Patty's Motor Car

CHAPTER XVII

A DINNER AND A DANCE

When Patty and Philip reached home, a little later than the others, Roger was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Roger?” asked Patty, as she jumped out of the car, for she wanted to make peace with him at once.

“He’s gone over to ‘Red Chimneys,’” said Elise, laughing. “He’s taken a terrible fancy to that Galbraith girl.”

“I told you we needn’t mind about Roger,” said Patty to Philip. “I’m glad he does like Mona, though I confess I was a little surprised at first.”

Very soon Roger came back to “The Pebbles,” bringing Mona with him.

“Hello, people!” the girl called out, as she neared the veranda. “You kept terribly sly about your birthday, didn’t you, Patty? But Mr. Farrington told me last night, and father telegraphed to New York for a present for me to give you, and it’s just arrived by special messenger. How do you like it?” and Mona tossed a small box into Patty’s lap.

The others crowded round to see, and Patty opened the box, to find a beautiful jewel pendant hung on a slender thread of a platinum neck-chain. The pendant was a fair-sized sapphire, surrounded by tiny diamonds, and was of fine design and workmanship.

“Mona! How lovely!” cried Patty. “But I can’t accept such a valuable present from you.”

“Nonsense! It’s a mere trinket. I’m delighted to give it to you, and father was delighted to get it for me, so you’ll simply have to take it. I was only afraid you wouldn’t think it pretty!”

“Pretty? Why, it’s perfectly beautiful!” and Patty clasped the chain around her neck at once. She was a little uncertain how to take the gift, but she could not so hurt Mona’s feelings as to refuse it, and, if she accepted it, she might as well do it gracefully. She cast an enquiring glance at Nan, who, as usual, came to her aid.

“It’s a lovely present, Patty; and Mona is most kind and generous to give it to you. I’m sure we all appreciate it.”

Thus tacitly advised, Patty thanked Mona prettily, and then Nan declared it was time to think about dressing for dinner.

“You’re coming, Mona, aren’t you?” said Patty, for she knew Nan had invited her.

“Oh, yes, indeed; I’ll be the first one here and the last one to leave. Trust me for that!” and, with a merry laugh, Mona ran away across the two lawns to her own house.

“She’s all right!” said Roger, looking after her.

“Yes, she is,” said Patty, generously; and, indeed, Mona had risen in her estimation since Roger showed such approval of her.

And then the group separated, to meet again at the birthday dinner.

The three girls gathered in Patty’s room for a short chat first.

“What are you going to wear, Patty?” asked Elise.

“Oh, I have a new blue affair that’s perfectly dear. What’s yours, Christine?”

“White,” said Christine, simply. “I can’t wear many colours.”

“You don’t need to, you angel person,” said Patty, kissing her. “You’ll look heavenly in white. I’ve never seen you in evening dress. It is evening dress, isn’t it, Christine?”

“Yes; that is, it’s a round neck, but it’s very simple.”

“You’re simple yourself,” said Patty; “simply sweet! Isn’t she, Elise?”

It was Patty’s delight to make Elise admire Christine, and of course it wasn’t possible, when thus appealed to, for Elise to do anything but acquiesce in Patty’s opinion.

“And now, honey, what’s your gorgeous creation that’s to dazzle the eyes of the country people down here?” said Patty.

“Mine is green,” returned Elise; “and it’s a good enough frock, but I know it won’t be in it with yours, Patsy.”

“Nonsense! It’s probably far handsomer. Aren’t we all getting grown-up, to have dinner parties and low-neck gowns! Though mine isn’t exactly low neck, it’s just cut out sort of round.”

“Yes, a Dutch neck,” said Elise; “that’s what mine is.”

“But still it does seem grown-up,” went on Patty, musingly, “to have a birthday dinner and dance, instead of just an ordinary party.”

“Well, you are grown-up when you’re nineteen,” said Christine. “I’m twenty, and I think I’m grown-up.”

