CHAPTER VIII

A RIDE TOGETHER

Adele was duly surprised and pleased to learn that Mona and Roger were engaged and declared they should have an announcement dinner that very night.

“Let’s make it a real party,” said Patty, “with a dance afterward.”

“As if we didn’t dance every night,” said Elise, laughing. “But it will seem more like a party if we put on our best frocks.”

“And decorate the table,” added Daisy.

So the girls put their heads together to see what they could do in the way of effective and appropriate decoration.

“We might give her a shower,” suggested Marie, after Mona had left the room.

“What sort of a shower? What could we buy and where could we buy it?”

“There’s that little bazaar down in the village, but there’s nothing decent there,” said Patty.

“No,” agreed Marie, “and we don’t want to give Mona cheap little gimcracks.”

“Well, we can’t have a shower, that’s out of the question,” declared Daisy.

“But I _want_ to have a shower,” persisted Patty; “it will be no fun at all to give her a shower after we get back to New York. I’m going to invent some way to give it to her here.”

“But there isn’t any way——”

“Yes, there is, Daisy; now listen. Suppose we each give her some pretty trinket or thing of our own.”

“Huh! Worn out old things!”

“No, of course not! But I’ve a little pearl ring that Mona likes awfully well, and I care a lot for it myself, too. So I think it would be a nice gift, just because I _do_ like it myself.”

“That’s a good idea, Patty,” said Adele; “I have a white and silver scarf that Mona just raves over. It’s Egyptian, you know, and of some value. I think she’d like these things that we have personally used, quite as well as new things. You know Mona can buy anything she wants, but this personal note would touch her, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Daisy said, thoughtfully. “I’ve an exquisite lace handkerchief I’d like to give her. It’s one that was given to my mother by a French Princess.”

“Oh, Daisy, you don’t want to give that up.”

“Yes, I do. I’m fond of Mona, and I’m glad for her to have it.”

“I’ve a lovely fan,” Elise said, “do you think she’d care for it? It’s one of Duvelleroi’s,—signed.”

“Oh, she’d love it! We’ll have a wonderful shower. What have you, Marie?”

“I can’t think of anything worth while. Oh, yes, I have a centrepiece I’m embroidering for Christmas. It’s a beauty, and I can finish it this afternoon, or, if I don’t get it quite done, I can give it to her unfinished and put in the last stitches tomorrow.”

“Capital!” and Patty smiled at the success of her “shower” plan. “What do you think, Chick?” she went on, as that individual, never very far from Patty’s side, sauntered in, “we’ve the loveliest scheme!” And she told him of the shower. “I suppose you boys can’t be in it, for Mona wouldn’t want a jack-knife or pair of sleeve-links. And men don’t shower engaged girls anyway.”

“No, I suppose not. But what’s the matter with us men showering old Farrington? I’ll bet he’d love to be showered.”

“Oh, do!” and Patty clapped her hands. “Just the thing! Give him funny gifts, will you, Chick?”

“Of course I will. And I’ll make the others come across, too.”

Soon after luncheon, Patty had a telephone call which proved to be from Maude Kent. She begged Patty to come over to the hotel where she was, at once.

“Oh, I can’t,” said Patty. “We’re getting up a party for Mona, she’s just gone and got herself engaged to Roger Farrington, and we’ve got to do something about it.”

“Well, you can come over for a short time. Truly, it’s most important. Chick will whiz you over in a motor, and you can be back in two or three hours. What time is the party?”

“Oh, not till dinner time.”

“Then come on. I want you terribly, and you’d want to come if you knew what for. I can’t tell you on the telephone, it’s a secret.”

Chick was passing, and Patty beckoned to him. “Will you chauff me over to see Maude?” she asked, as she still held the receiver.

“To the ends of the earth, if you’ve the slightest desire to go there, my lady fair.”

“Well, all right, Maude. I’ll come, but only for a few minutes.”

“When do we start, queen of my heart?” and Channing bowed before her.

“In a few minutes. I’ll scoot and dress, and you meet me here at three sharp.”

“Your word is my bond. I’ll be on deck.”

Patty flew to her room and rang for the treasure of a Sarah. The girl was rapidly becoming a deft ladies’-maid, and when Patty merely said, “Rose Crêpe, Sarah,” she took from the wardrobe the pretty afternoon gown of rose-coloured crêpe de chine, and went at once to get silk stockings and slippers to match, as well as the right hat, veil, and accessories.

On time, Patty stood again in the hall. Channing appeared, and at the same time Kit Cameron strolled in.

“Oh, Kit,” said Patty, “however _did_ you think of that crazy scheme of fortune telling?”

“My brain is full of nonsense, Patty, and sometimes it strikes out like that.”

“But about my fortune? Did you just make it all up out of the solid? Or was there any——”

“Car’s ready, Patty,” interrupted Channing. “Leave that investigation till we come back.”

