Patty's Fortune

“That will be fine,” Patty declared; “I do love a joke, and this is really a good one, I think. Yes, let me be M’lle Farini, for one night only, and if the real owner of that name objects, why, it will be all over then, and she’ll have to take it out in objecting. But I shan’t disgrace her, even if I don’t sing as well as she does.”

“But you do, Miss Fairfield,” exclaimed Miss Kent; “she has a fuller, stronger voice, but yours has more melody and sweetness. You will remain here over night, of course.”

“Oh, I never thought about that!” and Patty looked a little alarmed. “I don’t know what Adele will say.”

“Oh, please do. You really must. I have two bedrooms in my suite, and I can make you very comfortable.”

“Well,” and Patty hesitated; “I’ll have to talk this thing over with Mrs. Kenerley. I’ll telephone her now, and if she is willing, I will stay here all night.”

So Patty called up Adele and told her the whole story.

Adele listened, and then she laughed, good-naturedly, and told Patty she could do as she liked. “I think it’s a harum-scarum performance,” she said, “but Jim says, go ahead, if you want to. You stay with your new friend all night. Of course you couldn’t come home after the concert. I suppose Mr. Channing will stay at that hotel, too. And then he can bring you home in the morning. What will you wear?”

Patty told her, and then she asked Adele not to tell the others what she was up to. “I’m afraid they’ll come over,” she said; “and I can carry it through all right before strangers, but if all you people sat up in front of me, giggling, I couldn’t keep my face straight, I know; so don’t tell them till after it’s over.”

“All right, girlie, I will keep your fateful secret locked in my heart till you bid me speak. Have a good time, and sing your sweetest.”

“Now that’s all right,” and Patty looked enchanted at the prospect of fun ahead. “I’m going to have the time of my life! You go away now, Chick, and Miss Kent and I will see about my frock. Shall we meet at dinner?”

“Yes, I want you two girls to dine with me. Do you know anybody, Maudie, to make a fourth?”

“No, wait, Chick. I don’t want to dine in public. Nor do I want Miss Fairfield to be bothered with a company dinner. I’ll tell you a better plan. She and I will dine alone, here in my little parlour. You get your dinner downstairs, by yourself, and then, after the concert is over, you can invite us to supper and we can talk it over.”

Channing acquiesced, and then he went away, not to see them again until supper time.

“You are so good, Miss Fairfield – ”

“Oh, do call me Patty. I like it so much better.”

“I’ll be glad to. And you must call me Maude. It is a perfect Godsend, your helping me out like this. May I tell you just a little bit about myself?”

“I wish you would. And I’m so glad I can be of service to you.”

But first they must needs attend to the all-important matter of Patty’s frock, and sure enough, a white tulle of Maude’s was easily and quickly altered till it just fitted Patty. It was new and modish, made with full skirts and tiers of narrow frills. There was no lace or other trimming, save the soft tulle ruffles, and Maude decreed no jewelry of any sort, merely a few yellow roses at the belt, – the tiny mignon roses. These she ordered from the office, and by that time their dinner was served.

As they sat enjoying the few but well-chosen dishes that Maude had selected, she told Patty somewhat of her life, and Patty listened with interest.

“I have to support myself, my mother and a crippled sister,” Maude said, “and I had ambition to become a great actress. But after a fair trial, I found I could be at best only a mediocre actress. I found, however, that I had talent for organizing and arranging entertainments, and I concluded I could make more money that way than on the stage. So I took it up as a regular business, and I have succeeded. But this year has not been a very good one. I’ve had some misfortunes, and twice I didn’t get the money due me, because of dishonest assistants. And, I tell you truly, Patty, if I had lost five or six hundred dollars tonight, it would have been a hard blow. You have saved me from that, and I bless and thank you. Do you realize, little girl, what you are doing for me?”

“I’m so glad I can. Tell me about your sister.”

“Clare? Oh, she is the dearest thing! She never has walked, but in spite of her affliction she is the happiest, cheeriest, sweetest nature you ever saw. I love her so, and I love to be able to get little delicacies and comforts for her. See, here is her picture.”

Patty took the case and saw the portrait of a sweet-faced girl, little more than a child.

“She is a dear, Maude. I don’t wonder you love her. Oh, I’m so glad I happened over here today. Do you know Bill Farnsworth?”

“I met him once or twice the same winter I met Chick Channing. Mr. Farnsworth seemed very stiff and sedate. Chick is much more fun.”

