Patty—Bride

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER VIII IN THE TEA-ROOM

  The Sunset Tea-room did not belie its name. The draperies anddecorations were of true sunset tints,—gold and amber, with glints ofred, and all most harmonious and effective.

  The quartette found a pleasant table, where the shaded lights cast asoft glow over the pretty appointments, and Helen picked up the menucard with pleased anticipation.

  “You’re just incorrigible, Bumble!” laughed Patty; “you promised meyou’d cut out sweet things for afternoon tea, yet I see you voraciouslydevouring the cake list!”

  “I know it, Patsy Poppet, but today is an exception,——”

  “What day isn’t? All right, girlie, but like Lady Jane in the play‘there will be too much of you in the coming by-and-by!’”

  “There can’t be too much of a good thing!” said Herron, gaily, “so goahead, Miss Barlow, choose all the puff paste and whipped cream youwant.”

  “If I did that, I’d order the whole card,” Helen returned, “and thatwouldn’t do at all.”

  “Like the story of the little pickaninny,” put in Van Reypen; “they saidhe was ill from eating too much watermelon. And a neighbour said, ‘Lawsakes! Dey ain’t no such t’ing as too much watermillion!’ and the replywas, ’Den dere wasn’t enough boy!’”

  “That’s it exactly,” and Helen smiled; “there aren’t too many kinds ofcakes here,—but there isn’t quite enough me!”

  But after some careful consideration, she selected the most irresistibledainties, and the others also made their choice.

  “You never told us the ‘Eagle’ story,” Herron reminded, as they waitedfor their order to be served.

  “That’s so,” said Patty, “what was it, Helen? Didn’t you say it had todo with the end of the war?”

  “That’s as you look at it. Here’s the tale. You see, down at Beverly,just before the close of the Revolution, there appeared a few eagles——”

  “Bald?” inquired Phil.

  “Dunno if they were bald or long-haired or blonde,—but they wereeagles,—real, live American eagles. And they had never been seen in thatlocality before. Well, their appearance heralded the end of theRevolution,—and immediately it ended.”

  “Great!” cried Philip, a little ironically; “it reminds me of the slavewho called out, ‘Oh, King live forever!’ and _immediately_ the Kinglived forever!”

  “I shouldn’t wonder if that’s a better story than mine,” laughed Helen,“but I’ll proceed with mine, as, if I don’t, I may not get it donebefore my cakies come. Well, the Revolution ended, and no eagles wereseen any more at all, in or near Beverly. Until,—near the close of theCivil War, those same eagles appeared in Beverly again!”

  “Sure they were the same ones? Pretty old birds!”

  “Oh, eagles live thousands of years! That’s _nothing_ for an eagle!Anyway, the eagles came, and the Civil War soon came to its close.”

  “Now then for the point of this tale,” said Herron. “Has friend eagleshowed up of late?”

  “He has!” cried Helen triumphantly; “several eagles were seen there lastweek! Now, _I_ believe this war will soon end!”

  “The American eagle is a war-ender, all right!” declared Phil, “and Ihope to goodness, Helen, your pet scheme works out. Just how long afterthe eagles’ arrival is peace declared? Usually, I mean.”

  “That I can’t say. Nor do I swear to the truth of the story. But I tellthe tale as ’twas told to me, and you can take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” said Patty, promptly. “I’m a wee bit superstitious, andI like to think of the eagles appearing as a harbinger of hope ofpeace,—like the Ark dove.”

  “It can’t do any harm to believe it,” and Philip smiled at her; “and itmay do good. If you believed in a thing I’m sure it would make me do so,too, and if a lot of us believe, it might help to make it come true.”

  “Then we’ll all believe,” said Helen, “and I’m sure glad to be themeans,—in a small way,—of helping my country toward peace!”

  “One can scarcely call it _more_ than a small way,” Herron said,mock-judicially, “and yet it’s as much as many of us do. Even if we’rewilling, we can’t perform. I’m ready to fly to the ends of the earth formy old Uncle Sam, but I have to await orders.”

