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“Not so very; but when talking to a learned monk, I try to be as wise as I can. Oh, look at that stunning big man,—who is he?”
“Looks like one of the patriarchs; but I guess he’s meant for King Lear. See the wreath of flowers on his white hair.”
“Did Lear wear flowers? I thought he wore a crown.”
“Tut! tut! Little Bo-Peep, you must brush up your Shakespeare. Don’t you know King Lear became a little troubled in his head, and adorned himself with a garland?”
“Well, he’s awfully picturesque,” said Patty, quite undisturbed by her ignorance of the play, and looking admiringly at Lear’s magnificent court robes of velvet and ermine, and his long, flowing white hair and beard, and the garland of flowers that lay loosely on the glistening white wig and trailed down behind.
As they neared the picturesque figure, King Lear bowed low before Patty, and held out his hand for her dance card.
It was the rule of the ball not to speak, but to indicate invitations by gestures.
However, Patty had no reason to keep silent, as they were nearly all strangers, so she laughed, and spoke right out: “I’d gladly give you a dance, King Lear, but I haven’t one left.”
With another courtly bow, King Lear still seemed to insist on his wish, and he took up her card, which she had tied to her crook by a narrow ribbon. With surprise he saw the whole second page blank, and pointed to it with an accusing gesture.
“Ah, yes,” returned Patty, smiling, “but those are for my friends after I know them. We unmask at supper-time, and then I shall use some discrimination in bestowing my dances. If you want one of those you must ask me for it after supper.”
King Lear bowed submissively to Patty’s decree, and was about to move away, when a sudden thought struck him. He picked up Patty’s card again, and indicated a space between the last dance and the supper.
“Oh, I know what you mean,” cried Patty. “You mean an ‘extra.’ But I don’t think they’ll have any. And, anyway, I never engage for extras. If they do have one, and you happen to be around, I’ll give it to you;—that’s all I can say.” And then Patty’s next partner came, and she danced away with him, leaving King Lear making his sweeping, impressive bows.
“Who is he?” asked Patty, of Roger, who chanced to be her partner this time.
“Don’t know, I’m sure; but I know scarcely any of the people up here. They seem to be a fine crowd, though. Have you noticed the Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra? There she is now. Isn’t she stunning?”
Patty looked round, to see a tall, majestic woman, dressed as Zenobia. Her tiny mask hid only her eyes, and her beautiful, classic face well accorded with the character she had chosen.
“She’s beautiful!” declared Patty, with heartfelt admiration. “I wish I was big and stunning, Roger, instead of a little scrap of humanity.”
“What a silly you are, Patty Pink! Now, I’ve no doubt that tall, majestic-looking creature wishes she could be a little fairy, like you.”
“But a big woman is so much more graceful and dignified.”
“Patty, I do believe you’re fishing! And I know you’re talking nonsense! Dignified isn’t just the term I should apply to you,—but if there’s anybody more graceful than you are, I’ve yet to see her.”
“Oh, Roger, that’s dear of you. You know very well, I hate flattery or compliments, but when a real friend says a nice thing it does me good. And, truly, it’s the regret of my life, that I’m not about six inches taller. There, look at Zenobia now. She’s walking with that King Lear. Aren’t they a stunning couple?”
“Yes, they are. But if I were you, I wouldn’t be envious of other women’s attractions. You have quite enough of your own.”
“Never mind about me,” said Patty, suddenly realising that she was talking foolishly. “Let’s talk about Mona. She’s looking beautiful to-night, Roger.”
“She always does,” and Roger had a strange thrill in his voice, that struck a sympathetic chord in Patty’s heart.
“What about her, Roger? Isn’t she good to you?”
“Not very. She’s capricious, Patty; sometimes awfully kind, and then again she says things that cut deep. Patty, do you think she really cares for that Lansing man?”
“I don’t know, Roger. I can’t make Mona out at all, lately. She used to be so frank and open with me, and now she never talks confidences at all.”
“Well, I can’t understand her, either. But here comes Mr. Collins, looking for you, Patty. Is only half of this dance mine?”
“Yes, Roger. I had to chop up every one, to-night. You may have one after supper, if you like.”
Patty whirled through the various dances, and at the last one before supper she found herself again with Philip Van Reypen.
“Why, I didn’t know this was yours!” she cried, looking at her card, where, sure enough, she saw the initials B. S.
“It sure is mine,” returned Bobby Shafto; “but we’re not going to dance it.”
