Patty's Fortune

“I’m a little embarrassed,” said Mona, who wasn’t at all; “but I’m getting along somehow. Isn’t Roger splendid?”

The naïveté of Mona’s gaze at her newly betrothed made Jim Kenerley chuckle. “You’ll do, Mona!” he said.

The table decorations were as appropriate as they could be made with little to work with. Patty had contrived a chime of wedding bells, of white tissue paper for the centrepiece, and at each plate was an orange, cored and holding a few flowers of various sorts.

“These are orange blossoms,” Adele explained; “though not quite the conventional style, they show our good intentions.”

The feast went on gaily, and after the dessert, the shower took place.

The head waiter brought in a tray on which were the gifts the girls had collected for Mona. They were beautiful and worth-while things, and the personal element they represented endeared them to the pleased recipient.

“You darling people!” she exclaimed. “You couldn’t have done anything that would please me more! It is heavenly kind of you and I love you for it. I shall use them all, at once.”

So Mona slipped Patty’s ring on her finger, threw Adele’s scarf round her shoulders, and tucking the wonderful lace handkerchief in her belt, she waved the fan to and fro. The centrepiece, which Marie managed to get finished in time, Mona calmly laid in place under her own dinner plate, and she declared that she was perfectly happy.

“Now, for our shower,” said Jim. “It isn’t fair that the bride-elect should get all the loot, so we take pleasure in presenting to our distinguished, – at least, distinguished-looking friend, and fellow-traveller, some few tokens of our approval of his course. Myself, I offer these dainty boudoir slippers, knowing that they will be acceptable, not only for their artistic merit, but for their intrinsic value. Take them, Farrington, with my tearful wish for your happiness.”

Kenerley gave Roger a good-sized parcel, tied up in tissue paper and ribbons, which, when opened, disclosed a furiously gaudy and old-fashioned pair of “worsted-work” slippers. He had unearthed them at the bazaar in the village, where they had doubtless been on sale since the early eighties.

Everybody laughed at the grotesque things, but Roger, in the mood of the moment, made a gay and graceful speech of thanks.

Then Bob Peyton presented a smoking set. This was an impossible affair, of “hand-painted” china. The ash tray bore the cheerful motto of “ashes to ashes!” and the tobacco jar was so clouded with artistic smoke wreaths, that Kit declared it ought to be labelled “Dust to Dust.”

Cameron’s gift was a tie case. Evidently fashioned by feminine fingers, it was of pink silk, a little faded, embroidered with blue forget-me-nots.

“Tasty, isn’t it?” said Kit, holding it up for general admiration. “I hesitated a long time between this and a sponge bag. The other would be more useful, but there’s something so fetching about this, – that I couldn’t get away from it.”

“Don’t let me get you away from it, Cameron,” said Roger; “I’d hate to deprive you of anything you admire so sincerely. Take it from me – ”

“No, Roger,” said Kit, firmly. “I cannot take it from you. I give it to you, – a little grudgingly, ’tis true, – but I give it. I may never have another chance to make you an announcement shower, and so, on this ’spicious ’casion, I stop at nothing.”

“You’re a noble fellow, Cameron,” and Roger’s voice was surcharged with emotion of some sort. “I accept your gift in the spirit in which it is given, and I trust I may some day have the opportunity to shower you in return.”

“I hope to goodness you will, Farrington, and I now thank you in advance.”

“Postpone those thanks, please,” broke in Channing; “your time’s up. I say, Old Top, here’s the best prize yet. I offer you this picture frame. But it is no ordinary picture frame. Observe. It is made of birch bark in neat pattern, and decorated with real pine cones, securely glued on. No danger of their fetching loose, I’ve tested ’em. Now, in this highly artistic, if a trifle ponderous setting, you can place Miss Galbraith’s portrait, and wear it next your heart or dream with it beneath your pillow. To be sure, it is pretty big and heavy for either of these uses, but’s what a bit of inconvenience compared to the sentiment of the thing?”