“That’s because you’re Southern,” said Patty. “We stay little girls a lot longer up here. And I’m glad of it, for I hate being grown-up. I wish I could wear pig-tails and hair ribbons! Anyway, I’m not going to act grown-up to-night; my party’s going to be a frolic, not a formal affair.”

“How many are coming?” asked Christine, who had not entirely overcome her shyness with strangers.

“Well, there’s about ten of our own crowd, and Nan has invited about ten more of the Spring Beach people. The two Sayre girls are awfully jolly; you’ll like them. And Jack Pennington is a dear boy, and so is Guy Martin. And then there’s Dorothy Dennison and her brother, – and Phyllis Norton, – oh, quite a bunch of them! And, Christine, don’t you go cutting up any of your shrinking violet tricks! I want you to be the belle of the ball!”

Elise looked up in surprise, but, seeing the determined expression on Patty’s face, she said nothing; and, if she had her own opinion as to who should be belle of the ball, she expressed it only to herself.

An hour later, the three girls went downstairs together. Patty in the middle, with her sky-blue chiffon frock, was looking her best. The pale blue suited her golden hair and pink cheeks, and the semi-low-cut neck was exceedingly becoming to her rounded throat and chin.

Elise’s green dress was far more elaborate, but her brilliant beauty seemed to call for an ornate setting.

Christine’s gown was perhaps the prettiest of all. Of white crêpe-de-chine, it hung in soft, straight folds, and around the throat was a delicate pearl embroidery. A girdle of pearl-work, with long ends, gave a finishing touch; and on Christine’s willowy figure, and with her Madonna face, the gown was appropriate and effective.

The boys, who were waiting in the hall, exclaimed in vociferous compliment as the girls came slowly down the staircase, and declared that such a trio of beauty had never before been seen.

“Nonsense!” cried Patty. “Don’t you talk to us as if we were grown-up young ladies! We’re only a little bit more than schoolgirls. Just because I’m nineteen, I’m not going to be treated with dignity! Roger, will you dance the first dance with me?”

Roger looked embarrassed, and, though he tried to speak, he hesitated and stammered.

“Why, Patty, – that is, – I’d be only too delighted, – but – ”

“But you’ve already asked Mona!” cried Patty, with a teasing laugh. “I knew it perfectly well, Roger, and I only asked you to tease you. And I’ll be perfectly content with the second, so save that for me.”

“Indeed I will, and thank you kindly,” said Roger, and then Philip Van Reypen and Kenneth both said at once, “May I have the first dance, Patty?”

“No, indeed,” she returned, laughing gaily at them; “I’m not going to give my first dance to any of my house party. There are several Spring Beach boys coming, and I shall dance with whichever one of those asks me first.”

Patty’s own particular decided wag of the head accompanied this speech, and the men knew it would be of no use to coax her.

And then the other guests began to arrive, and the great entrance hall of “The Pebbles” was a scene of merry laughter and chatter, and greetings and introductions on all sides.

Under Nan’s orders, the whole place had been beautifully decorated. In the hall and rooms were garlands and banks of flowers, and tall palms shading alcoved nooks. The verandas were hung with Japanese lanterns, and a few of these were scattered among the shrubbery, to light the way for any who might be inclined to stroll on the lawn.

At eight o’clock, Patty, taking her father’s arm, led the way to the dining-room. Nan and Mr. Hepworth followed, and then the others in merry procession.

Dinner was served at small tables, as the number of guests was too large to be accommodated at one. Each table was beautifully decorated with flowers and candles, and pretty place-cards as souvenirs of the occasion.

Of course there was a birthday cake, and when at last Patty cut it, and each guest had partaken of it, the dinner was over, and the dance about to begin.

Several musicians were on the broad landing, halfway upstairs, and played just the right kind of music for young people’s merry dancing.

Jack Pennington asked Patty for the first dance, and, a little to his surprise, she graciously granted it. He had hardly hoped for this honour, but he didn’t know that Patty had planned it thus in order to avoid selecting one of her house party in preference to the others. So she danced with Jack Pennington, and afterward, as they sauntered out on the veranda, all the other men clustered around Patty, begging for dances, until her programme was full, and many of the dances had been divided. Of course, as Patty was hostess, she would naturally receive much attention, but her own merry and charming personality made her easily the most popular girl present, though the others were almost equally so. Handsome Elise was a general favourite, and Christine’s delicate Southern beauty attracted many admirers.

