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A smile passed over Van Reypen's face at the chance reference to the last-named vehicle, and his intuitions told him that Patty had gone for a solitary drive to get away from other people for a little while.
"Oh, LOOK who's here!" cried Daisy, suddenly, as a motor car came whizzing up the steps and out jumped Bill Farnsworth.
"I just stopped for a minute," he said to Adele, "to see how you all are after your party."
"All quite well," said Adele, "but sorry you couldn't stay here with us instead of going on."
"Sorry, too," said Farnsworth. "Where's Miss Fairfield?" and he looked about inquiringly.
"Gone for a drive," replied Adele, and Farnsworth made no further reference to Patty. But his call was short and soon he was again starting his car.
"Which way did Miss Fairfield go?" he murmured in a low voice to
Kenerley, as his car moved off.
"East," said Jim, with a teasing smile at Farnsworth, and then Bill was gone.
He swung out on to the broad highway and turned east. There were no bypaths near and he had an intention of following and overtaking Patty. He wanted to see her, and with Bill Farnsworth to want to do anything was to do it.
Now it chanced that Patty had had a detention. Though an expert driver, and a fairly good mechanician for her own car, she was not entirely familiar with the car she was driving, and when it stopped stock-still at the side of the road, she found herself unable to discover the exact difficulty.
She was not overanxious, for it was a frequented road and she felt sure some car would come along, in whose driver she might feel sufficient confidence to ask help. But it so chanced that she sat for some time before any car came. The sun was warm and she threw off her coat, really enjoying basking in the sunshine while she waited.
And it was this sudden apparition of a golden head shining in the sunlight that gave Farnsworth a shock of surprise as he came up behind Patty's car.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "there she is! In trouble, too. Jolly well I came along, bless her heart! But it's funny if she can't manage the car. I believe she's sitting there purposely."
For a few moments Bill sat looking at the yellow head and smiling gently at it. Then he had an inspiration to drive right past her and see if she would speak to him. She had been far from cordial the day before and Farnsworth was uncertain whether she wanted to see him or not.
So, driving slowly, he passed by Patty in her motionless car.
Patty jumped at the sound of some one coming, and intending to ask help, held out her hand and said, "Please—" before she realised who it was.
Farnsworth turned his head, stopped his car, whipped off his cap and jumped out, saying, as he walked toward Patty's car, "An accident, ma'am? Can I help you?"
A spirit of perversity rose in Patty's heart. Without knowing why, she desired to inflict a hurt on the man who was smiling at her.
"I beg your pardon," she said, coldly, "I thought you were a stranger."
"I'll be a stranger, if you like," and Farnsworth bowed profoundly.
"Very well, I wish you would. Pray proceed with your journey," and Patty bowed, and turned her head toward the opposite landscape.
"But you would ask a stranger to help you," said Farnsworth, feeling a strong desire to shake the exasperating little pink figure.
"Not every stranger," said Patty. "I am waiting to select the one I want."
"Oh, DO select me! I'm an awfully nice stranger, and incidentally, I could fix that car of yours in a jiffy."
"Did Adele order you to fix this car?" and Patty's blue eyes gave Bill a look of withering scorn.
"No, she did not."
"Then I can't think of allowing you to do it. I don't want you to do
ANYTHING for me except at Adele's orders!"
"You little goose! I've a notion to kidnap you, wild roses and all, and take you off in my car."
"Did Adele order you to do THAT?"
"Patty, stop this nonsense! Of course I know what you mean, that I asked you to dance in Adele's name, instead of in my own."
"Yes; I admit I prefer to be asked to dance, personally, and not vi-vike—"
"Vicariously is the word you are floundering over," said Farnsworth with utmost gravity; "well, now, I'll fix your car vicariously, or personally, or any old way you like,—if you'll just behave yourself and smile upon me."
"I don't want my car fixed."
"You prefer to stay here?"
"I do."
"Alone?"
"Alone." Patty tried very hard to look like a stone image but only succeeded in looking like a very pretty pink-cheeked girl.
However, at her last word, and when Patty was just about to break into a dimpled smile, Farnsworth achieved a most dignified and conventional bow, replaced his cap, and without another glance at Patty, deliberately got into his car and drove away. He passed Patty, continuing east, and in a few moments was lost to sight, as he flew down the road at a swift pace.