“Chick is gayer, but Bill is an awfully nice man.”

“I was with a vaudeville troupe that year. It wasn’t very nice, – hard work and small pay. It was my last attempt on the stage. If I couldn’t be a big and fine actress I didn’t want to be any at all. So I’m glad I gave it up for this sort of work. This season is about over now, and I shall have entertainments in New York this winter. I’ve lots of influential patrons, and I hope for success. But I shall never forget your heavenly kindness in helping me out tonight. Now, perhaps, we had better be getting dressed.”

Patty made a careful toilette, for she wanted to look her best, and she succeeded. The soft dainty white tulle was exceedingly becoming, and she had done her hair the prettiest way she knew. Maude’s slippers were the least bit loose, but they looked all right, and Patty refused a loan of a pair of long white gloves.

“They’re not wearing them with evening gowns this season,” she said, “and I hate them, anyhow.”

“You’re right,” and Maude surveyed her critically. “Your arms are lovely, – so soft and dimpled. You are more effective without gloves.”

Through the opening numbers of the concert, Patty sat in the ante-room waiting her turn. She was not nervous or apprehensive, and when the time came, she walked out on the platform and bowed gracefully, with a cordial little smile.

She was to sing almost exactly the selections of M’lle Farini. But she had substituted others in one or two instances, and, of course, for encores, she could make her own choice.

And there were plenty of encores. Patty’s sweet voice charmed by its sympathy and grace, rather than by volume. And it made a very decided hit with the audience. They applauded continuously until Patty was forced to respond a second and a third time, after each of her numbers.

Channing, sitting in the audience, heard people saying, “Who is this Farini? I never heard of her before. Her voice is a little wonder!”

Miss Kent was delighted with Patty’s success. She had felt sure the hearers would like Patty’s music, but she did not expect such unanimous approval nor such enthusiasm.

Four times Patty was announced to sing, and as each was encored at least once, it made a good many songs. At the last appearance she was very tired, but she bravely endeavoured not to show it. She went through the number beautifully, but the deafening applause made it impossible for her not to give them one more.

“I can’t,” said Patty, as Maude came to her with entreaties. “I’m all in, as the boys say. Oh, well, I’ll sing one more little thing. No accompaniment at all, please, Maude.”

Then Patty returned to the platform and when the enthusiastic welcome ceased, she sang very softly a little cradle song. The haunting sweetness of the notes and the delicate languor of Patty’s tired voice made an exquisite combination more effective even than her other work. She finished in a pure, fine minor strain, and with a little tired bow, walked slowly from the stage.

Then the house went wild. They clapped and shouted brava! and demanded more. But the concert was over; Miss Kent made a little speech of thanks, and the footlights went out. Reluctantly, the people rose from their seats, but hung around, hoping to get a glimpse of M’lle Farini.

“It isn’t so much her voice,” Chick overheard somebody say, “as the way she has with her. She’s charming, that’s what she is, charming!”

“We can’t have supper in the dining-room,” Maude said, laughingly, to Channing. “Patty would be mobbed. Those people are just lying in wait for her.”

“But I want to,” cried Patty. “I’ve done the work, now I want the fun. Let’s have supper there. They won’t really come up and speak to me, when they don’t know me.”

“Won’t they!” said Maude. “But indeed you shall have supper wherever you like. You deserve anything you want. Come on, Chick, it’s to be just as Patty says.”

So to the supper-room they went, and there Patty became the observed of all. At first, she didn’t mind, and then it became most embarrassing. She could hear her name mentioned on all sides, and though it was always coupled with compliments, it made her uncomfortable to be so conspicuous.

“Though of course,” she said gaily, “they’re not talking about me, but about M’lle Farini. Well, I’m pretty hungry, Chick. Maude made me eat a light dinner, as I was going to sing. Now I want to make up. Can I have some bouillon, and some chicken à la king, and some salad, and some ice cream?”

“Well, well, what a little gourmande! Why, you’d have nightmare after all that!”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m fearfully hungry. Honest I am.”

So Patty had her selection, and though she ate little of each course, she took small portions with decided relish.

“I feel like a new lady!” she declared when she had finished. “Is there dancing? Can I have a turn? I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

“Of course you can dance,” said Maude. “But you must remain M’lle Farini for the evening. Can you remember?”

“’Course I can. It’ll be fun. Besides, I’m only going to have one trot with Chick and then I’ll go by-by, like a good little girl.”

