Patty's Butterfly Days
It was not accomplished without some few difficulties, and much giggling, but by eight o'clock, Patty and Mona surveyed a most acceptable looking chaperon, due to their own handiwork. Susan, or Mrs. Hastings, as they called her, looked the picture of a kindly, dignified matron. Her grey hair was done in a simple, becoming fashion, and ornamented with a spray of silver tinsel leaves. The grey satin gown of Mrs. Allen's, which Patty had appropriated without compunction, fitted fairly well, and a fichu of old lace, prettily draped, concealed any deficiencies. Though possessing no elegance of manner, Susan had quiet ways, and being observant by nature, she remembered the demeanour of ladies she had worked for, and carried herself so well that Patty and Mona were satisfied as to her ability to carry out their purpose.
Patty provided Mrs. Hastings with a black feather fan, and gave her a quick lesson in the art of using it. The piece of white knitting work proved satisfactory on inspection, and after a few final injunctions, Patty pronounced the "chaperon" complete.
Then she called for Janet, and hastily proceeded to make her own toilette. She chose a white silk muslin, dotted with tiny pink rosebuds, and further ornamented with fluttering ends of pale pink ribbon. The frock was cut a little low at the throat, and had short sleeves, and very cool and sweet Patty looked in it. Her gold curls were piled high on her head, and kept there by a twist of pink ribbon. She wore no jewelry, and the simple attire was very becoming to the soft, babyish curves of her neck and dimpled arms.
Mona appeared in rose-coloured chiffon, richly embroidered. The gown, though beautiful of itself, was not appropriate for such a warm night; but Mona had not Patty's sense of harmony, and had added a heavy necklace and bracelets of wrought Roman gold.
"You'll melt in all that toggery!" said Patty, bluntly, and Mona sighed as she saw Patty's diaphanous frock. Then, led by Mrs. Hastings, they went down to the drawing-room. They put Susan through a few lessons in introductions, practised calling her "Aunt Rachel," and bolstered up her failing courage by telling her how well she looked.
The first guest to arrive was Jack Pennington. Being a graceful mannered boy he acknowledged his introduction to Mrs. Hastings with just the correct blending of deference and cordiality. "Isn't it warm?" he said, and as this required no answer save, "It is, indeed," Susan acquitted herself creditably, and even refrained from saying "indade." Then the others came, and being a merry crowd of young people, they merely paused for a word or two with the elderly stranger, before turning away to their own interests. And, if by chance, one or two showed a tendency to linger and converse with her, Patty and Mona were at hand to take up the burden of the conversation.
After all had arrived, Patty conducted Susan to a pleasant seat near an open window, provided her with her knitting and a book, and gave her a whispered permission to doze a little if she wished to.
So far as the girls could see, not one of the guests had suspected that Mrs. Hastings was other than an aunt of Mona's, nor had they given her a second thought. To their minds a chaperon was a necessary piece of furniture, but of only a momentary interest. She must be greeted, and later, she must be bidden farewell, but no conversation with her between times was necessary.
The party was a pretty one. Usually, the Spring Beach people didn't care much to go to "Red Chimneys," for Mona was not a favourite. But Patty was, and, invited to meet her, every one accepted. And the large rooms, cooled by electric fans, and decorated with lovely flowers and softly shaded lights, looked somehow more attractive, now that Patty Fairfield's graceful figure was flitting through them.
After one of the dances, Patty drifted across the room and stood near Susan. That worthy was dutifully looking over her book, and occasionally glancing thoughtfully round the room.
"Keep it up, Susan!" whispered Patty. "You're a howling success! Everything's all right."
"Come for a stroll on the veranda, Patty," said Jack Pennington, coming up to her. "Mayn't I take her, Mrs. Hastings, if I'll be very careful of her?"
"Shure an' ye may, sir," said Susan, heartily, caught off her guard by this sudden request.
Jack Pennington stared at her, and Susan's eyes fell and her face turned red in deepest dismay lest she had disgraced her beloved Miss Patty. In a despairing effort to remedy her indiscretion she assumed a haughty tone and said, "You have my permission. Go with the young gentleman, Miss Patty." And with an air of having accomplished her duty successfully, Susan picked up her knitting.
Patty's twitching lips and flushed cheeks made quick-witted Jack Pennington suspect a joke somewhere, but he gravely offered his arm, and as they reached the broad veranda and walked toward a moonlighted corner of it, he said, "Interesting lady, that new aunt of Mona's, isn't she?"