"Well!" remarked Miss Patricia Fairfield, aloud. "Well! Hooray for you,
Little Billee! I didn't know you had it in you to act like that!
But"—and her face clouded a little—"I suppose your head is so full of
Kitty Morton that you don't care what becomes of Patty Fairfield! H'm."
Patty sat still for some time, thinking over this new episode. She had been rude to Farnsworth, and she had done it purposely. But she was accustomed to having young men laugh at her pertness and chuckle over her sauciness.
One or two cars passed her, but as she scrutinised the drivers, they did not seem to be just the type of whom she cared to ask help; but presently a small car came toward her, driven by a frank-looking, pleasant-faced young man.
"Hello," he called out with the camaraderie of the road; "had a breakdown? Want some help?"
"Yes, sir," and Patty spoke in a timid, subdued voice.
"Then I'm your man," he said, as he jumped out and came over to her car. "My name's Peyton," he went on, "Bob Peyton, and very much at your service. What's the matter?"
"I don't know, sir," and Patty surrendered to a mischievous impulse; "I'm Mrs. Hemingway's maid; Mrs. Hemingway, sir, she can run the car, but I can't."
"Where is Mrs. Hemingway?"
"When the car broke down, sir, she said she would go for help. I think she went to that house over there."
"H'm! And so you're her maid. Personal maid, do you mean?"
"Not exactly, sir. I'm her new waitress, she was just taking me home, sir."
Patty didn't know why she was talking this rubbish, but it popped into her head, and the young man's eyes were so twinkly and gay, she felt like playing a joke on him. She thought he would fix her car, and then she would thank him and ride away, without having given her real name.
"Ah, my good girl," Mr. Peyton said, "and so you are a waitress. What is your name?"
"Suzette, sir. I'm French."
"Yes, I can see that by looking at you! Well, Suzerte, are you an experienced waitress?"
"Oh, yes, sir. I've worked in the best families and in,—and in hotels and—and—"
"And on oceans liners, I presume! Well, Suzette, here's a proposition. My sister wants a waitress, awfully. Hers has just left. If you will go along with me to my sister's house, she will pay you twice what your previous mistress did."
Patty appeared to consider the question.
"Who is your sister, sir?"
"Mrs. Brewster; she lives in that next place, where you see the red brick chimneys."
Now Patty knew all about the Brewsters, although she had never met them. They were great friends of the Kenerleys, and indeed the whole house party was invited to dine at the Brewsters' the next night. Adele, too, had spoken about Bob Brewster's brother, and Patty realised they were friends and neighbours.
In her present mood, Patty was simply aching for an escapade. And she thought it would be a pretty good practical joke if she should go to Mrs. Brewster's and pretend to be a waitress. She would telephone Adele what she was up to, and they would send another car for her that evening. Perhaps if she had thought another moment she wouldn't have done it, but on the impulse she said. "I'd love to get double wages, sir, and I will go to your sister's, but what about Mrs. Hemingway's car?"
"I will take you over to my sister's first,—it's only a short jump, and then I'll come back and see about this car."
So Patty got out of her own car and into Bob Peyton's, and in a moment they were spinning along toward the red chimneys.
The young man said not a word on the way, and Patty's spirits fell as she began to think she had undertaken a foolish prank, with no fun in it. But she realised that in her role of waitress she could not expect the young man of the house to talk to her, so she sat demurely silent, trying to look as much like a waitress as possible, and succeeding not at all.
On reaching the house, which proved to be a large and elaborate affair, Mr. Peyton drove around to a side door. He ushered Patty into a small waiting-room, and went in search of his sister. Patty heard much gay laughter from the drawing-rooms, and suddenly felt that her joke was not as funny as she had expected. But she determined to carry it a little further and see what might happen.
A charming young woman soon came to her, and said with a pleasant smile, "Is this Suzette?"
"Yes, madame," and Patty's manner was quite all that was to be desired in a waitress.
"I am Mrs. Brewster. My brother has told me the circumstances of his finding you. I am not sure that I'm doing right in taking you away from your present employer, but I'm going to be selfish enough to ask you to help me out for a short time, anyway. I have guests for dinner, and my waitress has gone. My guests are really important people and I was at my wits' end how to manage, until you appeared. If you will only stay and wait on my table at dinner, I will let you do as you choose afterwards,—return to Mrs. Hemingway or remain with me."
