully kind. They have some queer ways, and somehow they seem a little discontented—not entirely happy, you know—but very pleasant and sweet to us girls. But aren’t Elise’s parents good to her to give her all that pleasure? The Casino, I mean.”
“The Casino is truly a splendid thing,” said Mr. Fairfield, “but do you think it necessarily shows that Mr. and Mrs. Farrington are more fond of their children than other people are?”
Patty thought a while, quite seriously; then she said: “I believe I see what you mean. You mean that Mr. Farrington is fond of his children, just as other fathers are; but that he happens to have money enough to give them bigger things. Because I know, Papa Fairfield, that if you had millions of dollars, you’d be plenty fond enough of me to give me a dozen Casinos, wouldn’t you?”
“Two dozen, if you wanted them, Puss, and if I could afford them. Yes, that’s what I mean, Patty, and it’s the old question of proportion. From what I know in a general way of Mr. Farrington and from what you tell me of their home life, I believe they have a good sense of proportion and are consequently people who are pleasant to know. But, my child, you must look out for your own sense of proportion. Remember Elise is a rich girl and lives in luxury, but you are not; and while we are in fairly comfortable circumstances, I want you to realise the difference and not feel envious of her, or discontented because you can’t live as she does.”
“Indeed I don’t, papa; I’m not quite such a goose as that, as you ought to know by this time. But I do like to visit there and I enjoy the lovely house and the beautiful pictures and things.”
“That’s all right, Patty girl, if you like Elise, too. But I don’t want you to cultivate anybody just for the sake of their beautiful home and pleasant entertainment.”
“I do like Elise, papa, very much; she’s a peculiar girl and I don’t think I quite understand her yet. But there’s a good deal to her and the more I see of her, the better I like her. She has invited me to lunch there on Saturday, and afterwards go to a matinée with her. The French governess will take us, and Mrs. Farrington told Elise she might ask me. May I go, papa?”
“Why, yes, child, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t. I want you to have all the good times that it’s right for a little girl to have. What is the matinée?”
“I forget the name of it, but it’s one of those ‘Humpty Dumpty’ sort of shows, with fairies and wonderful scenes. Elise says it was brought over from London, and it’s something like what they call a Christmas pantomime over there.”
“That’s all right, Chicken; you may go, and I hope you’ll have a beautiful time. And then some day you must invite Elise here to luncheon and I’ll take you both to a show.”
“Oh, papa, that will be lovely! How good you are to me. I haven’t seen Mr. Farrington yet, but I’m sure he isn’t a quarter as handsome as you are, if he is twice as rich.”
“He’s probably a hundred times as rich,” said Mr. Fairfield, laughing, “and twice as handsome.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Patty, smiling at her father, “and Nan wouldn’t, either.”
“I don’t believe she would. Between you two flatterers I run a fair chance of being completely spoiled.”
“When shall I see Nan?” asked Patty; “isn’t she coming to New York this winter?”
“Yes, after the holidays she and Mrs. Allen are coming to town for a month or so.”
“Lovely! where will they be? At The Wilberforce?”
“No, they will stay at a hotel farther uptown, where Mrs. Allen’s sister lives.”
“I’ll be awfully glad to see Nan again; and the girls will all like her, too, I’m sure. Papa, do you know, I think I have a very lovely lot of friends, counting you, and Nan, and Grandma, and all the Grigs.”
“And Kenneth?”
“Oh, yes; if you count boys, Kenneth and Clifford Morse and now Roger Farrington. He’s an awfully nice boy, papa.”
“Yes, I think so, Puss, from what you told me about him; and I’m sorry for the poor chap. You must make a first-class scrap-book for him, Patty; make it real interesting, you know; with pictures that a boy would like and really funny jokes and little stories. And some evening when Hepworth is up here we’ll get him to make some funny sketches for it and design a cover.”
“Gay!” cried Patty, “that’s the very thing! Mr. Hepworth’s comic sketches are too funny for anything. And, papa, he’s another good friend, isn’t he? I forgot him. Don’t you think I’m particularly blessed in my friends, papa?”
“I think you are a blessed little girl and have a happy and contented disposition. And you’ll find out in the long run that that is better than wealth or high social position.”
On Saturday Patty went to Elise’s for luncheon. The Farrington carriage came for her and a maid was sent to accompany her.
Although without a shade of envy in her mind, Patty thoroughly enjoyed the ride in the luxurious carriage, with a smart and imposing coachman and footman and the trim little French maid beside her.
“I’m afraid,” she thought to herself, “that I have a love of luxury; but papa says if I’m not envious it won’t do any harm; and I’m sure I’m not.”
When they reached the Farringtons’ Elise took Patty at once to her own room. Patty was not surprised to find that this was the prettiest bedroom she had ever seen, and she fairly revelled in the beautiful furnishings and decorations.
“Oh, this room is all right,” said Elise, carelessly; “but if you want to see a really remarkable room, just step out here.”
As she spoke, Elise opened the door out to what Patty supposed was a sort of balcony or enclosed veranda at the back of the house. But it was not exactly that; it was, as Elise expressed it, “a glass room.” It was an extension of the house, and the sides and roof were entirely of glass. A clever arrangement of Japanese screens adjusted the light as desired.