  “And I can’t help feeling glad that you do,” interposed Helen. “Whatwould us girls do without you boys to play with? To be sure, we’ll giveyou up

  “When it’s ‘Ready! Fire!’ and you fire away, And fight ’em to a finish for the U. S. A.”

  “For us, it’s ‘Ready! Fly!’ and we fly away,” and Philip looked eager atthe thought. “I hate to leave my ain fireside, and that of friends andfellow citizens, but there is an urge——”

  “You sound like Sam Blaney!” and Patty laughed. “He was always talkingabout the Cosmic Urge.”

  “That isn’t in it with the Urge of the Flag. Oh, you girls don’t knowthe _thrill_ of feeling that you can be of real help,—however small orinsignificant help it is!”

  Patty gave Phil an admiring glance. She liked this sort of talk andthough she knew of his patriotism, she had rarely heard him express itso strongly.

  “Here’s your cakaroons!” cried Herron, as the tray appeared, and the teaand chocolate were served to them.

  “Now, no war talk, for the moment,” begged Helen. “It does interferewith my enjoyment of my frugal fare, to get stirred up, even bypatriotism.”

  “Let’s talk about our visit at the Club,” said Patty, suddenly. “Did itstrike any of you that Mrs. Doremus was a very strange person?”

  “Did it!” said Philip, with emphasis. “Well, _rather_!”

  “As how?” asked Herron.

  “To begin with, she was no lady,” Van Reypen asserted.

  “Just what do you mean?” pursued Herron.

  “That’s a little harsh,” Patty demurred, “but she certainly actedqueer.”

  “What do you care?” Herron demanded, “she served the purpose ofchaperon, when no one else was there to do so.”

  “Yes, I know. The principal thing I noticed that seemed strange was thatshe didn’t knit!”

  “My goodness gracious! I never thought of that!” exclaimed Herron.

  “Perhaps she couldn’t,” laughed Patty.

  “At least, she could have made a stab at it, which is what most womendo. Oh, you needn’t laugh! I’ve observed them! They spend more timeholding their work off and looking at it, or counting stitches, orpicking back—whatever that is!—or correcting mistakes, or, just pattingand pinching the thing!”

  “You’re right, Mr. Herron,” and Patty laughed at his graphicdescription, which was greatly aided by his dramatic imitation of anervous knitter. “But Mrs. Doremus didn’t even do that. Nor did she sayanything about it,—which was queer, I think.”

  “Yes, it was queer,” agreed Helen, “though I hadn’t thought of itbefore. Oh, Patty! This cream cake is a _dream_!”

  “A dream cake?” suggested Philip, “a cream cake dream cake,—well, what Inoticed especially about our friend and benefactor, was her shoes.”

  Herron looked up quickly.

  “No lady would wear shoes like those!” Van Reypen asserted.

  “I didn’t see them,” said Patty, “her dress was so long. Queer, to havesuch very long skirts, nowadays.”

  “No lady would wear such a long skirt,” Van Reypen went on.

  “Oh, Phil, don’t be so critical,” and Patty shook her head at him. “Mrs.Doremus wasn’t fashionable, I know, nor even very well posted as to achaperon’s duties, but she was kind, and she filled what I think isknown as a long-felt want.”

  “She told me something you haven’t told me, Patty,” and Helen lookedreproachfully at her cousin.

  “What?”

  “She says your Big Bill is coming to New York in February.”

  “She did! A lot she knows about it! She’s a meddlesome Matty,—I think!And, besides, he isn’
t,—’cause why? ’cause if he had been he would havetold his little Patty person!”

  “How’d she know?” asked Philip.

  “Dunno. She may have heard some rumours or had inside information fromsomebody. I thought you’d be glad to hear it, Patty.”

  “I am, if it’s true. But, I never believe good news, till I’m prettypositive. It saves disappointment, lots of times.”

  “Little philosopher!” and Van Reypen gave her a sympathetic glance. “ButI shouldn’t be surprised if that news were true, for I saw something inthe paper this morning that looked like it.”

  “When I get home, I’ll have a letter,” and Patty blushed a little, “andI rather guess I’ll be told, if there’s anything to tell.”