Mona was resplendent in bright pink silk, elaborately ornamented. She wore too many jewels, as always, but her whole-souled, good-tempered gaiety, and her hearty enjoyment of the occasion, made her attractive to many.

After a dance with Philip, Patty and he wandered out on to the veranda, and sat for a moment on the railing.

“Beautiful show, Patty,” he said; “one of the prettiest parties I ever saw. These lanterns are gorgeous. Why don’t you keep them here all the time? Sets off the house wonderfully. Come down on the lawn for a little stroll.”

“I’m afraid you’ll kidnap me,” said Patty, mischievously.

“No; honest I won’t. Though I’d like to. Say, let’s get Camilla out, and go for a little spin. Will you?”

“Indeed, I won’t! We got out of that other scrape pretty well. But I’m not going to take any chances again! Beside, the next dance is Kenneth’s. I’d better get back where he can find me.”

“Oh, he’ll hunt you up, all right! Hello! Who’s this?”

Some one came running toward them through the semi-darkness. It was Mona, out of breath and laughing. “Hide me!” she cried. “Hide me! I’m running away from Roger!”

“How extraordinary,” laughed Patty. “You are a coquettish young thing, aren’t you, Mona?”

“Hide me, Patty,” urged Mona. “That’s a dear. Let me get behind you two.”

Mona slipped around behind Patty and Philip, but, anxious to help her, Patty said: “Back into the arbour, Mona; we’ll keep in front of you. Hurry! here comes Roger.”

“Have you seen Miss Galbraith?” asked Roger, coming up to them, entirely unsuspicious of Mona’s whereabouts.

“We’ve just strolled out here,” said Patty, innocently. “Why don’t you look on the veranda, Roger? Does she know you’re looking for her?”

“Of course she does! On the veranda, you say?” and Roger was off like a shot.

Patty and Philip, stifling with laughter, turned back to Mona, who stood with her finger on her lips, cautioning silence.

And as, in obedience to her gesture, they were still, they all distinctly heard a voice speaking on the other side of the arbour. The speaker could not be seen, and the hearers had no intention of eavesdropping, but it was Kenneth’s voice, and his tone was tense and angry.

“I tell you, Elise,” he said, “I don’t believe Patty ever said that!”

“She did,” said Elise, with the accent of one who reiterates.

It was Philip Van Reypen’s impulse to walk round the arbour at once, and make their presence known, but Patty silently put her hand on his arm and led him toward the house.

Mona followed, also silently, for she realised at once that Patty was disturbed at what she had heard. The words in themselves might mean a mere trifle or nothing at all; but the seriousness of Kenneth’s voice, and the petulant insistence of Elise, seemed to forebode trouble.

“What does it mean?” whispered Philip, as they neared the house.

“Nothing, – nothing at all,” said Patty, but she spoke in a low voice and her lip was quivering. She had divined intuitively that Elise had told Kenneth something to make him angry, and she felt sure that Elise had done it purposely, and that she had misrepresented the facts.

“Shall I take you into the house?” asked Philip, gently. “I think you said your next dance is Harper’s.”

“Not just yet,” said Patty, who was so hurt by Elise’s treachery that she could not fully control her quivering lip and the tears that came to her eyes.

Mona had disappeared, and so Philip said, “Let us stroll once more round the drive, and then it will be all right.”

His voice was so pleasant, and his manner so quiet, that it acted as a balm to Patty’s shattered nerves, and she looked up gratefully, and smiled at him through two teardrops that trembled in her blue eyes.

“You’re awfully good,” she said, “and I’m not going to be silly. Never mind it. But aren’t you engaged for this dance?”

“Yes, to Miss Galbraith,” he replied, smiling; “but I feel quite sure she has forgotten it in her game of hide-and-seek with young Farrington.”