“You see,” explained Elise, “I’m a sort of sun-worshipper. I never can get sunlight enough in the city, so I planned this room all myself and father had it built for me. There is an extension of the house below it and they only had to put up a sort of frame or skeleton room, and then enclose it with glass. So here, you see, I have plenty of light and I just revel in it. I call it my studio, because I paint a little; but I sit here more to read, or to chum with my friends, or just to loaf and do nothing.”
“I love sunlight, too,” exclaimed Patty, “and I think this room is wonderful. I used to have a pretty little enclosed balcony, at my aunt’s in Vernondale; but of course it wasn’t like this.”
The furniture in Elise’s studio was almost entirely of gilded wicker-work, and gilt-framed mirrors added to the general glittering effect. On the whole, Patty thought she preferred her balcony at Aunt Alice’s, but this room was very novel and interesting and far better adapted for winter weather.
“Of course there’s no way to heat it,” said Elise, “for I wasn’t going to have the glass walls spoiled with old pipes and radiators. But the sun usually warms it sufficiently, or I can leave the doors open from my bedroom.”
“How do you like the Oliphant?” asked Patty as the girls settled down for an intimate chat.
“Oh, I like it all right; I think the school is as good as any and Miss Oliphant seems very nice, though really I haven’t seen much of her. I like the girls fairly well, but the Grigs seem to be the nicest ones of the whole school.”
“Oh, you think that because you know them better than the others. Isn’t Hilda a dear?”
“Yes, I suppose so; but somehow, I don’t get on with her quite as well as with the others. I always seem to rub her the wrong way, though I never mean to.”
“That’s because you both want to rule,” said Patty, laughing; “has it never struck you, Elise, that you’re very fond of having things your own way?”
“Yes,” returned Elise, tranquilly, “I know quite well what you mean. It’s my nature to boss others.”
“Yes, that’s just it; and it’s Hilda’s nature, too.”
“And it’s your nature, too.”
“Yes, I think it is. But I don’t care so much about it as you two girls, and I’m more willing to give in.”
“You’re better natured—that’s the truth. And that’s one reason why I like you best of all the schoolgirls. And I hope you like me; do you?”
“Of course I do, or I shouldn’t be here now.”
“I don’t believe you would. But there are some girls, and you must excuse my saying this, who just like me, or pretend to like me, because I’m one of ‘the rich Farringtons.’ I know that sounds horrid, but I think you understand. It’s so ridiculous that the mere accident of having more money than some other people should make people think us desirable acquaintances.”
“I think I understand what you mean,” said Patty, smiling at Elise’s earnestness, “but don’t you bother about me. I like you because I think you’re the kind of a girl I like; and I don’t care a speck more for you because your father’s a millionaire. But, to be truly honest, aside from your own charming self, I do like to see all these lovely things you have in your home; and I like to play in your Casino and I like to ride in your carriage.”
“So do I,” said Elise; “I enjoy it all. But if it were all taken away from me to-morrow, I wouldn’t mind so very much. Do you know, I’ve always thought I should rather enjoy it if I had to earn my own living.”
“Well, you are a queer girl, and I hope you won’t be able to realise your wish very soon; for, if you’ll excuse my saying it, I don’t believe youcouldearn your own living.”
“I don’t know whether I could or not; but it would be so exciting to try.”
“Well, it’s an excitement that you ought to be thankful not to have at present.”
Then the girls went down to luncheon, and after that to the matinée. The time passed like a happy dream, and when Patty was again set down at her own home, she felt more than ever glad that she had such delightful friends. She spent the evening giving her father and Grandma a detailed account of her experiences, and succeeded in making them almost as enthusiastic as herself.
CHAPTER XVIA CAPABLE COOK
The next Saturday morning the Grigs met at Hilda’s, and after the merry meeting was over Clementine begged Patty to stop in at her house for a few moments on her way home.
“I’d ask you to stay to luncheon,” said Clementine, as they went through the hall, “but mamma is giving a luncheon party to-day, and I can’t have anything to eat myself until after her guests have gone.”
“Oh, I must go home anyway,” said Patty; “Grandma is expecting me.”
“See how pretty the table looks,” said Clementine, as the girls passed by the open door of the dining-room.
“Beautiful!” exclaimed Patty, as she paused to look at the daintily appointed table, with its shining glass and silver, its decorations and pretty name cards. “Your mother knows just how to arrange a table, doesn’t she? How many are coming?”
“Eight; that is, there will be eight with mamma. Of course I never go to the table when she has formal company. I can have something to eat in the butler’s pantry, or I can wait until the luncheon is over and then go in the dining-room. Yes, the table will look lovely after the flowers are on and all the last touches.”
The two girls went on up to the play-room and were soon engrossed in lively chat about their own affairs.
Suddenly Mrs. Morse appeared in the door-way.
“Oh, Clementine,” she exclaimed, with an air of the greatest consternation, “I don’t knowwhatI am to do! Cook has scalded her hands fearfully; she upset a kettle of boiling water and the burns were so bad I had to send her straight to the hospital. She’s just gone and it’s after half-past twelve now and all those people coming to luncheon at half-past one. Nothing is cooked, nothing is ready and I’m at my wits’ end.”