"Very," said Patty, trying not to laugh.
"I always like that foreign accent," went on Jack; "is it,—er—French?"
"Well, no," opined Patty. "I don't think Mrs. Hastings IS French."
"Ah, German, then, perhaps. I've heard that particular accent before, but I can't just place it."
"I think it's sort of,—of Scotch, don't you?"
"Faith, an' I don't, thin! I'm afther thinkin' she's a daughter av ould Ireland, arrah."
Jack's imitation of Susan's brogue was so funny that Patty laughed outright.
"Perhaps the lady IS Irish," she said; "but she looks charming, and so well-dressed."
"That's so. She IS much better dressed than when I saw her last."
"Saw her last! What do you mean?"
"Well, of course I MAY be mistaken, but do you know, she looks like a—like a lady I saw once in the kitchen garden at 'The Pebbles.'"
"And pray what were you doing in that kitchen garden?"
"Well, I was helping Miller look after your motor one day, and I strolled around the house, back to the front veranda that way. And,"—Jack's voice sank to an impressive whisper,—"there in the midst of the cabbages and eggplants,—there stood Mrs. Hastings,—I'm SURE it was she,—in a calico gown and checked apron!"
"Oh, Jack!" and Patty burst into laughter. "She IS our cook! Don't give it away, will you?"
"Never! Never! But WHAT a joke! Does no one know it?"
"No one at all but Mona and myself. You see—" And then Patty told the whole story.
"Well, that's the best ever!" declared Jack as she finished. "Patty, you do beat all! No one else will guess, I'm sure,—and I'LL never tell. But it's most too good a joke to keep, now, isn't it?"
"But it's going to BE kept! Why, if some people knew of it, they'd drum me out of Spring Beach. And anyway, Jack, I wouldn't have done it, if Susan hadn't been such a dear respectable person herself."
"I'm sure she is, and to show I believe it, I'll take her out to supper."
"Gracious, goodness, Jack! I never thought of supper! Will she have to eat with us?"
"Of course she will! And, as I say, I'll take her out, so there'll be no danger of further discovery."
Patty giggled again. The idea of SUSAN being escorted out to the dining-room of "Red Chimneys"! And by Jack Pennington, the most aristocratic young man in their set!
"All right," she said. "But I must sit the other side of you. I want to keep my eye on her."
And so it came to pass that when supper was announced, Jack went up gallantly and offered his arm to the chaperon.
This seemed quite natural and proper to the other guests, and they paid little attention as Mrs. Hastings rose with dignity, and, with her escort, led the procession.
Susan was resolved to make up for her blunder, and she carried herself with an air of hauteur, and trailed the grey satin gown after her quite as if she were used to such.
"It is a beautiful home, is it not, Mrs. Hastings?" said Jack, by way of making conversation.
"It is, sir," returned Susan, careful of speech and accent, but unable to forget her deference. "Such airy rooms and fine, high ceilings."
Jack couldn't help admiring her aplomb, and he chatted away easily in an endeavour to put her at her ease.
"Will you sit here, Mrs. Hastings?" he said, offering her the seat at the head of the table, as became the chaperon of the party.
Susan hesitated, but catching Mona's nod of acquiescence, she sank gracefully into the armchair Jack held for her.
CHAPTER V
A DINNER PARTY
As Patty expressed it afterward, she felt as limp as a jelly-fish with the grippe when she saw Susan at the head of Mona's table! Mrs. Hastings herself seemed in no way appalled at the sparkling array of glass and silver, of lights and flowers, but she was secretly alarmed lest her ignorance of etiquette should lead her into blunders that might shame Miss Patty.
But Jack Pennington proved himself a trump. Without attracting attention, he touched or indicated which spoon or fork Mrs. Hastings should use. Or he gave her valuable advice regarding the viands.
"I say," he whispered, "you'd better duck the artichoke Hollandaise. You mightn't manage it just right. Or—well—take it, but don't attempt to eat it. You'd sure get into trouble."
Irish Susan had both quick wit and a warm heart, and she appreciated gratefully the young man's good-natured assistance, and adroitly followed his instructions. But Jack was a daring rogue, and the temptation to have a little fun was too strong to resist.
"Are you fond of motoring, Mrs. Hastings?" he asked, innocently, while Patty, on his other side, felt her heart beat madly and her cheeks grow red.
But Susan wasn't caught napping this time.
"Oh, I like it," she said, "but I'm not fair crazy about it, like some." She smiled benignly at Patty, and the few guests who overheard the remarks thought nothing of it.