“I don’t want to,” and Patty looked from one of the men to the other. “I want to hear about it now. I say, Kit, you drive me, instead of Chick, won’t you?”

“Oh, now, that isn’t fair!” and Channing looked decidedly annoyed. “You promised me, Patty——”

“No, I didn’t. I asked you. That’s quite different from promising. Now, don’t sulk, and I’ll give you an extra dance tonight.”

“Two?”

“Well, yes, two, then, you greedy boy. Now run away and play.”

“But is this all right?” said Kit, as he hesitated to take Channing’s place.

“It doesn’t seem so to me,” Chick retorted, “But what Miss Fairfield says, goes!”

He turned on his heel, very much out of sorts at Patty’s perverse ways, and as she saw the look on his face and the uncertainty on Kit’s countenance, Patty broke into a laugh.

“Where are you going, Patty?” said Farnsworth, coming out of the house.

“Over to Poland Spring House, if I can get anybody to drive me. These boys are both unwilling. You drive me, Little Billee?”

Farnsworth looked at her a moment, with the expression of one who can scarcely believe his own ears. Then, just as Kit began to exclaim in indignation Big Bill took his place beside her and started the car.

“What possessed your kind heart to give me this pleasure?” he said, and his voice was so gentle it took from the words all suggestion of sarcasm or satire.

“The others were so tiresome. I don’t think it’s such a favour to allow a man to drive a car for you. Do you?”

“It depends on the man and the one who grants the favour. To me this is a decided boon. Do you realise, little girl, I never get a word with you nowadays? You never allow it. You’re so wrapped up in Channing and Cameron, you’ve no eyes or ears for any one else.”

“Oh, Little Billee, what a taradiddle! But when people don’t believe what people say, people can’t expect people to——”

“Wait! So many people get me all mixed up! And I do believe you, always. If I doubted your word about that telephone, it was because I was misinformed. You see——”

“Yes, tell me how it was.”

Patty was thoroughly enjoying herself. She had Big Bill where she wanted him, apologising for his abominable disbelief in her veracity. “Tell me who told you stories about me.”

“Not stories, exactly. I wanted the long distance telephone that night, and when I went to the desk, the telephone clerk said you were using it, talking to a Mr. Van Reypen, and would I wait till you finished.”

“And of course you thought I called Phil, whereas he called me! All right, Billee Boy, you’re forguv.”

“And then, he called you again, last night. Is this a habit of his?”

“Oh, Billee, that’s just what I asked him. But how did you know he telephoned last night? Clerk again?”

“I was in the office, and as you weren’t home, and the New York call might have been from your father, I answered. It was Van Reypen, and as he wanted to know where you were, of course I told him. Patty, what _did_ he want? _Why_ does he telephone you every night?”

“Well, let me see what he did want. He telephoned last night, I believe, to apologise for telephoning the night before!”

“What nonsense!”

“Yes, he did! Don’t you disbelieve me again!”

“Of course, I won’t. All right, then, what did he say the first night, that he had to apologise for?”

“Oh, fiddlestrings, Billee, it was nothing of any consequence. I may as well tell you, though, he just wanted to be invited up here.”

“Oh, he _did_, did he?”

“Yes, he _did_, did he! And I told him,——”

“Yes, Patty, what did you tell him?”

Patty turned her pretty head, and smiled full in Farnsworth’s face. Her blue eyes were sparkling, her golden curls were tossed by the wind, her red lips wore a roguish expression, as she said, “I just told him I didn’t want him.”

“Patty! Did you really?”

“I sure did, Little Billee, but it wasn’t quite true.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, really, I _did_ want him,—a little oh, only a _very_ little,—but I knew _you_ didn’t and so I told him _I_ didn’t.”

“Patty! what a torment you are!”

Patty’s eyes opened wide. “Well, I like that! A torment! Because I headed him off for the simple reason that you don’t want him! If that torments you, I’ll telephone him tonight to come on!”

“There, there, Blue Eyes, take it easy. _I_ don’t want him, and _you_ don’t want him, and _we_ won’t have him! Now, let it go at that.”

Big Bill smiled down happily at the flower-face that at first looked up at him a little angrily, and then smiled back.

“And now, Peaches, the Van Reypen incident is closed. Next, will you kindly tell me why you went in so strong for the Kent lady’s concert?”

“Two reasons, Billee,” said Patty, calmly. “First, and I hope most, because I was sorry for her, and wanted to help her out in her trouble. And second,——”

“Well?”

“Oh, because I’m a silly, vain thing, and I wanted to sing in public, and have people think I was Madame Thingamajig, and I like to have my voice praised,—and I’m just a little idiot!”

“You certainly are.”

“Why, Wil-yum Farns-worth! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“Not half so ashamed as you ought to be.”

“It isn’t a crime to be vain of your accomplishments, and I owned up I was silly. Do you hate silly people?”