“Can’t Jane cook?”
“No, she’s only a waitress; and besides, I need her in the dining-room. I can’t think of anything but for you to run right down to Pacetti’s and ask them to send me a capable, first-class cook at once. I’d telephone, but I’m afraid they’d send some inexperienced person, so I think it better for you to go. Make them understand the necessity for haste; but, dear me, they’re so slow, anyway, that I doubt if a cook would reach here before half-past one. And there is so much to be done. I never was in such an unfortunate situation!”
Mrs. Morse looked the picture of despair, and indeed it was not surprising that she should. But while she had been talking to Clementine, Patty had been doing some quick thinking.
“Mrs. Morse,” she said, “if you will trust me, I will cook your luncheon for you. I can do it perfectly well and I will engage to have everything ready at half-past one, if I can go right to work.”
“My dear child, you’re crazy. Everything is all prepared to be cooked, but it is by no means a plain every-day meal. There are quail to be broiled, lobster Newburg to be prepared, salad dressing, soup, coffee, and no end of things to be looked after, besides a most elaborate dessert from the confectioner’s which has to be properly arranged. So you see, though I appreciate your kind offer of help, it is outside the possibilities.”
Patty’s eyes danced as she heard this list of the fancy dishes in which her soul delighted.
“Please let me do it, Mrs. Morse,” she begged; “I know how to do everything you’ve mentioned, and with Clementine to help me I’ll send up the dishes exactly as they should be.”
“But I don’t know a thing about cooking,” exclaimed Clementine, in dismay.
“I don’t want you to help me cook; I’ll do that. I just want you to help me beat eggs or chop parsley or things like that. You must promise to obey my orders strictly and quickly; then there’ll be no trouble of any kind. Truly, Mrs. Morse, I can do it and do it right.”
Patty’s air of assurance convinced Mrs. Morse, and though it seemed absurd, the poor lady was so anxious to believe in this apparent miracle that she consented.
“Why, Patty,” she said, “if you reallycando it, it would be a perfect godsend to me to have you.”
“Indeed I can,” said Patty, who was already turning up the sleeves of her shirt-waist by way of preparation. “Just give me a big apron and wait one minute while I telephone to Grandma not to expect me home to luncheon, and then show me the way to the kitchen.”
When they reached the kitchen Patty was delighted to see how beautifully everything was prepared for cooking. The quail were already on the broiler, the bread cut for toast, the ingredients for the salad dressing measured. The dishes were piled in order and the cooking utensils laid ready to hand.
“Why, it will be no trouble at all!” she exclaimed; “your cook must be a genius to have everything so systematically prepared.”
“Are you quite sure you know how?” said Mrs. Morse, once more, looking doubtfully at the uncooked viands.
“Oh, yes, indeed!” exclaimed Patty, blithely; “it’s twice as easy as I thought it was going to be. But I must have full sway, and no interference of any sort. Now you run along, good lady, and put on your pretty gown, and don’t give another thought to your food. But please send the waitress to me, as we must understand each other.”
Mrs. Morse looked at Patty with a sort of awe, as if she had suddenly discovered a genius in one whom she had hitherto thought of as a mere child. Then she went away to dress, feeling that somehow things would come out all right.
Patty was in her element. Not only because she dearly loved to cook and thoroughly understood the concoction of fancy dishes, but more because she was so delighted to have an opportunity to help Mrs. Morse. Clementine’s mother was one of her ideal women, and Patty admired her exceedingly. Moreover, she had been very kind to Patty and the grateful girl was happy in the thought of being a real help to her good friend.
When Jane came to the kitchen Patty explained the situation to her and in a few clear straightforward orders made it impossible that any mistake should occur between the cooking and the serving. Patty unconsciously assumed an air of dignity, which struck Clementine as intensely comical, but which impressed Jane as the demeanour of a genius.
“Now,” said Patty, when Jane had returned to the dining-room, “I’ll give you fair warning, Clementine, that I shall be pretty cross while I’m doing this cooking. You know crossness is the prerogative of a cook. So don’t mind me, but just help all you can by keeping quiet and doing as I tell you. I’m sorry to seem dictatorial and horrid, but really it’s the only way to make your mother’s luncheon a success.”
And then Patty became entirely absorbed in her work. She took a rapid survey of everything, summarized what she had to do, looked up some forgotten points in a recipe book and moved around so deftly and capably that Clementine just sat and stared at her.
She put thebouillonon to heat, also a great kettle of lard; she moulded the croquettes and put the French peas on the stove.
“Now,” she said to Clementine, “have you an ice crusher?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Clementine, helplessly; “what is it like?”
Patty laughed; “I’ll find it,” she said, and after a short search she did. Then she set Clementine to crushing ice for the oysters, a task which that young woman accomplished successfully and with great pride in her own achievement.
“All right,” said Patty, with an abstracted air; “now toast these rounds of bread, while you can have the fire; and then put them in the oven to keep hot.”
This performance was not so successful, for when Clementine showed her plate of toast it was a collection of burnt crisps and underdone, spongy bread.
“For goodness’ sake!” exclaimed Patty, “can’t you toast better than that? They won’t do at all. Cut some more bread and hurry up about it!”
