Just Patty

by Jean Webster

  An insistent tapping sounded on the window. She glanced across an angle, to find Osaki, the Japanese butler, leaning far out from his pantry window, and extending toward her a dinner plate containing a large, lone slab of turkey.

  "Leave plate in wastebasket, Missy," he whispered hoarsely.

  Patty, for an instant, struggled with dignity and martyrdom, but hunger and a love of intrigue triumphed. She tiptoed over and received the offering. There was no knife or fork, but primitive methods suffice in a case of real starvation. She finished the turkey and buried the plate beneath a pile of algebra papers. It was Osaki's daily business to empty the wastebasket; the plate in due course would be restored to its shelf.

  A few moments later a scurrying footfall sounded at the door, and a little Junior A. darted to Patty's side. She cast a conspiratorial glance over her shoulder as she drew from a bulging blouse two buttered rolls.

  "Take 'em quick!" she panted. "I must hurry back, or they'll suspect. I asked to be excused to get a handkerchief. Keep up your courage. We won't let you starve. It's splendid!"

  She thrust the rolls into Patty's lap and vanished.

  Patty found it comforting to know that the school was with her. The attractions of martyrdom are enhanced by the knowledge of an audience. Also, the rolls were a grateful addition to the turkey; her five-hour appetite was still insistent. She finished one of them and was about to begin on the second, when furtive footfalls sounded behind her, and one of the maids slipped a paper plate over her shoulder.

  "Here's some fresh gingerbread, Miss Patty. Cook says--"

  The sound of a closing door startled her, and she scurried off like a detected thief.

  Patty placed her second roll in the wastebasket in company with the turkey plate, and was just starting on the gingerbread, when a scrambling sounded at the end window. A blue hat appeared momentarily over the sill, its owner boosted from below, and an unidentified hand sent an orange rolling down the center aisle. Patty hastily intercepted its course and dropped it into the wastebasket. Luncheon would be over momentarily, and a visit from Miss Lord was imminent. This influx of supplies was growing embarrassing.

  She heard the rising flood of talk as the girls poured from the dining-room. She knew that sympathetic groups were viewing her from the open doors behind. Judging from the ceaseless shuffle of footsteps, all Saint Ursula's had errands that led past the schoolroom door. Patty did not cast a glance behind, but with rigid shoulders stared into space. Presently a rattling sounded above her head. She raised startled eyes to a register set in the ceiling, and saw Irene McCullough's anxious face peering through the opening.

  "You can live for days on chocolates," came in a stage whisper. "I'm awfully sorry there's only half a pound; I ate the rest last night."

  The register was lifted out, and a box was swiftly lowered by a string. Irene was chief of the scabs.

  "Thank you, Irene," Patty returned in a haughty stage whisper. "I do not care to accept any--"

  Miss Lord's voice became audible in the hall.

  "I thought, young ladies, that afternoon recreation was to be spent out of doors?"

  Patty just had time to snatch the box and drop it in her lap, with an open essay book above, when Miss Lord advanced into the room. Patty's face assumed an air of suffering stoicism, as she stared ahead, in the profound hope that Irene would have sense enough to remove eight feet of dangling string. Miss Lord was followed by Osaki, carrying a tray with two slices of dry bread and a glass of water.

  "Have you finished your Latin, Patty?"

  "No, Miss Lord."

  "Why not?"

  "I am going to do to-morrow's lesson in afternoon study hour."

  Patty's tone was respectful, but her meaning was clear. She emphasized slightly the word "to-morrow."

  "You will do the twenty lines immediately."

  A speaking silence from Patty.

  "Do you hear me?"

  "Yes, Miss Lord."

  "Well?" The monosyllable was sharp enough to cut.

  "I stand by my principles," said Patty. "I am not a scab."

  [Illustration: Patty just had time to snatch the box]

  "You may sit here until those twenty lines are finished."

  "Very well, Miss Lord."

  "I do not wish you to suffer. Here is bread and water."

  She motioned Osaki to set down the tray.

  Patty waved it aside.