Channing held out an enormous and cumbersome frame of heavy pine cones, glued to a board back; a fright of a thing, made by some of the native country people. As a matter of fact, these jesting gifts all came from the little village shop, where native talent was more in evidence than good taste.

“Heavenly!” exclaimed Roger, casting his eyes toward the ceiling. “Look, Mona, is it not a peach? Will you give me a miniature of your sweet face to grace it? Oh, say you will!”

Roger’s absurd expression and exaggerated enthusiasm sent them all off into paroxysms of laughter, and Mona had no need for reply.

“Farrington, old man,” said Bill Farnsworth then, “brace yourself. I have the best gift yet, for you. The most appropriate, and combining a graceful sentiment with a charming usefulness. Behold!”

From voluminous folds of white tissue paper, Bill shook out an Oriental robe, of gold-embroidered silk. It was really gorgeous and looked as if made for a Chinese mandarin. There were Dragons in raised work and borders of chrysanthemums. Bill flung it round Roger, to whose stalwart form the strange garb was most becoming.

Everybody exclaimed in admiration. Only foolish gifts had been looked for and this was worthy of real praise. The long loose sleeves hung gracefully down, and the obi or sash was fringed with silk tassels.

“A stunning thing!” exclaimed Adele. “Where did you get it, Bill?”

“San Francisco,” returned Farnsworth, “but my heart is broken. You have none of you noticed the real sentiment, the reason for the gift. Oh, how dense you are!”

“What do you mean?” asked Adele, puzzled.

“Can’t you see?” cried Farnsworth. “Where are your wits? Why should I give that thing to Farrington, today?”

They all looked blank, till suddenly it dawned on Patty.

“Oh, Little Billee!” she cried, “oh, you clever, clever thing! Oh, girls, don’t you see? It’s a Ki-Mona!”

Then they did see, and they cheered and complimented Farnsworth on his witty gift.

“It’s so clever and so beautiful, I think I shall take it myself,” Mona declared, and Roger tossed it over to her. “With all my worldly goods – may as well begin at once,” he said with a mock air of resignation.

The shower over, they went to the ballroom to dance. Of course “Sir Roger de Coverly” was first on the programme, and after that the more modern dances.

Patty tried to evade Chick Channing, for he was growing a bit insistent in his attentions.

“Take me for a veranda stroll, Kit,” she said, as she saw Channing approaching. “I want you to tell me all about that fortune business. But first, how did you ever come to think of it?”

“Oh, you know my fatal facility for practical jokes. Come, sit in this palmy bower, and I’ll tell you all I know, and then some.”

They sauntered in to the pretty glass-enclosed nook, and sat down among the palms. “You see,” Kit went on, “I haven’t played a joke in I dunno when, and I just had to get one off. So when I was prowling around, and struck that empty shack, the idea sprang full-fledged to my o’er clever brain. I fixed it up with Bobbink, – and the rest is history. Bobsy is a great boy, though a little fresh. He got the make-up for my face, and the rugs and things. He fixed them all in the old shanty, and then he carried out the toothache farce in accordance with my orders.”

“Yes, he did very well. But I mean about the fortunes. How did you know about the man Daisy is so interested in, – the one who wants to be Mayor of – ”

“Sh! that’s a state secret. I know lots of things, but I keep them to myself.”

“All right,” said Patty, seeing he was in earnest. “But about somebody leaving me money. Did you make that up?”

“Not entirely,” and Kit still looked serious. “Perhaps you will receive a legacy some day. But did you note what I told you about your fate?”

“No,” said Patty, as she ran away back to the house.

CHAPTER X

GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART

The days sped all too quickly at Freedom Castle. And on one golden, shining September afternoon, Patty realised that the next day they were all to go home.

“I don’t want to go, Billy boy,” she said, wistfully.