  “Of course you will,” said Herron. “Also, I’d not be surprised if MissFairfield knows more herself than she tells! These letters fromWashington to personal friends are not to be read aloud in themarket-place,—for more reasons than one.”

  Patty looked conscious, but said nothing. Indeed, it was true thatFarnsworth often wrote bits of comment on subjects that Patty knew mustnot be talked over nor his information divulged. And so, she preserved ascrupulous secrecy regarding any war news her letters might hold.

  Also, once in a while, Farnsworth sent Patty a little letter, sealed andenclosed in another. This he sometimes asked her not to open until acertain time, or he asked her to mail it in New York, for secretreasons.

  All of these matters Patty attended to with punctilious care and sheloved to think that she was helping her Little Billee and also hercountry.

  “One doesn’t read one’s love letters aloud,—naturally!” and Patty lookeddown and blushed.

  “Of course not!” cried Helen; “I should say _not_! And especially yours!Oh, I know! You’ve read bits to me now and then, and if what you _omit_is any more—ahem—well, turtle-dovish than what you _do_ read, and I’veno doubt it _is_——”

  “It is,” Patty returned, with unmoved equanimity. “What’s the use ofbeing engaged if one may not be what you call turtle-dovey! I’m not abit embarrassed about it. But for my part, I think Mrs. Doremus wasdecidedly over-curious and forward about me and my affairs.”

  “Unladylike,” put in Van Reypen.

  “How you harp on that word!” exclaimed Patty. “I don’t think it was somuch that, as a lack of good breeding——”

  “Oh, come now, Patty, didn’t you catch on?”

  “Catch on to what?”

  “Why, that Mrs. Doremus was no lady,—because,—she was a man.”

  “What!”

  “She sure was! And I’d like an explanation, Herron. I thought I’d letthe matter pass until I could see you alone, but I think it’s better tohave it out here and now. You brought that person to us, you fixed upthe matter, now tell us about it.”

  George Herron burst into laughter.

  “I own up!” he confessed, “I did it! Alone I did it! Oh, it _was_ ajoke!”

  Patty looked puzzled. “A man?” she said; “masquerading?”

  “Just that, dear lady,” and Herron laughed afresh. “I couldn’t help it!There was no woman on the premises save the housekeeper’s daughter, whowas only a girl of fifteen or so. There was no way to keep you girlsthere for luncheon except by providing a chaperon. So,—I did my best.Don’t look so shocked. It was only a harmless jest. Surely, the quondamchaperon was in no way objectionable; and, as Miss Fairfield admits,she—or he—filled a long-felt want!”

  “But who was she—or he?”

  “One of the Club attendants. He’s on the house force, sort of manager ofthe heating and electricity departments. Well, I was put to it, as youknow, and I was asking him what to do, and he suggested,—or to beaccurate, he fell in with my suggestion,—that he slip into one of thehousekeeper’s gowns and play ’Charley’s Aunt.’ So he did.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Charley’s Aunt’?” asked Helen.

  “That’s an old play, all college chaps know, where a young man playedchaperon just as Munson did today. Not going to be mad about it, areyou, Miss Fairfield?”

  “Of course she isn’t!” cried Helen; “I think it’s a great joke! And, asyou say, we couldn’t have stayed there, otherwise! Oh, Patty, don’t geton your Puritanic high horse! It was only a regard for a convention,anyway, and the convention was regarded!”

  Helen went off in peals of laughter at the reminiscence of the so-calledchaperon. “No wonder he wore a long skirt! To cover up his feet,—ofcourse! And his white wig! Oh, it was perfect! Where did he get a wig sohandy?”

  “It was in a little room where a lot of things are, left, I believe,from some theatrical jinks. Anyway, he said he could make upperfectly,—and he did.”

  “Oh, he did! I think he was fine!”

  “He was fine, Helen, as a masquerader,” said Patty, slowly, “but I don’tthink it was a fine performance,—by any means!” She looked gravely atHerron, who reddened a little, but stood his ground.