“Why not, and what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to wander away into the conservatory.”
“There isn’t any conservatory. This is a club-house, you know.”
“Well, they’ve fixed up the gymnasium, so it’s almost a conservatory. It’s full of palms and flowers and things, and it makes a perfectly good imitation.”
“But why do we go there?” asked Patty, as Philip led her away from the dancing-room.
“Oh, to settle affairs of state.” He led her to the gymnasium, and sure enough, tall palms and flowering plants had been arranged to form little nooks and bowers, which were evidently intended for tête-à-tête conversations.
“You know,” Philip began, as they found a pleasant seat, under some palms, “you know, Patty, you promised me something.”
“Didn’t, neither.”
“Yes, you did, and I’m going to hold you to your promise. You promised–”
“‘Rose, you promised!’” sang Patty, humming a foolish little song that was an old-fashioned favourite.
“Yes, you did promise, you exasperating little Rose, you! And I’m going to keep you prisoner here, until you make it good! Patty, you said you’d look into your heart, and tell me what you found there.”
“Goodness me, Philip, did I really say that? Well, it will take me an awful long while to tell you all that’s in it.”
“Really, Patty? Did you find so much?”
“Yes, heaps of things.”
“But I mean about me.”
“Oh, about you! Why, I don’t know that there’s anything there at all about you.”
“Oh, yes, there is; you can’t fool me that way. Now, Patty, do be serious. Look in your heart, and see if there isn’t a little love for me?”
Patty sat very still, and closed her eyes, as Philip could see through the holes in her blue mask.
Then she opened them, and said, with a smile: “I looked and hunted good, Philip, and I can’t find a bit of love for you. But there’s an awful big, nice, warm friendship, if you care about that.”
“I do care about that, Patty. I care very much for it, but I want more.”
Just at that moment King Lear and Zenobia strolled past them, and Patty almost forgot Philip as she gazed after the two majestic figures.
“Patty,” he said, recalling her attention, “Patty, dear, I say I want more.”
“Piggy-wig!” exclaimed Patty, with her blue eyes twinkling at him through the mask. “More what? I was looking at King Lear, and I lost the thread of your discourse, Philip.”
“Patty Fairfield, I’d like to shake you! Don’t you know what I’m asking of you?”
“Well, even if I do, I must say, Philip, that I can’t carry on a serious conversation with a mask on. Now, you know, they take these things off pretty soon, and then–”
“And then may I ask you again, Patty, and will you listen to me and answer me?”
“Dunno. I make no promises. Philip, this dance is over. I expect they’re going to unmask now. Come on, let’s go back to our crowd.”
But just as they rose to go, Jim Kenerley approached, and King Lear was with him.
“Little Bo-Peep,” said the big Indian, “King Lear tells me that you half promised him an extra, if there should be one.”
“As it was only half a promise, then it means only half a dance,” said Patty, turning her laughing blue eyes to the majestic, flower-crowned King. “Is there going to be an extra, Jim,—I mean Chief Mudjokivis, or whatever your Indian name is?”
“I don’t know, Bo-Peep. I’ll go and see.”
Jim went away, and as Philip had already gone, Patty was left alone with the white-haired King.
With a slow, majestic air, he touched her gently on the arm, and motioned for her to be seated. Then he sat down beside her, and through the eyeholes of his mask, he looked straight into her eyes.
At his intent gaze, Patty felt almost frightened, but as her eyes met his own, she became conscious of something familiar in the blue eyes that looked at her, and then she heard King Lear whisper, softly: “Apple Blossom!”
Patty fairly jumped; then, seeing the smile that came into his eyes, she put out both hands to King Lear, and said, gladly: “Bill! Little Billee! Oh, I am glad to see you!”
“Are you, really?” And Bill Farnsworth’s voice had a slight tremor in it. “Are you sure of that, my girl?”
“Of course I am,” and Patty had regained her gay demeanour, which she had lost in her moment of intense surprise. “Oh, of course I am! I was so sorry to have missed you last week. And Jim said you went back to Arizona.”
“I did expect to, but I was detained in New York, and only this morning I found I could run up here and stay till to-morrow. I couldn’t get here earlier, and when I reached the house, you had all started. So I got into these togs, and came along.”
“Your togs are wonderful, Little Billee. I never saw you look so stunning, not even as Father Neptune.”