But naughty Jack went on.
"Oh, then you know of Miss Fairfield's fad. I didn't know you knew her so well. I thought you had just arrived here. Have you been to Spring Beach before?"
Susan looked at Jack with twinkling eyes. She well knew he was saying these things to tease Patty, and she looked kindly at the embarrassed girl as she replied:
"Oh, my niece, Mona, has told me so much about her friend, Miss Fairfield, that I feel as if I had known her a long time."
Patty gasped. Surely Susan could take care of herself, after that astounding speech!
Jack chuckled silently, and as the game promised rare sport, he kept on.
"Are you fond of bridge, Mrs. Hastings?"
Susan looked at him. So far all had gone well, but she didn't know how long she could match his banter. So she favoured him with a deliberate gaze, and said, "Bridge, is it? I'm fond of the game, but I play only with expayrienced players,—so don't ask me."
"Ho! ho! Jack, that's a good one on you!" said Guy Martin, who sat within hearing. "You're right, Mrs. Hastings; he's no sort of a player, but I'm an expert. May I hope for a game with you some time?"
"We'll see about it, young sir," said Susan, with cold dignity, and then turned her attention to her plate.
In response to a desperate appeal from Patty, Jack stopped teasing, and made general conversation, which interested the young people, to the exclusion of Susan.
Then, supper over, he escorted the chaperon from the table, talking to her in low tones.
"I hope I didn't bother you," he said. "You see, I know all about it, and I think it's fine of you to help the girls out in this way."
"You helped me far more than you bothered me, sir," Susan replied with a grateful glance. "Will it soon be over now, sir?"
"Well, they'll have a few more dances, and probably they'll sing a little. They'll go home before midnight. But, I say, Mrs. Hastings, I won't let 'em trouble you. You sit in this cosy corner, and if you'll take my advice, you'll nod a bit now and then,—but don't go really to sleep. Then they'll let you alone."
Susan followed this good counsel, and holding her knitting carelessly in her lap, she sat quietly, now and then nodding, and opening her eyes with a slight start. The poor woman was really most uncomfortable, but Patty had ordered this performance and she would have done her best had the task been twice as hard.
"You were a villain to tease poor Susan so at the table," said Patty to Jack, as they sauntered on the veranda between dances.
"She came through with flying colours," he replied, laughing at the recollection.
"Yes, but it was mean of you to fluster the poor thing."
"Don't you know why I did it?"
"To tease me, I suppose," and Patty drew down the corners of her mouth and looked like a much injured damsel.
"Yes; but, incidentally, to see that pinky colour spread all over your cheeks. It makes you look like a wild rose."
"Does it?" said Patty, lightly. "And what do I look like at other times? A tame rose?"
"No; a primrose. Very prim, sometimes."
"I have to be very prim when I'm with you," and Patty glanced saucily from beneath her long lashes; "you're so inclined to—"
"To what?"
"To friskiness. I NEVER know what you're going to do next."
"Isn't it nicer to be surprised?"
"Well,—that depends. It is if they're nice surprises."
"Oh, mine always are! I'm going to surprise you a lot of times this summer. Are you to be here, at Mona's, all the rest of the season?"
"I shall be here two months, anyway."
"That's time enough for a heap of surprises. Just you wait! But,—I say,—I suppose—oh, pshaw, I know this sounds horrid, but I've got to say it. I suppose everything you're invited to, Mona must be also?"
Patty's eyes blazed at what she considered a very rude implication.
"Not necessarily," she said, coldly. "You are quite at liberty to invite whom you choose. Of course, I shall accept no invitations that do not include Mona."
"Quite right, my child, quite right! Just what I was thinking myself."
Patty knew he was only trying to make up for his rudeness, and she looked at him severely. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said.
"I am! Oh, I AM! deeply, darkly, desperately ashamed. But I've succeeded in making your cheeks turn that peculiar shade of brick-red again!"
"They aren't brick-red!"
"No? Well, a sort of crushed strawberry shading to magenta, then!"
Patty laughed, in spite of herself, and Jack smiled back at her.
"Am I forguv?" he asked, in a wheedling voice.
"On condition that you'll be particularly nice to Mona all summer. And it's not much to your credit that I have to ASK such a thing of you!"
"You're right, Patty," and Jack looked honestly penitent. "I'm a good-for-nothing brute! A boor without any manners at all! Not a manner to my name! But if you'll smile upon me, and let me,—er—surprise you once in a while, I'll,—oh, I'll just tie myself to Mona's apron strings!"