  "I am not a convict," she said with dignity. "I refuse to eat until I am served properly at the dining-room table."

  A fleeting grin replaced for a moment Osaki's Oriental calm. Miss Lord set the bread on a neighboring desk, and the two withdrew.

  All through recreation and afternoon study, Patty sat at her desk, the plate of bread conspicuously untouched at her elbow. Then the five-o'clock bell rang, and the girls trooped out and dispersed on their various businesses. The hour between afternoon study and dressing bell, was the one hour of the day entirely their own. Patty could hear them romping up the back stairs, and racing through the corridors. Kid McCoy was conducting a pillow fight in Paradise Alley above her head. Groups passed the schoolroom window with happy calls and laughter. Pepper and Tabasco, the two riding horses, were saddled and brought out. She could see the girls taking turns in galloping around the oval, while Martin, as ringmaster, waved his whip and urged them on. Martin now was bent with rheumatism, but in his far-off reckless youth he had been a cowboy, and when he taught the girls to ride, it was with a disregard of broken bones that dismayed even the adventurous gymnasium teacher. Patty was his star pupil; she could stick on Red Pepper's back with nothing but a blanket to hold her. It was only very occasionally, when Martin was in a propitious mood, that the horses were saddled for mere public amusement. Patty's heart was sore as she watched Priscilla and Conny, her two dearest friends, disport themselves regardless of their incarcerated mate.

  It grew dusk; nobody came to furnish a light, and Patty sat in the semi-darkness, her head bent wearily on her arms. Finally she heard footsteps in the hall, and Miss Sallie entered and closed the door behind her. Patty braced herself anew; one needed keen wits to match the "Dragonette."

  Miss Sallie had been talking with Miss Lord, and she was inclined to think that Patty needed chastisement of a rare sort; but it was her practice to hear both sides. She drew up a chair, and commenced with business-like directness.

  "See here, Patty, what is the meaning of all this nonsense?"

  Patty raised reproachful eyes.

  "Nonsense, Miss Sallie?"

  "Yes, nonsense! Miss Lord says that you refused to learn the lesson that she assigned, and that you incited the rest of the girls to mutiny. You are one of the most able pupils in the class, and your failure to finish the lesson is nothing in the world but stubbornness. If it were Rosalie Patton now, there might be some sense in it."

  "I don't think you understand," said Patty gently.

  "It might be well for you to explain," suggested Miss Sallie.

  "I must stand by my principles."

  "By all means!" Miss Sallie affably agreed. "And what are your principles?"

  "To hold out for sixty lines of Virgil. It isn't because I want to strike, Miss Sallie. It would be much easier for me to do the eighty lines, but that wouldn't be fair to Rosalie. The working day should not be gaged by the capacity of the strongest. Miss Lord will flunk Rosalie if the rest of us don't take care of her. Upon the solidarity of labor depends the welfare of the individual worker. It is the fight of the oppressed against the encroachments of--of--er--organized authority."

  "Um--I see!--I really begin to believe that you listened to that lecture, Patty."

  "Of course I listened," Patty nodded, "and I must say that I am awfully disappointed in Miss Lord. She told us to apply our knowledge of sociology to the problems of our daily lives, and when we do, she backs down. But anyway, we intend to maintain the strike, until she is ready to meet our just demands. It isn't through selfish motives that I am acting, Mis
s Sallie. I should a lot rather have something to eat and go horseback riding. I am fighting for the cause of my suffering sisters."

  The ceiling above shook at the impact, as four of her suffering sisters came down on top of one another, while the walls resounded with their shrieks and laughter.

  Miss Sallie's lip twitched, but she controlled herself and spoke with serious gravity.

  "Very well, Patty, I am glad to know that this unprecedented behavior is caused by charitable motives. I am sure that when Miss Lord fully understands the case she will feel gratified. Suppose I act as intermediary and lay the matter before her? We may be able to arrive at an--er--compromise."