“But you must go and find her, all the same,” said Patty, suddenly mindful of etiquette. “Come! let us hurry to the house. I’m all right now.”

They quickened their pace, and Philip talked with a cheery banter, so that, when they reached the veranda, Patty was her own smiling, merry self, and she felt profoundly grateful to Philip because he had not again referred to the bit of conversation they had overheard.

CHAPTER XVIII

MONA INTERFERES

Patty found Kenneth in the doorway, awaiting her.

“Here you are,” he called out, cheerily enough, and Patty hoped it was only her imagination that made her think his manner a little constrained. He was gentle and kindly as ever, but he was not in merry mood, and Patty felt this at once.

They began to dance. Their steps suited perfectly, and, though Patty herself was such an accomplished dancer that she could adapt her step to any one, yet she always specially enjoyed a turn with Kenneth. But now he seemed different, and, though he danced as perfectly as usual, and so did Patty, there was a certain constraint in his manner and he spoke only occasionally, and then the merest commonplaces. Patty realised fully that there was something wrong, but she also knew she could do nothing then and there to set it right. She couldn’t ask Kenneth what Elise had said to him, and she couldn’t think of any other way to open the subject.

So, after a few turns round the room, she was really glad that another partner claimed her, for this was one of the dances that she had divided.

Kenneth left her, with a simple “Thank you, Patty,” and, turning on his heel, went out of the dancing-room. In the hall he met Mona, who said, abruptly and impulsively: “Oh, Mr. Harper! I haven’t any partner for this dance. Come for a walk round the lawn, won’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you rather dance?” asked Kenneth, who was in no mood for conversation.

“No,” said Mona, smiling wilfully, “I want to walk out under the lanterns on the lawn. They’re so lovely and Japanesy.”

Mona had a wheedling way with her, and Kenneth smiled a little as he escorted her down the steps and along a side path through the grounds.

“You think I’m a queer girl, don’t you, Mr. Harper?” she began, as they strolled along under the trees.

“If I did, you couldn’t expect me to tell you so, Miss Galbraith,” he parried.

“Well, even if you haven’t thought so before, you will now;” and Mona gave a determined shake of her head. “But I don’t care if you do. I want you to answer me a question. What did Miss Farrington tell you that Patty Fairfield had said, and you returned that you didn’t believe Patty said it?”

Now Kenneth was an exceedingly well-mannered young man, but he was certainly taken aback by this question flung at him so suddenly by a comparative stranger, and he was tempted to reply so plainly that she must think him rude. But, after a moment’s hesitation, he modified his intentions, and only said:

“I’m sorry to have you think me queer, Miss Galbraith, but, even at that risk, I must decline to answer such a very personal question. And, too – ”

“And, too,” repeated Mona, stopping and turning to look squarely at him, “you were going to say, that I’m an eavesdropper, and, except for your inability to be so rude, you would tell me so.”

Kenneth was amazed at the girl’s intuition, but he said honestly, “You are very nearly right, Miss Galbraith.”

“Very nearly right? I’m exactly right, and you know it! Now let me tell you, Mr. Kenneth Harper, I don’t care one snip-jack for your opinion of me, and you may think just exactly what you choose! But I have another’s interest at heart, and I’m perfectly justified in asking you the question I did ask. Please tell me.”

At the last words Mona’s voice sank to a pleading whisper, and there was such heartfelt urgency in her voice that he was moved against his will.

“Why do you want to know, Miss Galbraith?” he asked, more gently.

They were walking on again now, and Mona looked straight before her as she replied: “I cannot tell you that, but I beg of you to tell me what I ask. Was it anything about me?” Mona had no idea that it was, and this was a purely strategic enquiry.

“No, it was not about you, – and now I hope you’re satisfied.”

“No, I’m not satisfied. Was it about you?”

“Yes, it was.”

“And was it something mean Patty had said about you?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Mr. Harper, you are not a true friend. You know Patty Fairfield couldn’t say a mean thing to save her life! And especially about you, one of her best friends!”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m that,” said Kenneth, in a cynical tone.