"Mona doesn't wear aprons!"
"No, I know it," returned Jack, coolly, and they both laughed.
But Patty knew she had already gained one friend for Mona, for heretofore, Jack Pennington had ignored the girl's existence.
"What are you doing to-morrow, Patty?" asked Dorothy Dennison, as she and Guy Martin came up to the corner where Patty and Jack were sitting. It was a pleasant nook, a sort of balcony built out from the main veranda, and draped with a few clustering vines. The veranda was lighted with Japanese lanterns, whose gayer glow was looked down upon by the silvery full moon.
"We're going to the Sayres' garden party,—Mona and I," said Patty.
"Oh, good gracious!" rejoined Dorothy. "I suppose Mona will have to be asked everywhere, now you're staying with her!"
"Not to YOUR parties, Dorothy, for I'm sure neither of us would care to come!"
It was rarely that Patty spoke crossly to any one, and still more rarely that she flung out such a bitter speech as that; but she was getting tired of combating the prevalent attitude of the young people toward Mona, and though she had determined to overcome it, she began to think it meant real warfare. Dorothy looked perfectly amazed. She had never heard gentle, merry Patty speak like that before.
Guy Martin looked uncomfortable, and Jack Pennington shook with laughter.
"Them cheeks is now a deep solferino colour," he observed, and Patty's flushed face had to break into smiles.
"Forgive me, Dorothy," she said; "I didn't mean what I said, and neither did you. Let's forget it."
Glad of this easy escape from a difficult situation, Dorothy broke into a merry stream of chatter about other things, and the quartette were soon laughing gaily.
"You managed that beautifully, Patty," said Jack, as a little later, they returned to the house for the last dance. "You showed fine tact."
"What! In speaking so rudely to Dorothy?"
"Well, in getting out of it so adroitly afterward. And she had her lesson. She won't slight Mona, I fancy. Look here, Patty. You're a brick, to stand up for that girl the way you do, and I want to tell you that I'll help you all I can."
"Oh, Jack, that's awfully good of you. Not but what I think you OUGHT to be kind and polite to her, but of course you haven't the same reason that I have. I'm her guest, and so I can't stand for any slight or unkindness to her."
"No, of course not. And there are lots of ways that I can—"
"That you can surprise Mona," interrupted Patty, laughing.
Jack smiled appreciation, and to prove it went straight to Mona and asked for the favour of the final dance. Mona was greatly elated, for handsome Jack Pennington had never asked her to dance before. She was not a good dancer, for she was heavy, physically, and self-conscious, mentally; but Jack was skilful, and guided her lightly across the shining floors.
"I'll see you to-morrow at the Sayres'," he said, as the dance ended.
"Yes," said Mona, smiling. "We're going to the garden fete. The Sayres have a house party, you know. I've always longed to have a house party."
"This would be a fine place for one," said Jack, glancing at the large and numerous rooms.
"Yes, it would. Do you suppose I COULD have one?"
"Easy as pie!" declared Jack. "Why don't you?"
"Perhaps I will, after Aunt Adelaide comes. This,—this chaperon to-night is only temporary, you know."
"Yes, I know," said Jack, but he said no more. The discovery of Susan was his secret with Patty, not with Mona. Then the young people prepared to depart, and Patty and Mona stood either side of Mrs. Hastings to assist her, if necessary, in receiving their good-nights.
Jack stood near, too, for he thought he might be of some slight help.
"Good-night, Mrs. Hastings," said Beatrice Sayre. "The girls are coming to my garden party to-morrow, and as my mother also expects guests, I'm sure she'd be glad if you would come."
Susan, much bewildered at being thus addressed, looked about her helplessly, and murmured uncertainly, "Thank you, Miss," when Jack interrupted by saying, "Such a pity, Bee, but Mrs. Hastings goes away to-morrow. Another aunt of Mona's is coming to play chaperon at 'Red Chimneys.'"
"Oh," said Beatrice, carelessly; "then this is good-bye as well as good-night, Mrs. Hastings. I've SO enjoyed meeting you."
These conventional phrases meant nothing on Beatrice's part, but it almost convulsed Patty to hear Susan thus addressed. However, she knew she must play the game a few moments longer, and she did so, watching the thoughtless young guests as they shook hands with the masquerading COOK!
Jack Pennington was the last to go. "I say," he whispered to Patty, "it's been a great success! I don't see how you ever had the nerve to try it, but it worked all right!" Then he went away, and Patty and Mona sank limply into chairs and shook with laughter. Susan instantly returned to her role of servant, and stood before Patty, as if waiting for further orders.