She was sitting in a swing that she had herself contrived, and Chick had achieved for her. It was a tangle of wistaria vine, pulled down from the great oak tree that it had climbed, and fashioned into a loop. This they had decorated with more sprays of the parent vine itself, and often Patty, or the others, added autumn leaves or trailing creepers or bunches of goldenrod or sumach till the swing was usually a rather dressy affair. One couldn’t swing far in it, but then one didn’t want to, and it was a charming place to sit.

Today, Patty, in a chic little suit of tan cloth, with a white silk blouse and a crimson tie, sat in the swing, disconsolately poking into the earth with her patent leather shoe tip.

“I’m sorry, Patty girl,” and Big Bill looked regretfully at her. “But you see, the contract with the servants expires tomorrow, and they are all anxious to get away. You know, I’ve staid longer than I intended, now – ”

“Yes, ’cause I begged you to,” and Patty smiled at him. “Now if I beg you some more, will you stay some more?”

“In a min-nit! if I possibly could. But it’s un-possible. You know I just came up for a few days to ratify the papers of transference and see to some business matters, and I’ve all sorts of important duties beckoning to me with both hands.”

“But if I beckon to you with both hands – ”

Patty held out her pretty hands, and slowly beckoned with each slender forefinger.

“Don’t tempt me, you little witch. You know I’d do anything in this world for you, that didn’t conflict with duty – ”

“Wouldn’t you conflict your duty – for me, – Little Billee?”

Patty’s voice was wheedlesome, and her face was very sweet.

“My duty, yes, Patty.” Bill looked stern. “But my duty to others, – no.”

“Oh, Billee-ee-ee– ”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I must disappoint you. My employers expect me in Boston tomorrow night, and I must not fail them.”

“Well, can’t we stay here, even if you go away? Jim and Adele could manage things, and we don’t want servants. We could sort of camp out. I’m a good cook, and we’d have a lovely time.”

Farnsworth considered. He looked far off and his fine brows knit as he thought over Patty’s request. She looked at him and noted the cloud that came over his blue eyes as he turned to her, and said: “No, Apple Blossom, it can’t be done. This place is a trust to me, in a way, and I’m responsible. I may not leave it to others. And I cannot remain myself. So there’s no help for it, I must refuse you.”

There was an air of finality about Bill’s tones that told Patty there was no use in further coaxing.

“What’s the matter, Patty?” he went on. “It isn’t like you to tease so. I wish with all my heart I could give you what you ask, it hurts me worse than you know to refuse you anything. But I wouldn’t be worthy of the trust reposed in me, if I failed in my duty.”

“I hate duty,” said Patty, petulantly; “it’s a regular nuisance!”

“Gently, little girl, gently. What has happened to stir you up so? It’s more than this ungratified whim of not staying here longer.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t think, I know it. Why, Patty dear, I know every expression of your flower face, every look in your blue eyes, every droop of your sensitive mouth. And now it’s drooping like a – like a, well, more like a perverse baby than anything else.”

Farnsworth laughed gently as Patty’s mouth suddenly curved upward in an involuntary smile, then, as it drooped again, she said; “I believe I’ll tell you.”

“Just as you think best. I wonder if you remember a promise you made me once.”

“Oh, Little Billee, how did you know it referred to that?”

“Something seemed to hint it to me. Well, out with it. Are you still stage-struck?”

“No, but that manager, Mr. Stengel, won’t give up the idea of putting me on in light opera. He says – ”

“He says? Has he written to you?”

“No, Maude wrote me what he said. Any way, he thinks I have remarkable talent, and – ”

“You haven’t, Patty. Not remarkable talent. You have a pretty, light-weight voice, and a – h’m – shall we say an attractive appearance; but more than that is required for an opera success, even light opera. Forgive me, Apple Blossom, I know I am hurting your feelings, but it’s better you should know the truth.”

“Then why does Mr. Stengel want to put me into his plays?”

“He thinks you would look graceful and pretty and would be a drawing card for a time. Then, when your freshness wore off, as it would soon, he would throw you over like a worn-out toy.”