  The half hour that followed dinner was usually devoted to dancing in the big square hall, but to-night the girls were inclined to stand about in groups with furtive glances toward the schoolroom. A conference was going on inside. Miss Lord, the Dowager and the Dragonette had passed in and shut the door. Kid McCoy, returning from Paradise Alley, where she had been stretched on her stomach with her face to the register, reported that Patty had fainted through lack of food, that the Dowager had revived her with whiskey, and that she had come to, still cheering for the Union. Kid McCoy's statements, however, were apt to be touched by imagination. The school was divided in its opinion of Patty's course. The scabs were inclined to make light of her achievement, but Conny and Priscilla staunchly fanned enthusiasm.

  Finally, the schoolroom door opened, and the faculty emerged and passed into the Dowager's private study, while the dancing commenced with sudden fervor. No one to-day liked to be caught by Miss Lord whispering in a corner.

  Patty followed alone. Her face was pale, and there were weary circles about her eyes, but in them shone the light of victory.

  "Patty!"

  "Are you dead?"

  "How'd it come out?"

  "It was perfectly splendid!"

  "Was she furious?"

  "What did she say?"

  "We arbitrated the question and have settled on a compromise," Patty replied with quiet dignity. "Hereafter the lesson will be seventy lines. The Virgil strike is declared off."

  They pressed about her eager for details, but she separated herself, and kept on toward the dining-room door. There was an aloofness about her, an air of having experienced the heights alone. She was not quite ready to rub shoulders with common humanity.

  The school settled itself to evening study, and Patty to her dinner. They could see her across the court, through the lighted window, as she sat in state at the end of a long table. Osaki on one side, tendered preserved strawberries, and Maggie on the other, frosted cakes. The rewards of martyrdom, in Patty's case, were solidly substantial.

  * * *

  IV

  The Third Man from the End

  "Oh, Patty! Did you bring us some wedding cake?"

  "Did you have any adventures?"

  Conny and Priscilla, with the dexterity of practice, sprang upon the rear step of the hearse as it turned in at the school gate, and rolled up the curving drive to the porte-cochère. The "hearse" was the popular name for the black varnished wagonette which conveyed the pupils of St. Ursula's from church and station. It was planned to accommodate twenty. Patty and her suit-case, alone in the capacious interior, were jolting about like two tiny peas in a very big pod.

  "Adventures!" she called back excitedly. "Wait till you hear!"

  As they came to a stop, they were besieged by a crowd of blue-coated girls. It was afternoon recreation, and the whole school was abroad. The welcome that she received, would have led an onlooker to infer that Patty had been gone three months instead of three days. She and her two postilions descended, and Martin gathered up his reins.

  "Come on, youse! All who wants a ride to the stables," was his hospitable invitation.

  It inundated him with passengers. They crowded inside--twice as many as the hearse would hold--they swarmed over the driver's seat and the steps; and two equestriennes even perched themselves on the horses' backs.

  "What's the adventure?" demanded Conny and Priscilla in a breath, as the cavalcade rattled off.

  Patty waved her hand toward the suit-case.

  "There it is. Take it upstairs. I'll be with you as soon as I've reported."

  "But that isn't your suit-case."

  Patty shook her head mysteriously.

  "If you tried a thousand years you'd never guess who owns it."

  "Who?"

  Patty laughed.

  "Looks like a man's," said Conny.

  "It is."

  "Oh, Patty! Don't be so exasperating. Where'd you get it?"

  "Just a little souvenir that I picked up. I'll tell you as soon as I've interviewed the Dowager. Hurry, and slip in while Jelly isn't looking."

  They cast a quick glance over their shoulders toward the gymnasium instructor, who was arguing fat Irene McCullough into faster movements on the tennis court. Miss Jellings was insistent that "recreation" should be actively pursued out of doors. The two could easily have obtained permission to greet Patty's return inside; but it was the policy of the trio never to ask permission in minor matters. It wasted one's credit unnecessarily.

  Priscilla and Conny turned upstairs lugging the suit-case between them, while Patty approached the principal's study. Ten minutes later she joined her companions in Seven, Paradise Alley. They were sitting on the bed, their chins in their hands, studying the suit-case propped on a chair before them.