The plan seemed to promise some fun to Patty. She would privately telephone Adele, who would tell Jim. It was to be a joke on the rest of them, especially Kit who had said Patty could never fool him. And ever since the Belle Harcourt joke, which had not fooled Kit after all, she wanted to try again. She would make Adele pretend she thought Patty was lost, and both Kit and Philip would be greatly alarmed.
"I will stay for dinner, madame," she said, at last, "and afterward we can decide. You may not like my work."
"I'm sure I shall; you seem capable, and my brother tells me you are experienced. I fear though, your gown is a little,—a little—"
"I understand, madame. You see, this is my Sunday afternoon frock. If I stay with you, I will send for my black ones. Perhaps, if I took off the lace collar now."
"Yes, and the black bow. It is those things that make your garb inappropriate. I will, of course, provide you with an apron and cap. Will you come with me now to the dining-room, and I will show you about your duties."
Mrs. Brewster gave Patty full directions about the serving of the dinner and then provided her with a cap and apron. The trifle of muslin and lace, when perched on Patty's gold curls, was really most becoming; and though she removed her collar and bow, the frilled bretelles of the dainty apron were quite as effective, and Patty looked like the kind of waitress that is seen in amateur plays.
"If not asking too much, madame," she said, "may I telephone to a friend?"
"Is it necessary?" and Mrs. Brewster looked a little surprised.
"It would be polite, I think, madame," returned Patty, with eyes cast down, "as it is to some people with whom I expected to take supper. They will wait for me, I fear?"
"Ah, yes, Suzette, you are right. You may telephone, but I will tell you frankly, I do not like to have my servants make a practice of telephoning to their friends."
"No, madame," and Patty's tone was most humble.
To her great delight the telephone was in a small booth by itself, and
Patty soon made Adele acquainted with the whole story.
Adele was not altogether pleased with the prank, but as she couldn't help herself, she accepted the situation with a good grace, and promised to send for Patty later in the evening.
CHAPTER XX
THE RIDE HOME
Patty stood in the butler's pantry when the guests entered the dining-room for dinner.
She was determined to do her part perfectly, for she knew quite well how everything should be done, and she entered into the spirit of it as if it were a play.
There were eight at the table, and as Patty tripped in to serve the soup she caught the approving glance of Mr. Bob Peyton. She quickly dropped her eyes and proceeded with her duties quietly and correctly. But as she set down the third soup plate, she chanced to look across the table, and met the calm, straightforward gaze of Bill Farnsworth!
She didn't drop the soup-plate or make any awkward movement. Patty was not that sort. She looked down quickly, though it was with difficulty that she prevented the corners of her mouth from breaking into a smile. Immediately she suspected the whole truth. Farnsworth was a guest at this house,—of course he had sent Bob Peyton to her rescue! Or, hadn't he? Could it have been possible that Mr. Peyton found her unexpectedly? She didn't think so. She believed that Little Billee had sent Peyton to her aid, because she had refused his assistance. Of course, Bill had not foreseen the waitress joke, and doubtless he was as much surprised to see her now as she was to see him. Unless Mr. Peyton had told all the guests that he had found a waitress along the road in a stalled motor-car!
Well, at any rate, Patty determined to go on with the farce to the best of her ability. If Farnsworth thought he could rattle her, he was very much mistaken. But she would not look at him again. If he should smile at her, she knew she should smile, for she was on the verge of laughing anyway. So the dinner proceeded. Patty did her part beautifully, serving everything just exactly right and doing everything just as it should be done. And not once during the long dinner, did she catch the eye of either Farnsworth or Mr. Peyton. Once or twice she looked at Mrs. Brewster with a note of inquiry in her eyes, and that lady gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval, so that Patty knew everything was going all right.
At last it was time for Patty to bring in the finger bowls. They stood neatly ranged in readiness for her, and in each one was a pansy blossom.
On the table near the doorway through which Patty went in and out of the dining-room, chanced to be a big bowl of apple blossoms, and Patty appropriated one of these and substituted it for the pansy in the finger bowl which she subsequently placed before Farnsworth.
She did not glance at him, but she had the satisfaction of seeing him start with surprise, and then let his glance travel around the table as if assuring himself that he was the only one thus honoured.
He tried to catch Patty's eye, but she resolutely refrained from looking at him.
