Patty Blossom

"Yes, do, Patty; it's just in your line, and you can do it a whole lot better than that girl did last year,—you know whom I mean, Ethel."

"Yes, Ray Rose–"

"Ray Rose," said Patty, "what a pretty name!"

"Pretty girl, too," said Ethel Merritt, who was calling at Pine Laurel. "Also, she isn't going to like it any too well to have Miss Fairfield take her part."

"Oh, is it her part?" asked Patty; "then I won't take it."

"Yes, you will. It's all right. Nobody wants her and everybody wants you."

The subject under discussion was a "Society Circus" to be performed by the young people of Lakewood, and of great interest to all concerned.

It was a few days after the Spring Beach trip. Mona had gone back home and Philip also, and Roger was in New York. Elise was greatly enthusiastic over the circus plan, and was managing committees, and arranging details in her usual capable fashion. The affair was a charity benefit under the auspices of a philanthropic society that gave some such entertainment every winter. Patty, always ready for any gaiety, was preparing to take part, though the scheme was a new one to her. She had never been in a society circus, and wanted the matter thoroughly explained.

"It isn't much to explain, Miss Fairfield," Ethel said; "you see, everybody is an animal or a clown or a bareback rider, or something that belongs to a circus. Bob Riggs is ringmaster, and they all obey him. He's awfully funny, and whatever he has to do with, is sure to be a success."

"Tell me more about my part," said Patty; "how do I dress?"

"Well, you see, you're Mlle. Hooperino, and you do fancy dancing and jump through paper hoops–"

"What! Oh, I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can; Bob will show you how. Why, anybody who dances as you do, can do anything of that sort. And your costume is anything you like, in the way of tulle skirts, lots of 'em, and a satin bodice, laced up, you know, and a dinky little cap, and,—oh, anything you think fetching and attractive."

"It sounds fun," Patty agreed, "but what about Miss Rose? I don't want to disappoint her; will she feel annoyed?"

"She sure will! But never mind that. As soon as Bob saw you dance the other night, he said you were the one for the part. You must do it."

"And Ray Rose hasn't been asked this year," put in Elise. "She can't resent your taking what she never had."

"She will, though," declared Ethel. "She looks upon that part as hers, and she won't like Miss Fairfield's having it one bit. But that doesn't matter. What Bob says, goes; and that's all there is about that!"

They talked over the costumes and dances until every question was settled, and Ethel went away with Patty's promise to do what was requested of her.

"But I don't like it," Patty demurred, "on account of that Rose girl.

What is she like, Elise?"

"Oh, she's the jolliest thing in the world. She won't get mad at you,—she isn't that sort. But I know what she will do. She'll try to 'get even,' you know,—do something to pay you out for stealing her glory."

"What'll she do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some practical joke, like as not. She's a sort of kid, although she's nineteen years old."

"All right, if she's that sort, I'm not afraid of her. I thought she was haughty and sarcastic."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. She's full of mischief and awfully good-natured. But she'll resent Bob's putting you in her place. Don't think of it, Patty. It's all a trifle. She'll have some other part, just as good."

"Very well, I'll turn me thinks toward me frock. What say to pale blue tulle, with silver lace by way of trimmin's?"

"Fine! And after you get yours all planned will you help me with mine?"

"Will I! I live but for that! You, my Elise, must wear corn colour, or, say, maize colour, and poppies."

"Yes, now that you speak of it, that's just what I want. Shall us ask Philip down, Patty?"

"No; I'd like to have one time of my life without his revered presence."

"Look here, Patty, between you and me and the circus, aren't you expecting to be the eventual Mrs. Philip?"

"Oh, Elise, don't bother me about such far-away eventualities."

"All right, I won't, 'cause I know all about that. You're trying him out, and if he passes his exams, you're going to say yes, pretty soon, now."

"Good gracious! I believe my loving friends know more about my affairs than I do myself!"

"If we didn't we wouldn't know much! You are the most wabbly-hearted person I ever knew! Say, Pats, what did you do to big Bill Farnsworth to send him flying off out West again?"

"I?" and Patty opened her blue eyes wide at Elise.

"Yes, you, you saucer-eyed doll! One day, he was shining brightly all over the place, and the next, he was like a thunder cloud, and departed straightway for the wild and woolly."