  "Well?" they inquired in a breath.

  "She says she's glad to see me back, and hopes I didn't eat too much wedding cake. If my lessons show any falling off--"

  "Who owns it?"

  "The man with the black eyebrows and the dimple in his chin who sang the funny songs third from the end on the right hand side."

  "Jermyn Hilliard, Junior?" Priscilla asked breathlessly.

  "Not really?" Conny laid her hand on her heart with an exaggerated sigh.

  "Truly and honest!" Patty turned it over and pointed to the initials on the end. "J. H., Jr."

  "It is his!" cried Priscilla.

  "Where on earth did you get it, Patty?"

  "Is it locked?"

  "Yes," Patty nodded, "but my key will open it."

  "What's in it?"

  "Oh, a dress suit, and collars, and--and things."

  "Where'd you get it?"

  "Well," said Patty languidly, "it's a long story. I don't know that I have time before study hour--"

  "Oh, tell us, please. I think you're beastly!"

  "Well--the glee club was last Thursday night."

  They nodded impatiently at this useless piece of information.

  "And it was Friday morning that I left. As I was listening to the Dowager's parting remarks about being inconspicuous and reflecting credit on the school by my nice manners, Martin sent in word that Princess was lame and couldn't be driven. So instead of going to the station in the hearse, I went with Mam'selle in the trolley car. When we got in, it was cram full of men. The entire Yale Glee Club was going to the station! There were so many of them that they were sitting in each other's laps. The whole top layer rose, and said perfectly gravely and politely: 'Madame, take my seat.'

  "Mam'selle was outraged. She said in French, which of course they all understood, that she thought American college boys had disgraceful manners; but I smiled a little--I couldn't help it, they were so funny. And then two of the bottom ones offered their seats, and we sat down. And you'll never believe it, but the third man from the end was sitting right next to me!"

  "Not really?"

  "Oh, Patty!"

  "Is he as good-looking near to, as he was on the stage?"

  "Better."

  "Are those his real eyebrows or were they blacked?"

  "They looked real but I couldn't examine them closely."

  "Of course they're real!" said Conny indignantly.

  "And what do you think?" Patty demanded. "They were going on my train. Did you ever hear of such a coincidence?"

  "
What did Mam'selle think of that?"

  "She was as flustered as an old hen with one chicken. She put me in charge of the conductor with so many instructions, that I know he felt like a newly engaged nursemaid. The Glee Club men rode in the smoking-car, except Jermyn Hilliard, Junior, and he followed me right into the parlor car and sat down in the chair exactly opposite."

  "Patty!" they cried in shocked chorus. "You surely didn't speak to him?"

  "Of course not. I looked out of the window and pretended he wasn't there."

  "Oh!" Conny murmured disappointedly.

  "Then what happened?" Priscilla asked.

  "Nothing at all. I got out at Coomsdale, and Uncle Tom met me with the automobile. The chauffeur took my suit-case from the porter and I didn't see it near to at all. We reached the house just at tea time, and I went straight in to tea without going upstairs. The butler took up my suit-case and the maid came and asked for the key so she could unpack. That house is simply running over with servants; I'm always scared to death for fear I'll do something that they won't think is proper.

  "All the ushers and bridesmaids were there, and everything was very jolly, only I couldn't make out what they were talking about half the time, because they all knew each other and had a lot of jokes I couldn't understand."

  Conny nodded feelingly.

  "That's the way they acted at the seaside last summer. I think grown people have horrid manners."

  "I did feel sort of young," Patty acknowledged. "One of the men brought me some tea and asked what I was studying in school. He was trying to obey Louise and amuse little cousin, but he was thinking all the time, what an awful bore it was talking to a girl with her hair braided."

  "I told you to put it up," said Priscilla.

  "Just wait!" said Patty portentously. "When I went upstairs to dress for dinner, the maid met me in the hall with her eyes popping out of her head.

  "'Beg pardon, Miss Patty,' she said. 'But is that your suit-case?'

  "'Yes,' I said, 'of course it's my suit-case. What's the matter with it?'