But, as might have been expected, after her one dance, Patty was besieged by would-be partners, clamouring for an introduction. The manager of the hotel was bribed, cajoled, and threatened in the various efforts of his guests to get introductions to Patty and to Miss Kent.

“Just one or two,” Patty whispered to Maude, and so two or three young men won the coveted presentation, and Patty was urged to dance.

But this she refused. She wanted to chat a little with these strangers, but she didn’t care to dance with men so lately made acquainted.

Channing acted as bodyguard, and his close inspection would have barred out any one he did not altogether approve of. But they were a nice class of men, polite and well-bred, and they were entertaining as well. Patty had a right down good time, and not the least part of the fun was the masquerading as another.

“You are staying here long, M’lle Farini?” asked Mr. Gaunt, an attractive man of musical tastes.

“No,” Patty replied, “I have to leave early in the morning. I’m due to sing at another hotel tomorrow night.”

“Ah, a near-by house?”

“Not very. Do you sing, Mr. Gaunt?”

“Yes, baritone. I’d like to sing with you. I’ve an idea our voices would blend.”

“I’m sure they would. I love to sing duets. But,” and pretty Patty looked regretful, “it cannot be. We will never meet again.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I feel it. But tomorrow I’m going to have my fortune told. If the seer says anything about our future meeting, then I’ll look for you later on.”

“If the seer is a true soothsayer, and no fake, he can’t help telling you we will meet again; because it is a foregone conclusion.”

“Then I shall expect you and look forward to the meeting,” and Patty held out her hand to say good-night, for it was after midnight, and Maude was making signs for her to come with her.

But just then a clerk came toward them with a puzzled face. “There’s a telephone call for a Miss Fairfield,” he said; “and the speaker says she’s here with Mr. Channing. Are you Mr. Channing, sir?”

“Yes,” said Chick. “It’s all right. M’lle Farini has occasion to use different names in her profession. Which booth?”

“This way, sir.”

Channing, beckoning to Patty, followed the man, and whispered to her to take the message, as it must be from some of the Freedom Castle people.

Patty went into the booth, and to her surprise was greeted by Philip Van Reypen.

“Well,” she exclaimed, a little annoyed, “is this a habit? Do you expect to call me up every night at midnight?”

“Now, Pattykins, don’t get mad. I called you up to apologize for what I said last night. I take this hour, ’cause I know you’re all wrapped up in people all day, and only at night do you have a moment to waste on me, and I must tell you how sorry I am that I was rude to you.”

“Rude, how?”

“Why, telling you I was coming up there whether you asked me or not. You don’t want me to, do you?”

“No, Phil, since you ask me plainly, I don’t. Not but that I’d like to see you, but I’m here on Bill Farnsworth’s invitation, and since he didn’t ask you, – ”

“Yes, I know. And it’s all right. I don’t want to butt in where I’m not asked. And I’m sorry I called you up, if it bothered you. And – ”

“All right, Phil. Now if you’ve any more to say, can’t you write it? For I’m just going to bed. Good-night.” And Patty hung up the receiver.

CHAPTER VII

THE FORTUNE TELLER

Next morning Patty and Maude had a cosy little breakfast in the latter’s apartment, and then, arrayed in her riding habit, Patty went down, to find Channing waiting for her on the veranda.

“Good morning, M’lle Farini,” he said gaily, “ready for a ride? Come along with us, won’t you, Maude?”

“No, thank you, Chick. I’m not altogether certain that Patty’s friends will forgive this performance and I’d be afraid to see them. But, oh, I can’t tell you both what it has meant to me, and I do hope you’ll have no cause to regret it.”

“Not a bit of it! I’ll fix it up all right,” and Chick looked very big and powerful. “If anybody goes for Patty, he’ll hear from me! See?”

“But I do want to see you again, Maude,” said Patty, as they bade farewell. “Shall you be here long?”

“Only two or three days, at most. I have another concert here tomorrow night, but I’m sure of my artists for that. Do ride over again, both of you.”

“We will,” promised Channing, and then the two cantered away.

“Here they come!” cried Daisy, as from the porch of Freedom Castle she spied the two equestrians.

Jim Kenerley was at the block to help Patty alight, and as she ran up the steps, Adele clasped her in a welcoming embrace.

“You dear child!” she said. “What an experience you have had. Sit down here and tell us all about it.”

So Patty told the whole story, exactly as it had happened, and Channing added details here and there.