"Oh, well, Elise, I can't feel sure that it's precisely your affair; but, as you show a polite interest, I don't mind telling you that we quarrelled."

"About Philip Van Reypen."

"Clairvoyant! Well, if you will have it so,—yes."

"Oh, Patty, then you do like Phil better than Mr. Farnsworth!"

"Do I?"

"You must! or you never would have sent one away because of the other. And, Patty, you did just right. Phil Van Reypen is worth a dozen of that Western giant. He's nice, Mr. Farnsworth is, but Philip is so much more—oh,—aristocratic and—and smart-looking, you know."

"Bill is smart enough," said Patty, thoughtfully.

"I don't mean smart in the sense of clever, but–"

"I know; you mean well-dressed and fashionable."

"Yes, and correct-mannered, and generally all round a gentleman."

"Bill Farnsworth is a gentleman."

"Of course. But not the polished type Philip is. He's an aristocrat."

"Oh, fiddlestrings. I'm sick and tired of hearing that Phil Van Reypen is an aristocrat! If I were an aristocrat, I'd try to hide it! Anyway, I wouldn't advertise it all the time!"

"Patty! you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Phil doesn't advertise it!"

"Well, he doesn't employ you to do it for him, either, so you may as well stop it. I know all about Phil's aristocracy. And it's all right. I never said it wasn't. But a man has got to be something more than an aristocrat before I can fall desperately in love with him. And I must be desperately in love with the man I promise to marry."

Patty spoke seriously, and her blue eyes took on a violet light as she looked out of the window and far away to the sky beyond the pine trees.

"Of course, you must, Patty. Every girl feels that way. But when Phil adores you so, how can you resist him?"

"Now, now, Elise, don't ask leading questions. And, also, let's turn the tables. When a certain nice young man that I wot of, so adores you, how can you resist him?"

"I don't know that I shall," replied Elise, blushing.

"Oho! Bad as that, eh? Now I see why you're so interested in my affairs of the heart. Misery loves company."

"But I'm not miserable."

"No, of course not. Howsumever, if you insist on asking Philip Van down to the circus, I shall advise asking one Mr. Kit Cameron."

"You're a day behind the fair! I've asked him and he can't come."

"Too bad. But, just for that, I won't have Phil, either. Then we can both be heart-whole and fancy free."

"All right. Bob Riggs has taken a large and elegant notion to you, and I am engaged in the pleasant pastime of subjugating Hal Merritt, so we shan't want for rustic swains."

"As if we ever had! But as for me, this circus business seems a piece of work, and I must apply myself to it, or rejoice in a failure at the eventful moment."

"You're right. Let's go over to Mme. Beauvais' and see about her making our costumes."

"Come on, we'll go now."

The next few days the girls devoted all their time to their costumes and to rehearsals for the circus. It was a more elaborate affair than Patty had anticipated, and the men who were to represent animals had marvellous suits of fur that closely imitated the real thing in wild beasts.

A bear, who was ordinarily Jack Fenn, captivated Patty from the first, and when she proposed to dance with him, Bob Riggs caught at the idea.

"Capital!" he cried, "just the thing, Miss Fairfield. Hit of the evening, I assure you. Come, begin your rehearsal at once."

It was not easy, for the bear costume made its wearer clumsy and he awkwardly tripped and nearly upset Patty. But she good-naturedly tried the steps over and over until they began to do better.

"It'll right itself after a few more rehearsals," she said, encouragingly. "Come over to the Farringtons' mornings, and we'll get a little extra practice."

Fenn did so, and, as they perfected the dance, all who saw it prophesied it would be the hit of the whole affair.

And everybody was pleased save and except Ray Rose. She had taken quietly enough the substitution of Patty for herself as première danseuse, and had even said she preferred the part that had been assigned her. But when the Bear dance began to be talked about with such enthusiasm, she commenced to find fault.

"How did you happen to worm yourself into my place, Miss Fairfield?" she said at a rehearsal. "Did you make up this Bear foolery?"

"I'm afraid I did, Miss Rose," returned Patty, smiling. "You've no criticism to make, have you?"

"None, except that I wanted that part that Mr. Riggs saw fit to give you, and I'm madder'n hops 'cause I haven't got it."