After dinner was over, and the guests returned to the drawing-room,
Patty remained in the dining-room, wondering what would happen next.
In a few moments Mrs. Brewster came running out to her.
"You little brick!" she cried; "but, my DEAR child, what MADE you do it?"
"What do you mean, madame?" asked Patty, in her most waitress-like voice.
"What do I mean? You rogue! You scamp! Mr. Farnsworth has told us all about it! I don't know what you mean by this masquerade. But it's over now, and you must come into the drawing-room at once! Take off that apron and cap, and put on your collar and bow again."
"Oh, Mrs. Brewster, I can't go into the drawing-room. All your guests have on their evening things, and this is a morning frock!"
"Nonsense, child, come right along in. You look as sweet as a peach."
"But I say, Ethel," and Bob Peyton bounced out into the dining-room, "Miss Fairfield hasn't had any dinner, herself," and he smiled at Patty. "You see I know all about you. Farnsworth told the whole story. You are miffed with him, I believe, and wouldn't let him help you. So he came right over here and sent me back to help a fair lady in distress. Why you got up that waitress jargon I don't know."
"I don't either," and Patty dimpled roguishly at him. "I have an awful way of cutting up any jinks that happen to pop into my head! You'll forgive me, won't you?"
"I never should have forgiven you if you HADN'T!" and Peyton smiled admiringly into the big blue eyes that implored his forgiveness so sweetly.
"You DEAR child," Mrs. Brewster rattled on, "to think you haven't had a mite of dinner! Now I will get you something."
"No, no, thank you," laughed Patty, "I will confess that I ate all I wanted here in the pantry while the dinner was going on. Cook sent up special portions for me, and I had plenty of time to do justice to them."
"I'm glad of that," said Mrs. Brewster, cordially, "and now, Miss Fairfield, come into the drawing-room. I want my guests to know what a little heroine it is who waited on us at dinner. What a girl you are! I've often heard Adele Kenerley speak of you, and I'm so glad to know you. You must come and make me a visit, won't you, to prove that you forgive me for letting you wait on my table?"
"The pleasure was mine," returned Patty, dropping a pretty curtsy. Then they all went to the drawing-room, where Patty was praised and applauded till she blushed with confusion.
Farnsworth stood leaning against the mantel as she entered the room. He waited till the introductions were over and until the hubbub roused by Patty's story had subsided. Then, as she stood beside her hostess, he went over to her, and said, "What is your greeting for me, Miss Fairfield?"
"I gave you my greeting at the table," said Patty, and she flashed a glance at him from beneath her long lashes.
"WAS it a greeting?"
But before Patty could answer, Mrs. Brewster came to her and said in her enthusiastic way, "Oh, Miss Fairfield, I've been telephoning Mrs. Kenerley and telling her all about it! And what DO you think? She says that she and Jim are the only ones over there who know where you are, and they're pretending they don't know, and all the young people are crazy with anxiety!"
"I suppose I ought to go right home," said Patty, "and relieve their anxiety. But I'd like to stay a little while longer. And, yet, I don't want them to know where I've been, until I get there, and tell them myself."
"Let them wait," said Bob Peyton. "It won't hurt them to worry a little. Now, Miss Fairfield, we're going to have some music, and perhaps,—as you're such an angel of goodness to us anyway,—perhaps you'll sing for us."
They all sang in chorus, and some sang solos, and after awhile it was
Patty's turn.
She had none of her elaborate music with her, so she told Mrs. Brewster she would sing any songs or ballads that she might happen to have.
They found a book of old songs, which Mr. Brewster declared were his favourites, and Patty sang two or three of those.
Among them was the old Scotch song of "Loch Lomond." Patty had never seen this, but as Mr. Brewster was fond of it he urged her to try it. The song was not difficult and Patty read easily, so she made a success of it. As she came to the lines, "I'll take the high road and you take the low road," she glanced at Farnsworth, with a half-smile.
He did not return the smile, but looked at her steadily and with a slightly puzzled expression.
When the song was over, Farnsworth crossed the room and stood by
Patty's side.
"Why do you want to take the high road, if I take the low road?" he asked her, abruptly. He took no pains to lower his tones, and Bob Peyton who stood near heard what he said.
"Because I'm taking the low road, and Miss Fairfield will ride with me, though she won't with you."
Peyton's manner was so light and his smile so gay, that Patty answered in the same key, ignoring Farnsworth's serious face.