“You said you’d be cross,” murmured Clementine, as she cut more bread; “but you didn’t say you’d snap my head off like a raging tiger.”
Both girls laughed, but Patty toasted the bread herself, as she wasn’t willing to take any more chances in that direction.
But the real excitement began when the luncheon hour actually arrived.
Though not exactly nervous, Patty’s mind was strung to a certain tension which can only be appreciated by those who know the sensations of anamateurcook preparing a formal meal.
Precisely at half-past one Patty placed on the dumb-waiter eight plates of grape-fruit, the appearance of which caused Clementine to clasp her hands in speechless admiration. Each golden hemisphere nestled in a bed of clear, cracked ice, and was marvellously decorated with crimson cherries and glossy, green orange leaves.
After this the various courses followed one another in what seemed to the girls maddeningly rapid succession.
Clementine soon discovered that she could do only the simplest things, but her quick wit enabled her to help in other ways, by getting the dishes ready and handing Patty such things as she wanted.
It was a thrilling hour, but Patty’s spirits rose as one course after another turned out the very acme of perfection. The croquettes were the loveliest golden brown, the quail broiled to a turn, the lobster hot in its paper cases and the salad a dream of cold, crisp beauty. At last they reached the dessert. This was a complicated affair with various adjuncts in the way of sauces and whipped cream. The main part was frozen and was packed in a large tub of ice and salt. Clementine volunteered to get this out, and as Patty was busy, she let her do it.
But alas, the inexperienced girl opened the pudding-mould before taking it from the freezer, the salt water rushed in, and in a moment the delicious confection was totally uneatable.
Patty grasped the situation, Clementine fully expected she would be cross, now if ever; but, as Patty afterward explained, the occasion was too critical for that.
“The dessert is spoiled!” she said, in an awe-stricken whisper. “We must make another!”
“What out of?” asked Clementine, in the same hushed tone.
“I don’t know; what have you in the house?”
“Bread!” exclaimed Clementine, with a sudden inspiration from the loaf on the table.
“Ridiculous! there must be something else! Have you any stale cake?”
“I don’t know. Yes, wait a minute, there’s plenty of fruit-cake; but it’s locked up in one of the pantry cupboards.”
“Where’s the key? Quick!”
“Why, I don’t know; I suppose it’s in mamma’s desk.”
“Run and get it!” and Patty fairly glared at Clementine. “Fly! and don’t be gone more than half a minute!”
Poor Clementine, bewildered by the awful emergency which she had herself brought about, flew for the key, and luckily found it at once.
She returned with a huge fruit-cake, and in a second Patty’s anxious face broke into smiles.
“The country is safe!” she cried, dancing round the kitchen; “Fate cannot harm us now, nor salt water either.”
“I don’t believe mamma will like just fruit-cake for dessert,” said Clementine, dubiously.
“Huh!” said Patty, tossing her head in the air; “watch the magician! But first, have you any rather large-sized wine-glasses? Tall, you know, with slender stems.”
“Yes,” said Clementine, already disappearing in quest of them.
When she returned Patty had eight discs of cake, which she had cut from slices, and placing one in each glass, she put on each a spoonful of the sauce that had been intended for the unfortunate frozen pudding. This she topped with a shapely mound of whipped cream, on which she daintily placed candied cherries.
The desserts were ready in ample time, and after sending up the coffee Patty drew a long sigh of relief.
Then the two hungry girls sat down in the kitchen to eat their own luncheon, for which there was an ample supply of the good things left, and to talk over the exciting experience.
“You’re a wonder, Patty,” said Clementine; “I had no idea you could do things like that.”
“Oh, I’ve been a housekeeper in my day, you know,” said Patty; “and it was only after lots of failures that I learned to do those things right.”
Later on, Mrs. Morse undertook to express her gratitude to the little girl who had rescued her from so much trouble and mortification. But the good lady’s delight was too great for words, and she promised that the time would yet come when she would reward Patty in some appropriate way.
“I don’t want any reward,” said Patty, looking lovingly at her friend, “except to know that I helped you when nobody else could.”
“You certainly did that,” said Mrs. Morse.
CHAPTER XVIILORRAINE’S ENDEAVOUR
Patty’s sunny disposition and invariable good humour exerted a beneficial influence on Lorraine, though the effects were slow and gradual. But the girl herself was trying to be more optimistic in her general attitude toward life, and to a degree she was succeeding.
But one afternoon she came up to Patty’s apartment to sit with her for a while, and the expression of her face was quite as dark and gloomy as of yore.
Patty noticed this at once, but did not remark it; instead, she began chatting in a merry vein, hoping by this means to cheer up her dismal caller. But it was of no avail, for Lorraine evidently had a trouble of some sort on her mind.
At last she exclaimed, in a stormy way, “I justhateElise Farrington!”
“Oho,” thought Patty to herself, “so that’s the trouble, is it?”
But aloud she only said: “Why do you hate her? She doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes she does. She just snubs me right and left, and she doesn’t invite me to her Casino, or anything.”
“Now look here, Lorraine, you are unjust and unfair. Elise doesn’t snub you, or if she does, it’s because you don’t give her a chance to be nice to you. You’re my friend, but Elise is my friend, too, and I want fair play all around. I’ve seen you with Elise Farrington, and you snub her worse than she does you; and I don’t wonder she doesn’t invite you to see her!”