"Why, I'll give it to you," and Patty smiled at the pouting girl.

"Oh, you can't do that now, it's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner that you wanted it?"

"Never s'posed you'd give it up, or I would have. But I'll get even with you!"

"Now, don't talk like that, for it wasn't my fault that Mr. Riggs selected me for the part."

"Well, it was your fault that you took it, and it will be my fault if I don't make you pay for it!"

"Is this a threat?"

"It most certainly is. What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing at all,—unless it is carried out. Then I shall defend myself to the best of my ability. I'm good-natured,—and I am told you are,—but I've no intention of being annoyed unjustly, and you'll find that out, Miss Ray Rose! By the way, what a pretty name you have."

"Do you like it? It's really Ramona, but I've always been called Ray. I like you a lot, Miss Fairfield, and I'd be sorry to annoy you, but,—well, perhaps because I do like you so much,—I warn you, I'm going to get ahead of you on this circus program, if I can."

"You're a little goose," said Patty, laughing outright at the determined face and snapping black eyes of Ray Rose. "I do believe you want to cut up some trick on me, because I stole your part, or it seems to you I did, and yet, you rather like me, and hate to do it, after all."

"How did you know?" cried Ray Rose, astonished. "That's exactly what was in my mind! Well, honest, if I can conquer my desire to get even with you, I'll let you alone. But I feel pretty sure I shall do your act myself."

"You are the queerest girl I ever saw!" and Patty looked her astonishment. "Your frankness and your slyness together are the funniest combination! Just for your queer cleverness, I give you permission to get my place from me if you can! But don't forget I offered it to you."

"That's nothing. Bob Riggs wouldn't let me take it. But if I get it in some way that he can't help himself, remember that you told me I might."

Patty was greatly amused at this conversation, but as other and more important matters quickly demanded her attention, she promptly forgot the whole matter.

The circus proper was to be an evening entertainment, but in the afternoon of the same day, the entire cast of characters marched up and down the streets as an advertisement, hoping to attract attention and rouse curiosity to such an extent that the attendance at the evening performance would be large.

The animals presented a fearsome sight. Lions, bears, tigers, monkeys, a giraffe and a donkey, were followed by clowns, acrobats, trapeze performers, and jugglers.

Patty, as première danseuse, rode in a gilded chariot drawn by four gaily caparisoned white horses. She sat enthroned on a high seat, and waved smiling greetings as she passed.

Ray Rose, in Pierrette costume, was gay and good-natured, and chummed up with Patty, in evident forgetfulness of any ill-feeling.

"She's all right," Patty said to Elise, as they went home after the parade, and prepared to rest up a little before the evening performance.

Patty had no sooner reached her room than she was called to the telephone. The speaker was Ray Rose.

"Excuse me, Miss Fairfield, but I do want to speak to you a minute. I think my Pierrette act would be a whole lot prettier, if I had a few Highland Fling steps in it, don't you?"

"I do," Patty replied, after a moment's consideration. "Put them in after the one-step movement."

"Yes, that's what I meant. May I run over to your house a minute, and will you show me about the Fling? It won't take a jiffy."

"Yes, of course. Will you come right away?"

"I will. But, oh, pshaw,—I'm all dressed in my Pierrette rig; wouldn't you,—couldn't you come here instead? I'll send the car, it won't take any time at all."

"Why, yes, I can come over, and I will, if you want me to so much." Patty ran to tell Elise she was going, but Elise was not in her room, so Patty went downstairs to look for her. Before she saw Elise, or indeed any one else, the Rose car came, a little runabout, with only the chauffeur.

Flinging a motor coat from the hall-rack around her, Patty ran out the door and jumped into the car.

In a moment she was at Ray Rose's house, and the girl herself stood smiling in the doorway.

"Good for you!" she cried, "you're a duck! Come right up to my room."

Patty followed Ray, who ran lightly up stairs, and threw open the door of her bedroom.

"What a lovely room!" Patty exclaimed, as she entered a dainty nest all pink and white.

"Yes, isn't it?" agreed Ray, and they stepped inside. "Sit down a minute," she went on, "I want to get another scarf. I'll be right back."

Patty threw herself into a low wicker chair, and, gently closing the door behind her, Ray disappeared.