“Well, your freshness hasn’t worn off, Bill Farnsworth,” and Patty stood up, her eyes dark with anger at his words. “And I don’t care for any more of your opinions on a subject you know nothing about.”

Big Bill Farnsworth smiled. “Well, was it a little ruffled kitten! Did it hate to be misjudged and misunderstood and all those horrid things! Well, then, Patty, see here. I’ll let you off from your promise to tell me when you think of going on the stage, but you must tell your father. Though I can’t think you would ever take such a step, without consulting him.”

Patty’s sudden blush and a guilty look in her eyes made Bill stare at her sharply, and then he said: “Oh, you were thinking of just that, – were you, Patty Fairfield? I can hardly believe it. You poor little thing, you must be infatuated! Is it all that Maude Kent’s doing? Or, have you – Patty, you haven’t seen Stengel, have you?”

“No,” and Patty looked astounded at Bill’s vehemence. “Why?”

“Thank heaven! I thought for the fraction of a second your infatuation might be for him. All right. You go home and talk to your father and your very sensible stepmother, and I’ll warrant you’ll forget this bee in your bonnet in pretty short order. And I hope you’ll never see Maude Kent again. She has a certain charm and I don’t wonder it appealed to a poor little innocent like you. Promise, Patty, you’ll lay the case before your parents, before you take a further step.”

“Of course I shan’t go against their wishes,” Patty spoke with great dignity, “but I know I can get them to see it as I do.”

“Indeed? And just how do you see it?”

“Why, I see a fine and worthy career opening before me,” Patty scowled as the grin on Bill’s face grew broader, “a more valuable career than you are able to appreciate, a more – more – ”

“Patty! Oh, you angel goose, you! Do stop, you’ll finish me!” And Farnsworth threw back his head and roared with laughter. “And does this – er – valuable career shape itself to your clearer vision as being in the front row of the chorus, or farther back – ”

Bill paused, stopped by the look of horror on Patty’s face.

“Chorus!” she cried. “Why, you must be crazy! I shall be a prima donna, one of the reserved, exclusive ones, that nobody ever knows much about. I’m not going to have my picture all over the signboards, I can tell you that?”

“Nor the ash barrels? Well, for this relief, much thanks. Patty, I could laugh at you till I cried, but I feel more like crying first. I’m so sorry you’ve got this whimsey, for I know you’ll hang on to it, like a puppy to a root; and I shan’t be here to look after you. But your father will do that.”

“Why, where are you going?”

“West again. I don’t know just when, but very soon. Now, it may be better for you to have this violently and get over it quicker, like mental measles. But unless you promise me faithfully to tell it all, – every word, – to your father and mother, I’ll write them myself, all about it. Do you want me to do that?”

“Chick thinks it would be great fun for me to have a try at the stage.”

“Did Channing say that?” Bill’s face grew dark. “Did he, really, Patty?”

“Yes, he did. He said I’d make a screaming hit.”

“Chick’s only joking; don’t let him fool you.”

“No, he wasn’t joking, and you know it. He thinks, as I do, that such an experience would broaden me – ”

“Patty, stop! Do you want to be ‘broadened’ at the expense of all your refinement, your loveliness, your dainty girlhood, your fresh sweet youth, – oh, Patty, my little Patty, listen to me! If you never speak to me again, if you scorn me utterly, at least take my word for this, you must not, you shall not, think of this thing! Patty, come to me, instead. Come to me, dear, let me take care of you, and find pleasures for you that will make you forget this foolishness – ”

“It is not foolishness, but your talk is. I don’t care to hear any more.”

“Wait, dear, wait a moment. You know I love you, Patty, more than life itself; marry me, and let me teach you to forget this whim of yours – ”

“It isn’t a whim. And I don’t want to marry you. This idea of mine is not a whim, – but a career, a splendid opportunity that calls to me – that promises wonderful things, – that – ”

“Patty,” and Farnsworth’s face was white, “is that true, – what you said just now, that you – you don’t want to marry me?”