Everybody was interested and asked all sorts of questions.

“Is it a nice hotel?” asked Mona. “Did you have any fun after the concert?”

“There was dancing,” said Patty, “but I was too scared, when people called me M’lle Farini, to enjoy it much. I wanted to get away. I’m glad I did it for Miss Kent, but – never again!”

“If she’s the Maude Kent I once knew, you had no business to have anything to do with her,” put in Farnsworth, in a gruff voice.

“She’s the Miss Kent Chick Channing knows, and that’s enough for me!” retorted Patty, and a little pink spot showed in either cheek, a sure sign that she was annoyed.

“Well, shall we go to the hermit’s?” said Elise, anxious to avert the impending scene. “What do you think, Patty, Kit has a toothache, and can’t go, after all.”

“Toothache!”

“Yes, a bad ulceration. He sent down word by Bobbink, that pet bellboy of his, that we were to go on without him. The boy will show us the way.”

“How ridiculous! Why not wait till tomorrow?”

“No, Kit says the hermit man expects us and we must go. You’ll go along, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. Shall I change this rigging, – or go as I am?”

“Go as you are. It’s time we were off. Roger and Mona have gone on ahead, but as they went in the opposite direction, I am not sure they’ll get there before we do.”

“Those two have a fancy for going in the opposite direction,” laughed Patty; “ever notice it?”

“Not being stone blind, I have,” Elise admitted, and really the interest Roger and Mona had for each other became more apparent each day.

The Kenerleys declined to go on the hermit expedition, saying that they knew their “fortune,” and had no reason for questioning the future. So the others started.

Channing took possession of Patty, and merely saying “which way?” he led her across the wide lawn to the indicated path through the wood.

Elise followed, with Bob Peyton, who greatly admired the pretty New York girl. Farnsworth and Daisy Dow brought up the rear of the procession, and Bobbink, the ever useful courier, showed the way.

“Mr. Cameron says for you to do jes’ wot I says,” he announced, evidently greatly pleased at his position of power.

“Go ahead, Bobbink,” said Bill; “show us the way, but don’t talk too much.”

“Yassir. Dis way, ladies an’ gempmun.”

It was a beautiful walk, through the Autumn sunshine and forest shade. Now they crossed a tiny brook or paused to admire a misty waterfall, and again they found a long stretch of good State road.

And sooner than any one expected, they reached the shack.

“Dat’s de place,” announced Bobbink, and stood, pointing to the dilapidated shanty at the side of the road.

“Who’ll go in first?” asked Patty; “I’m scared.”

“I’m not,” and Daisy stepped nearer and peered curiously in at the door.

“Come in, woman!” said a strange, cracked old voice, and there followed a laugh like a cackle. “Come in, each and all.”

Daisy pushed in and Farnsworth stepped in, too, for he didn’t altogether like the sound of that laugh. Then they all crowded in and saw the old hermit, sitting in a hunched-up position on a pile of rugs in the corner of the hut.

“Which one first?” he muttered; “which pretty lady first? All have fortunes, wonderful fortunes coming to them.”

The old man’s garb was somewhat like that of a monk. A dingy robe was girdled with a hempen rope, and a cowl-shaped hood fell well over his brow. His face was brown and seamed and wrinkled with age, and he wore queer-looking dark glasses. On his hands were old gloves that had once been white, but were now a dingy grey, and he seemed feeble, and unable to move without difficulty.

But he was alert, doubtless spurred by the hope of getting well paid.

“You go first, Daisy,” said Patty; “then we’ll see how it works.”

“All right, I’m not afraid,” and Daisy extended her palm to the old man.

“Here, wait!” she cried; “don’t touch me with those dirty old gloves! Can’t I wrap my handkerchief round my hand?”

The hermit made no objection, and Daisy wound a fresh handkerchief about her fingers, leaving the palm exposed for the seer to read.

He began, in a droning voice:

“Pretty lady, your home is far away. You are not of this end of the country, but off toward the setting sun. You will return there soon, and there you will meet your fate. He awaits you there, a man of brain and brawn, – a man who has ambition to become the mayor of – ”

“Hush!” cried Daisy, snatching her hand away from his gloved fingers; “Don’t you say another word! That’s a secret! I don’t want any more fortune! That man’s a wizard!”

Daisy moved across the room, putting all the distance possible between her and the seer. With startled eyes, she gazed at him, as at a world wonder.