"You were fine, Susan, just fine," Patty said, still giggling as she looked at the satin clad figure.
"I did me best, Miss Patty. I made some shlips, sure, but I thried that hard, ye wuddent belave!" In her earnestness, Susan lapsed into her broadest brogue, and the girls laughed afresh to see the silver headdress wag above Susan's nodding head.
"You were all right, Susan," declared Mona. "Now you can trot off home as fast as you like, or you can stay here over night, as you prefer."
But Susan wanted to go, as her duty was done, so, changing back to her own costume, she went away, gladdened by Mona's generous douceur.
"And now for bed," said Patty, and the two girls started upstairs. But after getting into a kimono, Mona came tapping at Patty's door. She found that young person in a white negligee, luxuriously curled up among the cushions of a wide window seat, gazing idly out at the black ocean.
"Patty, you're a wonder!" her hostess remarked, with conviction. "Can you ALWAYS do EVERYTHING you undertake? But I know you can. I never saw any one like you!"
"No," said Patty, complacently. "They don't catch 'em like me very often. But, I say, Mona, wasn't Susan just a peach? Though if Jack Pennington hadn't helped, I don't know how she would have behaved at the supper table."
"Isn't he a nice young man, Patty?"
"Lovely. The flower of chivalry, and the glass of form, or whatever it is. But he's a waggish youth."
"Well, he's kind. Patty, I'm going to have a house party, and he's going to help me!"
"You DON'T say! My dear Mona, you ARE blossoming out! But you haven't asked MY permission yet."
"Oh, I know you'll agree to anything Jack Pennington favours."
"Sure, I will! But he seems to favour you, and I don't always agree with you!"
"Well, anyway, Patty, it will be perfectly lovely,—and we'll have a gorgeous time!"
"Where do I come in? Providing cooks for chaperons?"
"Nonsense! Aunt Adelaide will come to-morrow, and she'll do the chaperon act. Now, I'll tell you about the house party."
"Not to-night, Lady Gay. It's time for you to go beddy, and I, too, need my beauty sleep."
"You need nothing of the sort,—you're too beautiful as it is!"
"Oh, Mona,—Monissima! DON'T say those things to me! I'm but a weak-minded simpleton, and I MIGHT think you meant them, and grow conceited! Hie thee away, fair maiden, and hie pretty swiftly, too. And call me not to breakfast foods until that the sun is well toward the zenith."
"You needn't get up till you choose, Patty. You know you are mistress here."
"No, you're that. I'm merely the adviser-in-chief. And what I say goes!"
"Indeed it does! Good-night, Patty."
"Good-night, Mona. Scoot!"
CHAPTER VI
AUNT ADELAIDE
The next morning Patty was making one of her "peregrinating toilettes." She could dress as quickly as any one, if occasion required; but, if not, she loved to walk slowly about as she dressed, pausing now and then to look out of a window or into a book. So she dawdled through her pretty rooms, brushing her curly golden mop, and singing softly to herself.
"Come in," she said, in answer to a tap at her door, and Mona burst in, in a wild state of excitement.
"Aunt Adelaide has arrived!" she exclaimed.
"Well, that isn't a national calamity, is it?" returned Patty. "Why this look of dismay?"
"Wait till you see her! SHE'S a National Calamity!"
"Well, then, we must get Susan back again! But what's wrong with your noble aunt?"
"Oh, Patty, she's so queer! I haven't seen her for some years, but she's not a bit as I remembered her."
"Oh, don't take it too seriously. Perhaps we can make her over to suit ourselves. Did you expect her so early?"
"No; but she said she came early to avoid the midday heat. It's almost eleven. Do finish dressing, Patty, and come down to see her."
"Hasten me not, my child. Aunt Adelaide will keep, and I'm not in rapid mood this morning."
"Oh, bother; come on down as you are, then. That negligee thing is all right."
"No; Aunt Adelaide might think me a careless young person. I shall get into a tidy frock, and appear before her properly."
"Well, go on and do it, then. I'll wait for you." Mona sat down to wait, and Patty dropped into a chair before her dressing-table, and soon twisted up her curls into presentable shape.
"I declare, Patty," Mona said, "the quicker you twist up that yellow mop of yours, the more it looks like a coiffure in a fashion paper."
"And, as a rule, THEY look like the dickens. But describe the visitor to me, Mona."