“That was a great show, wasn’t it?” and Big Bill smiled at the recollection. “But I say, Little Girl, you’re looking rather wonderful yourself to-night. Oh, Patty, it’s good to see you again!”
“And it’s good to see you; though it doesn’t seem as if I had really seen you. That mask and beard completely cover up your noble countenance.”
“And I wish you’d take off that dinky little scrap of blue, so I can see if you are still my Apple Blossom Girl.”
“But I thought you wanted the extra dance.”
“I don’t believe there’s going to be any extra, after all. I think the people are anxious to get their masks off, and if so we’ll have our dance after supper.”
CHAPTER XVIII
BACK TO NEW YORK
Farnsworth was right. There was no extra before supper, and the guests were even now flocking to the supper-room.
Philip came toward them, looking for Patty, his mask already off.
“Oh, can we really take them off now?” cried Patty. “I’m so glad. They’re horridly uncomfortable. I’ll never wear one again. I love a fancy dress party, but I don’t see any sense in a masquerade.”
She took off her mask as she spoke, and her pretty face was flushed pink and her hair was curling in moist ringlets about her temples.
Farnsworth looked down on her as he removed his own mask. “Apple Blossom!” he exclaimed again, and the comparison was very apt, for the pink and white of Patty’s face was just the color of the blossoms.
Then the two men looked at each other, and Patty suddenly realised that they had never met.
“Oh, you don’t know each other, do you?” she exclaimed. “And you my two best friends! Mr. Farnsworth, this is Mr. Van Reypen. And now, which of you is going to take me to supper?”
As each offered an arm at once, Patty accepted both, and walked out demurely between the two big men. The men were exceedingly polite and courteous, but each was annoyed at the other’s presence. As a matter of fact, Farnsworth had chanced to overhear a few words that Philip said to Patty a short time before. It was by merest chance that King Lear and Zenobia had walked by just as Philip was asking Patty to give him more than friendship. Zenobia, uninterested in the two under the palms, didn’t even hear the words; but Farnsworth, who had found out from Jim Kenerley all the members of the house party, had scarcely taken his eyes from Little Bo-Peep since he arrived at the ball. With no intention of eavesdropping, he had followed her about, hoping to get a chance to see her first alone. He managed this only with Kenerley’s help, and meantime he had discovered that Van Reypen was very seriously interested in Little Bo-Peep.
Philip himself knew little of Farnsworth, save for a few chance remarks he had heard at the Kenerleys’, but he realised at once that Patty and the big Westerner were great friends, if nothing more.
However, the three went to supper together, and joined the group in which they were most interested.
Great was the surprise of Daisy and Mona when Patty appeared with Mr. Farnsworth.
Big Bill was in the merriest of spirits. He greeted everybody heartily, he joked and laughed, and was at his most entertaining best. Patty was very proud of him, for without his mask he looked very handsome as King Lear, and his stalwart figure seemed to dwarf the other men.
After supper he claimed Patty for the promised dance.
“Would you rather dance with King Lear?” he said, smiling, “with all these heavy velvet draperies bothering us, or shall I go and shed this robe, and just be plain Bill?”
Patty looked at him, thoughtfully. “We’d have a better dance if you took off that flapping robe. But then, of course, you’d have to take off your wigs and things, and you wouldn’t be half so beautiful.”
“Well, then, don’t let’s dance, but just stroll around and talk. And there’s another reason why I’d rather keep on my wig and wreath.”
“What’s that?”
“Because the wreath means that I am mad.”
“Mad at me?”
“Oh, not that kind of mad! I mean crazy, demented, loony,—what was the old King, anyway?”
“A little touched?”
“Yes, that’s it; and so, you see, he could say anything he wanted to. You know, people forgive crazy people, no matter what they say.”
“Are you going to say crazy things to me?”
“Very likely; you’ve completely turned my head.”
“Do you know, I didn’t even know King Lear ever went crazy,” said Patty in an endeavour to change the subject.
“Why, fie, fie, Little Girl, I thought you knew your Shakespeare; but I suppose you’re too busy socially to read much poetry.”
“I read one poem this winter that I liked,” said Patty, demurely.
“Did you? What was it?”
“It came to me in a blue envelope.”
“It did! Why, Patty, Jim told me you never got that.”
“Jim is mistaken; I did get it.”
“And did you like it?”
“Where did you get it, Bill?”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes, I liked it lots. Who wrote it?”
“I did.”
“Did you, really? You clever man! I thought possibly you might have done it, but it sounded so,—so finished.”