"I like to take the road with Mr. Peyton," she answered gaily, "because it leads to such pleasant places," and she smiled at Mrs. Brewster.
"You dear child! You are perfectly fascinating," Mrs. Brewster declared.
"There, there, Ethel, you mustn't tell Miss Fairfield what we all think about her," Peyton interrupted.
And then Patty was called to the telephone.
"You must come home, Patty," Adele's voice said.
"All right, I will, Adele," Patty replied; "but tell me this, does Kit think I'm lost, or anything?"
"No, Patty, he doesn't; but all the rest do. Kit pretends he thinks something has happened to you, but he told me privately that he knew perfectly well that you were all right, and that Jim and I know where you are! Oh, you can't fool HIM. But Mr. Van Reypen is nearly crazy. He says he doesn't think anything dreadful has happened to you, but he thinks you've had a breakdown and can't get home, and he insists on starting out to look for you. If you don't come right away, Patty dear, I can't keep him here much longer!"
"All right, Adele, I'll start at once; truly, I will! Don't send for me. Somebody here will take me over. You know your little runabout is here. I'll come home in that."
"Don't drive it yourself."
"Of course not. Somebody will drive me. I'll be over in fifteen minutes. Good-bye."
Patty hung up the receiver and returned to the drawing-room.
"I must go right straight away," she said, smiling at her hostess. "My joke worked a little too well, and unless I appear they're going to send out a search party after me! I told Adele her little car was here. How did it get here, Mr. Peyton?"
"I went after it and brought it here; instead of taking it to Mrs.
Hammersmith's or whatever her name was!"
"You mean Mrs. Hemingway," said Patty, laughing, "my former mistress, who left me in her car to go in search of help."
"Yes," said Peyton. "Wasn't it lucky I came along? You little thought
Farnsworth sent me, did you?"
"Indeed I didn't!" and Patty smiled at him, "and will you take me home in that little car? for I promised Adele I'd go at once."
"Of course I will," said Bob Peyton, "if you must go."
So Patty was made ready for her drive and Mrs. Brewster insisted she should wear the warm coat as the evening had grown chilly.
The whole crowd went out on the steps to see Patty off, and Mr.
Brewster tucked her in, while Bob Peyton cranked the car.
"All aboard," said Peyton, straightening himself up, at last; and then, somehow,—and Patty never knew how it happened,—somebody jumped into the seat beside her, somebody grasped the steering-wheel, and the little car flew down the road and out at the gate, and even before Patty looked up to see the face of the man beside her, she KNEW it was not Mr. Peyton!
She looked up, and saw smiling at her the blue eyes of Bill Farnsworth.
Mrs. Brewster had tied a chiffon scarf over Patty's hair, and as Patty looked up in Farnsworth's face, the moonlight illumined her own face until she looked more like a fairy than a human being.
"Apple Blossom!" said Big Bill, under his breath. "I never shall find a more perfect name for you than that! Now, tell me what it's all about. Hurry up, we haven't much time."
"But—but I'm so surprised! Why are YOU here, instead of Mr. Peyton?"
"Because I wanted to ride home with you."
"So did he."
Farnsworth shrugged his broad shoulders, as if to say that what Peyton wanted was a matter of utter indifference to him. "Go on," he said briefly, "tell me what it's all about."
"I don't know what you mean! What's all WHAT about?"
"The way you're treating me. The last time I saw you was last winter; at the Hepworths' wedding, to be exact. We were friends then,—good friends. Then I came up here,—yesterday. I threw your own flowers in at your window, and you came and smiled at me and said you were glad to see me. Didn't you?"
"Yes," said Patty, in a faint little voice.
"Yes, you DID. And then,—then, Apple Blossom, when you came down stairs later, playing May Queen, you scarcely looked at me! you scarcely spoke to me! You wouldn't dance with me!"
"But you only asked me because—"
"Don't tell that story again! Because Adele told me to ask you, is utter rubbish, and you know it! That isn't why you wouldn't dance with me. No-sir-ee! You had some other reason, some foolish crazy reason, in your foolish crazy little noddle! Now out with it! Tell me what it is! Own up, Posy-Face. You heard something or imagined something about me, that doesn't please your ladyship, and I have a right to know what it is. At least, I'm going to know, whether I have a right or not. What is it or who is it that has interfered with our friendship?"