“Sometimes, not always. But look here, Patty, seriously, you don’t want to be intimate with Maude Kent. She may be a nice girl, all right, but she has been an actress, and that is not the sort of people for you to associate with.”

“I guess you don’t know her very well, Bill; she is a noble self-sacrificing spirit, and she devotes her life to earning a living for herself and her mother and sister. I never knew a more devoted daughter and sister, than she is, and I adore her.”

Farnsworth sighed. “I feared you’d fly off like that, Patty. You’re so susceptible and impressionistic. But you must know that she is not the sort of girl you’ve been accustomed to know.”

“So much the worse for the sort of girl I know, then. Idle, unoccupied creatures, thinking of nothing but the fleeting pleasures of the hour! Maude Kent is worth a dozen of them, when it comes to nobility of purpose and energy of attainment. What do you know about her, Bill, that _isn’t_ admirable?”

“Only that, Patty. That she has been on the vaudeville stage. I met her personally only two or three times, and I took little interest in her. But I hate to see you grow fond of her. Are you going to see her today?”

“I am. But you need not see her. You can wait for me in the hotel parlour. I’m sorry I brought you.”

“No, you’re not, you’re glad. And I’ll not wait in any parlour. I’m going with you all the way.”

As a matter of fact, Patty felt relieved, for she had no idea of what Maude wanted, and she feared it might be to sing again. This she had no intention of doing. Once was quite enough.

When they reached the hotel, they sent up their names, and Miss Kent came down. She received them in a small reception room, where they could be alone.

“You remember Mr. Farnsworth?” said Patty, after she had greeted Maude.

“Yes, indeed, very well. I’m so glad to see you again.”

Surely no one could criticise the gentle manner and soft voice, and Bill Farnsworth looked at her more kindly than he had intended to.

“And now, what’s it all about?” asked Patty, when they were seated. “For, Maude, I must not stay but a few minutes. It’s the night of the announcement party, and I’ve a lot to do for the affair.”

“Very well, I’ll tell you in a few words. Mr. Stengel, the manager, heard you sing here last night, and he wants an interview with you, with an idea of your going on the stage in light opera.”

“What!” and Patty looked amazed, while Farnsworth bit his lips to restrain what he wanted to say.

“Yes; he says you have a delightful voice, but more than that, you have charm and a decided ability to make good in the parts for which he should cast you.”

“Why, Maude, you must be crazy, to think for a minute that I’d consider such a proposition! I wouldn’t dream of it, and I couldn’t do it, anyway.”

“Yes, you could. And I knew you’d feel this way, at first, but after you think it over——”

“Miss Kent,” and Farnsworth’s tones were cold and incisive, “I know Miss Fairfield and her people quite well enough to speak with authority in this matter, and I assure you it is worse than useless for you to suggest such a thing.”

“I knew it _would_ strike you so at first, Mr. Farnsworth, and perhaps Patty’s parents also. But I feel sure that if it were properly put before them——”

“Miss Kent,” and Farnsworth rose, “there is no way of properly putting it before them. They would not even listen. And now I must ask you to excuse us. Come, Patty.”

“But, Bill,——”

“Come Patty, at once.”

“Must you obey him?” asked Miss Kent.

“She must,” said Farnsworth, sternly. “Come, Patty.”

“I must,” said Patty, and with a strange look in her eyes, she rose. “I’ll see you again about this, Maude,” she said.

“She’ll never see you again, about this, or anything else,” Farnsworth declared, and his face was set and his voice hard. “Good day, Miss Kent.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Farnsworth. _Au revoir_, Patty.”

The two started home in silence. Patty’s mind was full of conflicting emotions. The idea of going on the stage was so ridiculously unthinkable as to be of no importance, but the fact that she had been asked to do so filled her with a strange pride and satisfaction.

It was after a long time that Farnsworth said, gently, “Patty, you’re so _many_ kinds of a fool.”

“Yes, sir,” and Patty sighed, partly from relief that he wasn’t going to scold and partly because she agreed with him.

“Now you see why I didn’t want you to have anything to do with that Kent woman.”

“Well, I don’t see as she has done me any harm.”

“You don’t? Why, she has put that fool idea into your head. And you’ll let it simmer and stew there until you begin to think that maybe it _would_ be nice to go on the stage.”

“Oh, Billee, I wouldn’t do any such a thing!”

“No, not _now_, but after you mull over it, and especially if she ever gets hold of you again, which pray heaven, she never will.”

“Goodness me! Little Billee, how would I look on the stage? Why, I’d be lost among all the big girls they have nowadays.”

“You’d _look_ all right, that’s the worst of it. Now, see here, Patty, make me a solemn promise, will you? Not that you won’t go on the stage, but that if you ever _think_ of doing so, you’ll tell me first. Will you promise me that?”

And Patty promised.