“Oh, no, it didn’t, Patty. It was crude and amateurish; but it was written to you and about you, so I did the best I could. Patty, are you in love with Van Reypen?”
“What!” and Patty stood still and looked at Farnsworth, indignantly. “You have no right to ask such a question!”
“I know I haven’t, Patty, and I apologise. I can’t seem to get over my Western bluntness. And, Little Girl, I don’t blame you a bit if you do care for him. He’s a good-looking chap, and an all-round good man.”
“You seem to have sized him up pretty quickly. Why, you’ve only just met him.”
“Yes, but you know I was at the Kenerleys’ last week, and Jim told me all about him.”
“Why did you want to know all about him?”
“Shall I tell you why?” And Farnsworth’s blue eyes looked straight into Patty’s own. “I inquired about him, because Daisy said you were just the same as engaged to him.”
“Daisy said that, did she?” Patty rarely lost her temper, but this unwarranted speech of Daisy Dow’s made her exceedingly angry. But what hurt her even more, was that Bill should believe Daisy’s assertion, and should take it so calmly. His attitude piqued Patty; and she said, coldly: “Well, if Daisy says so, it must be so.”
“I know it, Little Girl,” and Farnsworth’s voice was very tender. “He can give you everything that you ought to have,—wealth, social position, and a life of luxury and pleasure. Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman and a true man. I hope you will be very happy with him, Patty.”
For some reason this speech exasperated Patty beyond all measure. It seemed as if her friends were settling her affairs for her, without giving her any voice in the decision. “You are a little premature, Bill,” she said, without a smile. “I’m not engaged to Mr. Van Reypen, and I do not know that I shall be.”
“Oh, yes, you will, Patty; but don’t be hasty, dear child. Think it over before you decide, for you know there are other things in the world beside wealth and social position.”
“What, for instance?” said Patty, in a flippant tone.
“Love,” said Farnsworth, very seriously.
And then Patty was moved by a spirit of perversity. She thought that if Farnsworth really cared for her, he was handing her over to Philip very easily, and she resented this attitude.
“Are you implying that Mr. Van Reypen is not capable of giving me love, as well as the other advantages you enumerate?”
“No, Patty, I am not implying anything of the sort. I only know that you are too young yet to be engaged to anybody, and I wish for your own sake you would wait,—at least until you are perfectly sure of your own affections. But if they are given to Mr. Van Reypen, I shall be glad for you that you have chosen so wisely.”
Patty looked at Farnsworth in amazement. Remembering what he had said to her last summer, it was strange to hear him talk this way. She could not know that the honest, big-hearted fellow was breaking his own heart at the thought of losing her; but that he unselfishly felt that Van Reypen, as a man of the world, was more fitting for pretty Patty than himself. He knew he was Western, and different from Patty’s friends and associates, and he was so lacking in egotism or in self-conceit that he couldn’t recognise his own sterling merits. And, too, though he was interested in some mining projects, they had not yet materialised, and he did not yet know whether the near future would bring him great wealth, or exactly the reverse of fortune.
But Patty couldn’t read his heart, and she was disappointed and piqued at his manner and words. Without even a glance into his earnest eyes, she said: “Thank you, Bill, for your advice; I know it is well meant, and I appreciate it. Please take me back to Philip now.”
Farnsworth gave her a pained look, but without a word turned and led her back to the group they had left.
Philip was waiting there, and Patty, to hide the strange hurt she felt in her own heart, was exceedingly kind in her manner toward him.
“Our dance, Philip,” she said, gaily, and though it hadn’t been engaged, Philip was only too glad to get it.
Soon afterward, the ball was over, and they all went home. As Patty came from the cloak room, wrapped in her fur coat, Philip stepped up to her in such a possessive way, that Farnsworth, who had also been waiting for her, turned aside.
“That’s a foregone conclusion,” said Jim Kenerley to Farnsworth, as he glanced at Patty and Philip.
“Nonsense,” said Adèle. “Patty isn’t thinking of conclusions yet. But I must say it would be a very satisfactory match.”
“Yes, Mr. Van Reypen seems to be a fine fellow,” agreed Farnsworth.
When they reached home, Patty said good-night, declaring she was weary enough to go straight to bed at once.
“Will you come down again later, if you’re hungry?” said Philip, smiling at the recollection of Christmas Eve.
“No,” and Patty flashed her dimples at him; and knowing that Farnsworth was listening, she added, “There’s no moonlight to-night!”