  “Oh, come, now, Miss Fairfield, I didn’t mean any harm. Honest, I neverdreamed of offending you, or annoying you,—I thought only of how tomanage to keep you there for our little party. Moreover I thought you’dthink it a great joke,—honest, I did.”

  Herron’s clear brown eyes were so earnest and his expression sotroubled, that Patty’s heart was touched.

  “I don’t doubt it, Mr. Herron,” and she smiled kindly at him, “but itwasn’t just the thing to do,—was it, Phil?”

  “Oh, well, forget it, Pattibelle, and if you can’t forget it—forgive it,anyway. Herron meant no harm and I knew at once, that Dame Doremus,—as Itold you,—was no lady! But I saw through Herron’s motive as well as hisjoke, and there’s no great harm done that I can see.”

  “I agree with Phil,” and Helen nodded her head positively; “I’m jollyglad you did it, for otherwise, I’d have had to come home without anyluncheon!”

  “Than which there could be no worse hardship!” Herron sympathised. “Am Iforgiven, Miss Fairfield?”

  “I’m not sure,” Patty gave him a half smile, “I’ll think it over. Didn’tyou know this man?”

  “Not from Adam! But, you know, you can size up a chap a lot fromappearances, and he was a good sort, and amenable to—well, to argument.”

  “Golden argument,” laughed Philip. “You put it over, all right, Herron,old chap, and I’m sure Miss Fairfield will overlook her chaperon’sextra-sized feet! Had it not been that I noticed those, I might havebeen fooled myself. For the boy,—isn’t he a boy?”

  “About twenty-five or so,—I should judge.”

  “Well, his face was boyish, and his general effect young, yet he donnedage with his wig and gown, and on the whole I call it a remarkable bitof disguise.”

  “No wonder he didn’t knit!” exclaimed Helen. “And no wonder he chokedwhen I proposed that we girls stay there longer!”

  “He acted queerly all the time;” Patty looked thoughtful. “I’m thinkinghe knew too much about me and my affairs.”

  “What are you getting at now, Patty?” Helen asked. “Think he’ll reappearin his proper person, and presume on our acquaintance?”

  “No,” said Patty, “I’m afraid he _won’t_!”

  Van Reypen looked at her.

  “Of course, the chap’s all right, eh, Herron? Credentials, and that?”

  “Must be or they wouldn’t have him in the Club.”

  “There are spies everywhere,” said Patty, in a whisper.

  “Oh, Pitty-Pat!” cried Helen, “is _that_ what’s troubling you? Well,well! Those letters you get from Washington do sure go to your head! Isee it, now, people! Bill tells Patty to look out for spies, and so,—shesees them everywhere!”

  “Spies in the brooks, spies in the pastry-cooks!” exclaimed Herron, andHelen giggled.

  “Yes, and I shouldn’t wonder if Patty suspects every one of us!”

  “You needn’t laugh,” and Patty shook her curly head. “There _is_ danger,isn’t there, Phil?”

  “Of course, ch
ild. But even if this bad Mrs. Doremus was a spy,—shelearned nothing from us, today.”

  “She—he asked a heap of questions.”

  “But nothing of any importance. It seems to me that,—Munson, is that hisname?—only showed such curiosity as would become an elderly lady talkingwith two charming girls. You practically told her—him,—of yourengagement, Patty, so you mustn’t wonder that he showed some interest.”

  “I s’pose so. Well, we won’t say anything more about it. I’m foolish, Isuppose,—but I don’t like that sort of thing.”

  “Then I apologise,” said Herron, heartily; “I’m truly sorry I did it,but I ask you to believe that I would not have done it, had it occurredto me for a moment that you would feel about it as you do.”

  “I do believe that,” and Patty’s blue eyes shone with forgiveness andunderstanding. “I know, Mr. Herron, that you really did it out of thekindest motives, and I exonerate you——”

  “Wow! what a big word!” cried Helen. “If you’re exonerated, Mr. Herron,surely you can’t ask for more! Why, I thought to be ex—what do you callit? was what the Pope does!”

  “No, my child, that’s to be excommunicated, and Mr. Herron shan’t bethat!” And Patty beamed full forgiveness on the culprit.