Patty didn’t often scold Lorraine as hard as this, but her sense of justice was aroused, and she determined to give it full play for once.
Lorraine began to cry, but Patty knew they were not tears of repentance, so she went on:
“It’s perfectly silly, Lorraine, the way you act. Here you might just as well belong to the Grigs, and have lots of good times; but just because youpreferto consider yourself snubbed at every tack and turn, when nobody means anything of the sort at all, of course you can’t belong to a club whose only object is to be merry and gay.”
“I don’t want to belong to your old Grigs! I think they’re silly, and I hate ’em all!”
“Youdowant to belong, and youdon’tthink they’re silly! Now look here, Lorraine, I’m just about at the end of my patience. I’ve done everything I could for you, to make you more like the other girls, and though you’re nicer in some ways than you used to be, yet you’re so foolishly sensitive that you make yourself a lot of trouble that I can’t help. I don’t mind telling you, now that we’re on the subject, that the girls are all ready to take you in as a member of the Grigs, if you’ll be nice and pleasant. But we don’t want any disagreeable members, or any members who insist on thinking themselves snubbed when nobody had any such intention.”
Lorraine stopped crying and looked at Patty with a peculiar expression.
“Do you really mean,” she said, “that you’d take me into the Grigs if I were not so bad-tempered?”
“Well, since you choose to put it that way, that’s just about what I do mean,” said Patty, politely ignoring the fact that Lorraine had declared she didn’t want to be a Grig.
“Well, then Iwillbe better-natured, and stop being so hateful to the girls. Just make me a Grig and I’ll show you.”
“No, Lorraine, that won’t do; you’ve got to prove yourself first. Now, I’ll tell you what—you be real nice to Elise and make her like you, or rather,lether like you, and then there’ll be no trouble about getting you into the society.”
“All right,” said Lorraine, hopefully, “but what can I do? Elise won’t speak to me now.”
“Oh, pshaw! yes, she will. I’ll guarantee that she’ll meet you half-way. Now here’s a plan; you must do something like this. Get your mother to let you invite Elise to come to see you some afternoon, and then invite the Harts and me, too, and have a real jolly afternoon. They’ll all come, and then if you’re nice and pleasant, as you know perfectly well how to be, the girls can’t help liking you. Oh, Lorraine, you’resucha goose! It’s a great deal easier to go through the world happy and smiling than to mope along, glum and cross-grained.”
“It is for you, Patty, because you’re born happy, and you can’t help staying so. But I’m different.”
“Well then un-different yourself as soon as you can. It’s silly—that’s what it is—it’s worse than silly—it’swickednot to be happy and gay. I’ve fooled with you long enough, and now I’m going tomakeyou behave yourself! Laugh now, laugh at once!”
Patty’s gaiety was infectious, and Lorraine laughed because she couldn’t help it. Then they fell to making plans for the little afternoon party, and Lorraine’s spirits rose until there was nothing to choose between the merriment of the two girls.
“And I’ll tell you what,” said Patty; “we’re making a scrap-book for Roger Farrington; he’s in the hospital, you know. And if you will have some funny pictures or stories ready to put in it, you needn’t worry any further about Elise’s liking you. She’s the most grateful girl for little things I ever saw.”
“Oh, I can do that,” said Lorraine; “I’d love to.”
Before Lorraine invited the girls to visit her, Patty had talked with each one and made them promise to accept the invitation, and do all that they could to help along the good cause, which, as she explained, was a truly Griggish one.
So the four girls went to Lorraine’s one afternoon, all in a merry mood. The little party was a great success, for Lorraine at her best was a charming hostess, and her mother was very kind and hospitable.
Each girl brought some contribution for Roger’s scrap-book, and Patty was secretly delighted when she found that Lorraine’s donation was quite the jolliest of all.
Lorraine was clever with her pencil, and with her needle, and she had designed some funny little football players by cutting pictures of football celebrities from the papers. These she had dressed up in bits of real material, had made the footballs of real leather, and made tiny silk flags in college colours.
Elise was delighted beyond all measure at the clever little figures, and when Lorraine, a little bashfully, offered a poem she had written to go with them, the girls all declared she was a genius. It was a humorous poem, with a football refrain, and Elise said that she was sure Roger would commit it to memory, and quote it on every possible occasion.
Happily the girls went to work, cutting and pasting, drawing and sketching, writing and sewing, on the various pages until the scrap-book became a marvellous work of art.
Patty asked them to leave one or two pages blank for Mr. Hepworth’s funny sketches, and promised too, that he would decorate the cover.
A few days later, Mr. Hepworth spent the evening with the Fairfields, and willingly agreed to add his share to the book.
He filled a couple of pages with drawings funny enough to make a whole hospital laugh, and then adorned the cover with a conventional design of football players and Grigs, surrounding a patient-looking patient in a hospital cot.
While Mr. Hepworth was sketching, Patty related with glee how much Lorraine had helped with the book, and how really amiable and pleasant the girl had begun to be. As Mr. Hepworth was a frequent visitor at the Fairfields’, he knew a good deal about Lorraine, and was much interested.