CHAPTER VII

A CLEVER PLAN

Patty waited, thinking over the coming performance and mentally rehearsing her part. It was not really difficult, but it was tricky, for unless she sprang through the paper-covered hoops at just the right moment, it would be an awkward blunder. However, after many rehearsals, she felt pretty sure of herself, and looked forward with pleasure to the fun.

She glanced round Ray's room. It was full of attractive odds and ends in addition to its furniture and regular appointments, which were of the most elaborate description. Rising, Patty examined some of the pictures and ornaments, and became so engrossed, that the minutes flew by unnoticed. On the dressing-table was a silver-framed clock, and a tinkling chime rang out from it, before Patty had given a thought to the hour. Quarter-past seven! And the performance was scheduled for half-past eight. She had waited there for Ray nearly fifteen minutes. It was very queer. What could have detained her?

Patty waited restlessly for five minutes longer, and then determined to go in search of Ray. She turned the doorknob, but the door would not open! Like a flash the explanation came to her. She was locked in! Ray had done it, in fulfilment of her threat to "get even" with Patty.

The summons over there had been a blind, to trick her into the room, and now she was locked in!

Patty smiled at the silly ruse. The matter couldn't be serious,—she could certainly get out some way, and get home in time to don her costume and get to the circus, even if a little late. Unwilling to cause unnecessary disturbance, she looked round the room to note the exits. There was but one other door and that led to a dressing-room, which in turn had a door opening into a bathroom. That was all. No more doors were to be seen. The windows had no balconies, and being on the second floor, there was no chance of escape thereby.

Patty looked around for a telephone, but saw none. She thought such an elaborate household would have many of them, but realised that Ray probably had a sitting-room or boudoir in addition to these rooms and her telephone would be there. Patty knew the girl was an only child of doting parents, and that she was spoiled and pampered to an inordinate degree.

Patty considered. Doubtless Mr. and Mrs. Rose were not at home, or, if they were, they would not answer a call, for Ray would have looked after that. The servants, likewise, must have been ordered not to release Patty, for Ray Rose was not one to do anything by halves, and if she had planned to get Patty over there, she had also planned to keep her there.

It was ridiculous, it was maddening,—but it was true. Patty was locked in a room and could not get out. She hadn't heard a key turn, but it must have done so. Peeping in the keyhole, she could see that the key was in the lock, from the hall side.

Endeavouring to use her ingenuity, Patty tried to turn the key from her side by means of a button-hook, a nail file, a hairpin, and a glove stretcher. Needless to say her attempts were unsuccessful.

"I've heard of turning a key in its own lock," she mused, but she found the feat impossible of achievement.

Again the chiming little timepiece reminded her that another quarter hour had flown.

"Half-past seven!" she thought. "My dear Miss Fairfield, you have got to do something pretty quick! Get busy! What would your favourite heroes of wild romance do to get out of such a fix as this?"

When Patty was baffled, she always talked to herself. But her appeals to herself or her ingenuity did no good, and after a thorough search for a means of exit, she concluded to call out. She felt it was an undignified thing to do, and, too, she felt it would do no good, but there was no other course to pursue, that she could see.

So she called, gently at first, and then more loudly, but, as she had anticipated, there was no response. Going close to the door, she called again and again, and then concluded it was useless.

She threw herself into an easy chair, thoroughly angry with Ray Rose, and chagrined at herself for being led into such a trap.

"I might have known there was some trickery," she thought, "when that girl called me over here at the last minute. And she was so sweet and friendly today, it should have put me on my guard. Elise warned me, but I never dreamed of anything like this. However, now is no time to worry over that, I must get out,—that's what I must do, get out!"

But it seemed hopeless. The case was so simple, that there was no opportunity for ingenious schemes. There she was, in the beautiful room, with the only exit to the house, the hall door, securely locked. The door was of solid mahogany, the knob and lock of a most secure firmness. Had it been a light or flimsy door, Patty would have rattled and shaken it, but this door was solid as a rock. Either, she would have to think up some clever plan, and that quickly, or spend the entire evening there in solitude. Her quick mind took in these alternatives, and she thought that if no idea presented itself soon, she would succumb to the inevitable, and quietly settle down for the evening. There were pleasant-looking books about, soft couches and pillows, convenient reading-lamps, and even a box of chocolates on a table. Matters might be worse, thought philosophical Patty. But she hated to give up,—to acknowledge herself beaten.