“Moonlight does help,” said Philip. “Good-night, Little Bo-Peep.”
“Good-night, Bobby Shafto,” and Patty started upstairs, then turned, and holding out her hand to Farnsworth, said “Good-night, King Lear; shall I see you in the morning?”
“No; I leave on the early train,” said Farnsworth, abruptly. “Good-night, Patty, and good-bye.”
He turned away, toward Daisy, and Patty went on upstairs.
Farnsworth had spoken in a kind voice, but Patty knew that he had heard what she and Philip had said about coming down in the moonlight.
“I think he’s a horrid, mean old thing!” said Patty to herself, when she reached her own room. “His manners are not half as good as Philip’s, and he’s rude and unkind, and I just hate him!”
Whereupon, as if to prove her words, she took from her portfolio the poem in the blue envelope, and read it all over again; and then put it under her pillow and went to sleep.
A few days later Patty was back in New York. She gave her father and Nan glowing accounts of the delightful times she had had at Fern Falls and the jollities of a country house party in the winter time. She told them all about the pleasant people she had met up there, about her experience at Mrs. Fay’s, and about Farnsworth’s flying visits.
“I’d like to meet that man,” said Nan. “I think he sounds attractive, Patty.”
“He is attractive,” said Patty, frankly; “but he’s queer. You never know what mood he’s going to be in. Sometimes he’s awfully friendly, and then again he gets huffy over nothing.”
“I’m afraid you tease him, Patty,” said her father, smiling at her. “You’re getting to be such a popular young person that I fear you’re getting spoiled.”
“Not Patty,” said Nan, kindly. “Go ahead, my child, and have all the fun you can. The young men all adore you, and I don’t wonder.”
“Why, Nancy Bell, how complimentary you are!” and Patty gave her stepmother an affectionate pat.
“But now,” said Mr. Fairfield, “if I may have the floor for a minute, I’d like to make an announcement. We have a plan, Patty, which we made while you were away, and which I hope will meet with your approval.”
“As if I ever disapproved of any of your plans, my dear daddy. Consider my approval granted before you begin.”
“Well, it’s this: I think Nan is looking a little bit pale, and I feel a trifle pale myself, so I think we two will run away down South for a fortnight or so, and leave you here.”
“Alone?” asked Patty, in surprise.
“Well, no; hardly that. But how would you like to have Mrs. Allen, Nan’s mother, come and stay with you?”
“I think that will be lovely,” exclaimed Patty. “I’m awfully fond of Mrs. Allen, and I haven’t seen her for a long time.”
“She’s not a very sedate matron,” said Nan, laughing. “I dare say she’ll keep you on the go, Patty. She’s fond of opera and concerts, and she likes gaiety. But father will come over for the week-ends, and look after you both.”
Nan’s parents lived in Philadelphia, and as they had just returned from a trip abroad, the Fairfields hadn’t seen them lately. But it had seemed to them that the arrangement they had planned would be satisfactory all round, for Mrs. Allen liked to spend a few weeks in New York each winter.
About a week later the elder Fairfields departed, and Mrs. Allen arrived.
She was a fine-looking lady of a youthful middle age, and looked forward with pleasure to her visit with Patty.
“Now, you mustn’t let me be a burden to you in any way, my dear,” Mrs. Allen said, after the two were left alone. “Whenever I can help you, or whenever you want a chaperon, I’m entirely at your service; but when I’m not necessary to your plans, don’t consider me at all,—and don’t think about entertaining me, for I can look after myself. I’m never lonely or bored.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Allen,” said Patty. “I’m sure we shall get on most beautifully together, and anything you want or want to do, I want you to give your own orders, just as if you were in your own home.”
And so the two had many pleasant times together. They went to matinées, teas, and concerts, to picture exhibitions, and to card parties. Mrs. Allen did not care for dances, but went gladly when it was a party where Patty required a chaperon.
All of the young people liked Mrs. Allen, and she became well acquainted with all of Patty’s friends.
Bill Farnsworth was still in New York. His plans were uncertain, and often changed from day to day, owing to various details of his business.
He called on Patty occasionally, but not often, and his calls were short and formal.
“I like that big Western chap,” Mrs. Allen said to Patty one day; “but he seems preoccupied. Sometimes he sits as if in a brown study, and says nothing for quite some minutes. And then, when you speak to him, he answers abruptly, as if bringing his mind back from faraway thoughts.”