“If Lorraine is really trying to live The Merry Life,” said Mr. Fairfield, “she ought to be aided and encouraged in every possible way. Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Patty. Next Saturday afternoon I’ll take you and Lorraine to the circus. We’ll take Grandma along, because the circus is one of her favourite forms of amusement, and we’ll take Hepworth, as a reward for this truly beautiful art work he’s accomplishing this evening. Now, we’ll invite one more favourite friend and you may select anyone you like.”
“Oh, papa, let’s ask Kenneth. He’s working awfully hard just now, and he’d enjoy the fun so much.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hepworth, cordially, as he looked up from his drawing, “ask young Harper—he’s always an addition to any party.”
“I’m delighted to go,” said Grandma. “I’ve thought about it ever since they put up the big posters. I certainly do enjoy a circus.”
“Your tastes are certainly frisky, Grandma,” said Mr. Fairfield. “Now, for a lady of your dignified appearance an oratorio or a nice lecture on psychology would seem more fitting.”
“When you invite me to those, I may go also,” said Grandma, gaily; “but next Saturday afternoon I consider myself engaged for the circus. You’ll have a box, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Fairfield, “we’ll have anything that’ll add to your pleasure; not omitting pop-corn and pink lemonade, if they’re to be had.”
“Oh, papa!” cried Patty, “this kind of a circus doesn’t have those things. You’re thinking of a country circus. The circus in Madison Square Garden isn’t like that.”
“Well, at any rate,” said Mr. Hepworth, “I hope it has all the traditional features in the way of clowns, and freaks, and acrobats, and other trained animals.”
“Yes, they have all of those,” said Grandma, eagerly, “for I saw them on the posters.”
They all laughed at this, and declared it was more fun to take Grandma to the circus than to take a child.
Both Lorraine and Kenneth accepted the invitation with pleasure, and Kenneth volunteered to make Lorraine his especial charge, and if the fun of the circus flagged, to amuse her with some ready-made fun of his own.
Saturday was a beautiful, bright day, and Mr. Fairfield promised to come home to luncheon, in order that they might all start together, in ample time for the performance.
About eleven o’clock a card was brought up to Patty by the hall boy.
“Miss Rachel Daggett,” she read in dismayed tones. “Grandma! she has come to stay a few days! She said she would, you know, the last time we were in Vernondale, and now she’s here. Oh, I wish she had chosen any other day! She wouldn’t let me set the time, but said she would come whenever the mood struck her.”
“Well, my dear, you can’t help it. Send word for her to come up, and make the best of it.”
“But, Grandma, what about the circus? She won’t go with us—I can’t imagine Miss Daggett at a circus—and somebody will have to stay home with her. I’d just as lief stay myself as to have you or papa stay, and of course we can’t leave her alone.”
“Perhaps she’ll want to lie down and rest after her journey,” suggested Grandma.
“Not she! Miss Daggettneverlies down to rest. I can’t imagine it! No, I think we’ll have to give up the whole trip. Perhaps papa can exchange the box for some other date.”
By this time the visitor was at the door, and Patty and Grandma greeted her pleasantly.
Miss Daggett had been their next-door neighbour in Vernondale, and Patty was really fond of the queer old lady, but she only wished she had chosen some other day to visit them, or had at least let them know beforehand.
“I told you I’d come when the mood took me,” said Miss Daggett, as she removed her antiquated bonnet.
All of Miss Daggett’s apparel was what Patty called ancient and honourable. Her gown and cloak were of the richest material, but made in fashions of many years ago. Although a woman of wealth, Miss Daggett was subject to whims, one of which was to wear out the dresses she had before buying any new ones. As this whim had followed another whim of lavish extravagance, the dresses in question were of rich velvets and brocades which did not wear out rapidly. The result was that Miss Daggett went about, looking as if she had stepped out of an old picture.
Patty was quite accustomed to her old-fashioned garb, but suddenly realised that in the hotel dining-room it would be rather conspicuous.
But this thought didn’t bother her much, for she knew it was something she couldn’t help, and Miss Daggett had the dignified air of a thorough gentlewoman, notwithstanding her erratic costume.
“I’ve come to stay three days,” she announced in the abrupt way peculiar to her; “I shall go home Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock. Let me look at you, Patty. Why, I declare, you look just as you always did. I was afraid I’d find you tricked out in all sorts of gew-gaws and disporting yourself like a grown-up young lady.”
“Oh no, I’m still a little girl, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, “and I’m just as fond of fun and frolic as ever.”
CHAPTER XVIIITHE CIRCUS PARTY
Patty made that last remark by way of introducing the subject of the circus, for her only hope was that by some miraculous whim Miss Daggett would consent to go with them. Their party numbered only six, and Patty knew that the box would hold eight, so there was room enough if Miss Daggett would go. But as Patty looked at her guest’s stern, angular face, she didn’t see anything that led her to feel very hopeful.
“We had expected, Miss Daggett,” she said, “to go to the circus this afternoon. Would you care to go with us?”
“To the circus! for the land’s sake, no! I’m surprised that you would think of going, or that your father would let you go. The circus, indeed!”