“Pooh! That was a chance shot, Daisy,” said Elise. “Let me try, I’ve no secrets that I’m afraid he’ll reveal.”

Nor was she afraid of the grimy old glove, but put her finger tips carelessly into the old fellow’s hand.

“Pretty lady heart-whole,” declared the hermit. “Some day pretty lady fall in love, but not today. Some ’nother day, too! Pretty lady marry twice, two times! Ha, ha!”

“Silly!” said Elise, blushing a little, as she withdrew her hand. “I hate fortune telling. Next.”

Patty, a little reluctantly, surrendered her hand to the seer, who took it lightly in his own. “Pretty lady all upset,” he began. “So many suitors, all want pretty lady. But the fates have decree! The lady must marry with the – ” he drew his hand across his eyes, – “I cannot see clearly! I see a cat! Ha, no! I have it! the pretty lady must marry with the Kit, ha, yes; the Kit!”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Patty, laughing, “have I really got to marry Kit! Kit who?”

“That the wizard cannot tell. Only can I read the name Kit. It is written in the lady’s fate.”

“But s’pose I don’t want to? S’pose I don’t like Kit as much as somebody else?”

“That makes nothing! It is fate. It may not be denied.”

“Well, all right. But I don’t care so much about my future husband. He’s a long way off. Tell me what will happen to me before he arrives.”

“Many adventures. You will today receive a letter – ”

“Goodness, I get letters every day! Any particular letter?”

“Yes, a letter from one you love.”

“Ah, Daddy, I expect.”

“Nay, ’tis a younger man than your honourable parent. Then, soon the pretty lady will inherit fortune.”

“Now, that’s more interesting. Big fortune?”

“Oh, – my, yes! Large amount of moneys! And a journey, – a far journey.”

“I don’t care about the journey. Tell me more about the fortune. Who will leave it to me? Not my father, I hope.”

“Nay, no near relative.”

“That’s good; I don’t want my people to die. Well, anything more, Mister Hermit?”

“Beware of a dark lady – ”

“Now I know you’re the real thing!” and Patty laughed merrily. “I’ve been waiting for the ‘dark lady’ and the ‘light-complected gentleman’ who always figure in fortunes. Well, what about the dark lady?”

“If the pretty miss makes the fun, there is no more fortune for her,” said the hermit, sulkily.

“I don’t mind, so long as you don’t take the money away.”

“Tell mine, then,” said Channing, as Patty resigned her place.

“You, sir, are an acrobat. You were employed in the Big Circus, the Hop – Hippodrome. When they discharged you, it was but temporary. Do not fear, you will regain your position there.”

“Why, you old wiz! How did you know that!” and Channing stared in pretended amazement; “I thought that episode in my career was a dead secret!”

“No episodes are secrets to me,” declared the hermit. “Shall I tell further?”

“No, I guess that will be about all,” and Channing moved quickly away from the strange old man.

Bob Peyton declined to have his past exposed to the public gaze; and he said he didn’t care to know what the future held for him, he’d far rather be surprised at his life as it happened. So Bill Farnsworth was the next to test the wizard’s powers.

“Big man,” said the hermit, solemnly, as he scanned the broad palm Bill offered for inspection. “Big man, every way; body, heart, soul, – all.”

“Thanks,” said Farnsworth, “for the expansive if ambiguous compliment. Be a little more definite, please. What am I going to have for dinner today? Answer me that, and I’ll believe in your wizardry.”

“Big man is pleased to be sarcastic. The hermit does not waste his occult powers on foolish questions. In a few hours you will know what you will have for dinner. Why learn now?”

“Why, indeed? All right, old chap, tell me something worth while, then.”

“That will I, sir! I’ll tell you your fate in wedlock. You will yet wed a lovely lady, who, like your noble self, is of the Western birth. She is – ”

“Drop it, man! Never mind what she is! Let me tell you what you are! Friends, behold Mr. Kit Cameron!” With a swift movement, Farnsworth drew off the old gloves from the hand that held his, and exposed the unmistakable slim white hands of the musician, Kit.

“Oh, you fraud!” cried Patty. “I half suspected it all the time!”

“I didn’t,” exclaimed Daisy. “You fooled me completely!”

“Oh, my fortune!” wailed Elise. “Where are those two lovely fates of mine?”

“And all my money!” groaned Patty. “I feel as if you had misappropriated my funds, Kit.”

It had not been necessary further to remove Cameron’s disguise, it was enough to see his hands, and hear his merry laugh.