Once again she opened a window, and looked out. It was on the side of the house, and toward the rear.

The house was not set back far from the street; indeed, the sidewalk was not more than forty feet from the window out of which Patty leaned. An idea came to her, and going quickly to the table she found a sheet of paper and a pencil. There was no desk in the room, and she felt herself lucky to find these things at all. She hastily scribbled a note, but she made it urgent and definite. Then she looked around for a missile which she could throw to the street. There were few things that were available, and she finally selected a heavy hairbrush as the best. It was of ivory and bore a bold monogram, as did the rest of Ray's toilet appointments, but Patty took it unhesitatingly, as she had reached the limit of her patience and consideration.

She tied the note firmly to the brush, and leaning far out of the window, waited for a promising passer-by. At last, a young man came along, and Patty deftly threw the brush so that it landed at his very feet. Practice at basketball and other such sports had made her accurate of aim and as the astonished man saw the brush, he naturally picked it up.

Patty watched him take off the note and read it, by the light of the street electric, and after a swift gaze at the house, he started off at a brisk pace.

"H'm," said Patty to herself, "not so worse, Miss Fairfield, not so worse! The axe is laid at the root of the tree!"

Glancing at the clock, she sat down to wait. It was twenty minutes to eight, but her heart beat high with hope. If she could outwit Ray Rose it would be great fun, and she would "pay back" the mischievous girl in her own coin.

At ten minutes to eight, the door of the room opened a little way. A servant of the Rose household put her head in, and said, "This woman wishes to see you, Miss Fairfield," and Sarah, a maid from the Farringtons', stood in the doorway.

"Come in, Sarah," said Patty. "Close that door!" she said to the Rose servant, so peremptorily, that the order was obeyed at once.

"Quick!" whispered Patty, and Sarah tore off her long cloak and bonnet and veil, and Patty as quickly put them on. Then she took the small basket Sarah had brought, and standing near the door, said, in a clear voice: "You may go now, Sarah. Tell Miss Elise not to look for me this evening."

"Yes, Miss Patty," Sarah responded, and then, as the servant outside opened the door, Patty slipped through, turning her face so that it might not be seen. The Rose servant, thinking Sarah had come out, relocked the door quickly, that the prisoner might not escape, and Patty went demurely downstairs, and out at the back door, without let or hindrance. Once in the street, she fairly flew to the hall where the circus performance was to be given, for she well knew that Ray Rose had probably already secured her dancing costume from Elise by some plausible bit of trickery.

It was but a few moments after eight when Patty walked into the dressing-room of the amateur performers.

"For gracious' sake, Patty, where have you been?" cried Elise, who was sitting before a mirror, making up her face. "Nobody could find you anywhere!"

"Here I am, all right," said Patty, blithely. "Where's Ray Rose?"

"In the next room. Where's your costume? Ray came over and got it from the house."

"Oh, she did, did she? All right."

Patty went into the next room, where several girls sat in their stage costumes, and all with warm wraps around them. Ray Rose was completely enveloped in a long cloak that covered her from neck to feet.

"Hello, Ray," said Patty, pleasantly; "I'll take my costume now, as I want to get dressed in it."

If ever there was a surprised looking girl it was Ray at that moment.

She stared at Patty as at an apparition.

"Where—where did you come from?" she stammered.

"Oh, I ran over from your house. Your room is lovely, Ray, but I got awfully tired of it. Now, you get yourself out of my skirts, and hand them over to me. But first, you go and telephone to your household to let Sarah, the Farringtons' maid, out of your room, where she may yet be locked in, for all I know."

Ray looked bewildered, and Patty, whose eyes were shining with righteous indignation, took her by the arm, and marched her to the telephone. Patty herself called up the Rose house, and then, thrusting the receiver into Ray's hand, said, "Give your order, and be quick about it."

"Let the girl out of my room," said Ray, through the transmitter. "It isn't Miss Fairfield in there now, it's one of the Farrington maids. Let her go home."

Patty took the receiver from Ray and hung it up, and then marched her to the dressing-room, and divested her of her long cloak.

"Why, Ray Rose!" cried Elise, "if you haven't got Patty's dress on, yourself! What are you up to?"