“Why, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, laughing, in spite of her disappointment, at Miss Daggett’s shocked expression, “papa’s going to take us, and Grandma is going, too—that is, we were—but of course, if you don’t care to go——”
“Care to go? of course I don’t care to go! All their elephants and wild tigers couldn’t drag me there. And of course I expect you to stay at home with me. You can go to the circus any time you choose, if youdochoose, though I think it a shocking thing to do; but Rachel Daggett doesn’t visit in the city very often, and when she does she expects to have proper respect paid to her.”
Patty’s spirits sank. She had hoped that even if Miss Daggett wouldn’t go herself, she would insist that the rest of the party should keep their engagement.
“We had invited a few other friends to go,” she said, feeling that Miss Daggett’s attitude justified her in this further statement.
“You did, hey? Well, I suppose you can telephone to them that you’re not going. Of course, if I’m an unwelcome guest——”
“Oh no, Miss Daggett, not that; of course you’re not unwelcome.”
“Well, then, act as if you were glad to see me, and don’t be everlastingly whining because you can’t go to your old circus.”
Although rudely put, Patty knew in her own heart the principle of Miss Daggett’s speech was that of true hospitality, and she decided to act upon it. Moreover, she felt sure that when her father came home he would fix matters somehow. How, she didn’t know, but she knew it would be all right.
When Mr. Fairfield arrived he greeted the unexpected guest in his own cordial, pleasant way.
“You’re just in time,” he said, grasping the situation at once; “we’re all going to the circus this afternoon, and we’ll be delighted to have you accompany us. We have two extra seats, so there’s plenty of room.”
“Your daughter has already given me the same invitation,” said Miss Daggett, “and as I said to her, I repeat to you: nothing would induce me to go to a circus. I think it entirely undignified and improper, and I am surprised that you should suggest such a thing.”
“Oh, come now, Miss Daggett, you can’t mean that. Circuses are all right, especially the one in Madison Square Garden. Why, they have the finest acrobats and trapeze performers in the world; and a score of trained elephants. Then there is the lovely lady who whizzes through space in an automobile, and flies around a great circular track upside down.”
“What!” exclaimed Miss Daggett, interested in spite of herself.
“Yes, and two men who ride down hill on bicycles, and at the end jump off into the air, still riding, and jump on again, passing each other as they go.”
“I’d like to see that,” said Miss Daggett, thrilled by Mr. Fairfield’s description, “if it was in a private house; but I wouldn’t go to the circus to see it!”
“Have you never been to a circus?” inquired Mr. Fairfield.
“That’s neither here nor there,” said Miss Daggett, drawing herself up stiffly, and leaving the question unanswered.
“Well, I’m sorry you won’t go,” said Mr. Fairfield, urbanely, “for in that case the party must be given up. And your nephew, Kenneth, will be so disappointed.”
This was diplomacy on Mr. Fairfield’s part, for he well knew how Miss Daggett idolised young Harper, and he hoped, as a last resort, that this argument might move her.
“Kenneth!” almost shrieked the old lady, “ishegoing?Youdidn’t tell mehewas going;” and she glared reprovingly at Patty.
“I told you we had invited some friends,” said Patty, “and he is among them.”
“Kenneth going!” again exclaimed Miss Daggett; “why then,of courseI’ll go. All their elephants and wild tigers couldn’t keep me at home if Kenneth is going. Come, let us have luncheon, so we can all be ready in time, and not keep Kenneth waiting. Dear boy, when will he be here?”
“He’s coming at quarter of two,” said Patty, “and then we’re all going down together. Mr. Hepworth is going, and my friend Lorraine Hamilton.”
But Miss Daggett seemed to care little who the other guests were, since her nephew was to be of the party. Patty was quite accustomed to the old lady’s eccentricities, and, moreover, she was so delighted that the circus party was safe after all, that she humoured Miss Daggett in every possible way. She talked to her about Kenneth, and told her of the lad’s good progress in college; and adroitly referred to the fact that they had all thought his steady application to study deserved a reward in the diversions of the circus.
Miss Daggett quite agreed to this, and now that the fact of their going was established, she admitted that she herself was anxious to see the wonders of which Mr. Fairfield had spoken.
During luncheon-time Patty was summoned to the telephone.
To her surprise the speaker proved to be none other than Roger Farrington.
He said he had been discharged from the hospital the night before, and was again at home, although his arm was still in a sling. He wanted to know if he might come down that afternoon and thank Patty in person for the scrap-book, and for the merry messages she had sent to him by Elise.
Patty did some quick thinking. Then she said:
“Why, you see, Roger, we’re all going to the circus this afternoon; but we have an extra seat, and if you’ll go with us, we’ll be awfully glad to have you.”
“Go!” exclaimed Roger, “I should rather say I would!”
“Well, if you go,” said Patty, imbued with a sudden spirit of mischief, “you must consider yourself the special escort of a friend who is visiting me. Her name is Miss Daggett, and I want her to have a real good time.”
“Trust me,” said Roger; “I’ll give her the time of her life. May I call for her? Are we all to go together?”
“Yes,” said Patty, “papa has engaged an omnibus, and we’re going to leave here at quarter before two. Be sure to be on time.”
“Oh, I’ll be there; give my regards to Miss Daggett, and expect me soon.”
Patty said good-bye, and then returned to the table, where she told them all what she had done. Mr. Fairfield expressed pleasure at having another in their party, and said that Roger certainly ought to have some fun after his weary stay in the hospital.
“And I asked him to be your especial escort, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, a little uncertain as to how the lady would take this announcement.
“Now, that’s downright nice of you,” said Miss Daggett, beaming with pleasure in a most unexpected way. But all her ways were unexpected, and Patty wondered what Roger would think of her friend.
When Kenneth Harper came he was surprised to find his aunt there, and still more surprised to learn that she was going with them to the circus. Miss Daggett was delighted to see him, and Kenneth was also glad to see her, for between this aunt and nephew there existed a great deal of affection, and Miss Daggett was always less blunt and a little more docile when Kenneth was around.
Shortly before the time appointed Roger appeared. Owing to the fact that his arm was in a sling, it was with some difficulty that he carried two parcels and managed his hat.
“You come like the Greeks bearing gifts,” said Kenneth, as he hastened to relieve Roger of his burdens.
“Those are for Miss Daggett,” said Roger, “the lady I am to escort to the circus.”
Kenneth tried not to show his amazement, and Patty cast a roguish glance at Roger as she presented him to Miss Daggett.
Roger confessed afterwards that at that moment anyone could easily have knocked him down with a feather; for without thinking much about it, he had assumed that Patty’s friend was a girl of her own age, and he had gallantly brought her some candy and some violets.
But Miss Daggett herself proved quite equal to the situation. Without a trace of self-consciousness or embarrassment, she accepted the parcels from Roger in the most gracious way, and began to untie them with all the ingenuous delight of a young girl.
“Let me help you,” said Mr. Fairfield, as he cut the strings of the boxes.
The violets were a huge bunch from the shop of a fashionable florist, and the generous-sized box of confections were of the very best procurable.
Miss Daggett was so frankly delighted that Roger, too, rose to his part, and declared that she must wear the violets that afternoon. Although their appearance on the rich, old-fashioned mantilla was decidedly incongruous, yet Miss Daggett’s dignity was such that it quite saved the effect from being ridiculous. Roger immediately took a fancy to the queer old lady, and determined to give Patty a little mild teasing by devoting himself to her “friend” all the afternoon. But Patty wasn’t teased a bit; she was greatly pleased—indeed, only less so than Miss Daggett herself.
Kenneth had promised to make Lorraine his especial care, and as Mr. Fairfield had Grandma Elliott in his charge, Mr. Hepworth fell to Patty’s share. For the first time Patty realised what an entertaining man the artist could be. That afternoon he seemed as merry as a boy, and told droll tales, or made facetious comments on the performance, until Patty was convulsed with laughter. No less gay were Roger Farrington and his companion. Being innately courteous and gentlemanly, he deemed it his duty to entertain Miss Daggett to the very best of his ability; and spurred on by the joke of the whole affair, he exerted himself especially to be amusing. Amid so many novel experiences Miss Daggett seemed to forget her usual carping style of conversation, and grew amiable and even gay.
Kenneth, too, was doing his part well. He had promised to keep Lorraine in a light-hearted mood, and he had no trouble in doing so. For the girl met him half-way, having herself determined that she would follow Patty’s oft-repeated advice. Grandma was in her element, and Mr. Fairfield was elated that his little party had turned out so successful.
“Do you know,” said Mr. Hepworth, “that you are a veritable Dispenser of Happiness?”
“What do you mean?” asked Patty, with her frank smile.
“Why, I mean that you’re not only happy yourself, but you give happiness to all who are near you. Consciously, I mean; you purposely arranged that Lorraine should have a good time, and,” here his eyes twinkled, “you made a somewhat similar plan for Miss Daggett. You asked both those boys from a real desire to give them pleasure. Mrs. Elliott is enjoying every moment of her good time, and—I’m happy, too.”
“It’s nice of you to be so complimentary,” said Patty, “but it isn’t fair for me to take it all to myself. It’s papa’s party, and you’d think me anything but a general benefactor if you knew how cross I was when Miss Daggett came in unexpectedly this morning.”
“And aside from your intentional dispensing of happiness,” went on Hepworth, ignoring her confession of ill-temper, “your unconscious influence is that of pure joy. You radiate happiness, and no one can be near you without feeling its influence. I did not intend, Patty, to say this quite so baldly, but it is not meant as idle compliment or flattery, only as an honest recognition of your charm.”
Patty accepted what Mr. Hepworth said quite simply, and looked at him with clear, unembarrassed eyes.
“Thank you, Mr. Hepworth,” she said; “I know you would not say those things unless you meant them. I’m truly glad that you think my influence, be it ever so small, is toward happiness. For I am always happy; somehow I can’t help it, and I want the whole world to be so, too.”
“It is that dear wish in your heart that makes you what you are,” said Mr. Hepworth, and then, with what seemed to be a sudden effort, he stopped their serious conversation and exclaimed: “Willyou look at that clown. Isn’t he quite the funniest one you ever saw?”
Patty laughed at the ridiculous fellow, and then the wonders of the aerial bicyclists, and the even more marvellousautobolide, claimed their attention.
But long after she had forgotten the amusing scenes of the circus Patty remembered what Mr. Hepworth had said.