“Yes, it’s true,” and Patty’s angry blue eyes met his own sad ones.

“Then, that’s all, Apple Blossom. You may go now. I’ve no fear that you will do anything further in this other matter, without your father’s knowledge and no fear that he will allow it. So that’s all right. Good-bye – Sweetheart!”

“Good-bye,” and Patty flounced off. Yes, flounced is the word, for angry and chagrined, she let go of the swing she was holding, with a quick push, and whirling about, walked quickly toward the house.

The next morning the whole party left for New York.

“It’s been perfectly lovely,” Adele said to Farnsworth; “and if it were not for my baby girlie, I’d like to stay another week. But I hear her calling me!”

At Boston they were to stay over night. The party really broke up there, for several of the men were going in different directions.

But Adele gathered her brood of girls under her wing and carried them off to a hotel. And in the hotel lobby good-byes were said.

“I’ve had my long-feared telegram,” said Farnsworth, “and I have to go to Arizona at once. Wasn’t it lucky it didn’t come before we left our happy hunting grounds?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Adele, “it’s been a beautiful party, Bill, and we just love you for giving it to us. Don’t we, girls?”

“Yes!” they chorused, and laughingly interrupting their thanks, Farnsworth shook hands with everybody in hasty farewell.

Somehow, Patty was the last, and as he held out his hand to her, a gay voice was heard calling out, “Oh, here you are, people! How do you all do?”

They looked up to see Philip Van Reypen’s smiling face, as he cordially greeted one after another.

“The most perfect time,” Mona was saying, when Daisy caught her up; “Oh, yes, the most perfect time! What do you think, Phil, we had an engagement up there! A real live engagement! Guess the guilty parties!”

“Guess us!” exclaimed Roger, taking Mona’s hand and looking mock sentimental.

“There’s no use,” said Daisy, “you can’t get a rise out of them! They forestall you every time!”

“Congratulations, all the same,” said Van Reypen, cordially. “Patty, how are you? Sunburned? Not very much.” His manner was so cheery and his chatter so gay, nobody could be very serious, and the farewells became short and perfunctory.

Roger and Elise were taking Mona with them to Newport, where Mrs. Farrington was, and Bob Peyton was going directly home.

“Well,” said Van Reypen, “it’s lucky I came along, Mrs. Kenerley, to help you care for your charges. Cameron, you and I must look after things.”

“I’m on the job, too,” said Channing. “You can’t shake me till the last bell rings. Your train time, Farnsworth! So long, old man. See you when you return. You’re always turning and returning. And all thanks for a bully time!”

“Good-bye, everybody,” cried Bill, in his most genial way. “Glad you enjoyed it, and hope we can try it again some time. Good-bye, Patty,” and with a swift hand clasp, and a quick look in her eyes, Bill swung off and was lost to sight in the crowd.

Something seemed to snap in Patty’s heart. A cloud swam before her eyes, and she swayed a little where she stood.

“All right, girl,” said a strong, calm voice in her ear, and Van Reypen grasped her elbow and steadied her. Immediately, she was ashamed of her passing emotion, and laughed gaily, as she met his eyes.

“I’m here,” he said simply; “you’ll be taken care of.”

“Wherever did you drop from?” and Patty suddenly realised the queerness of his presence.

“Oh, I’m the little busybody who finds out things. I found out what train you people came down on, and I met it. Or rather, I tried to, but I reached it just as you left the station for this hostelry, so perforce, I followed you up. Now, may I attach myself to your cortège, Mrs. Kenerley? I can make myself useful, I assure you. Are you staying here over night?”

“Some of us are,” replied Adele, who liked Phil, and was glad to see him.

“Then be my guests for the evening. We’ll have dinner in great shape, and do a show, and just round up Boston generally.”

The Kenerleys agreed, and soon the festivities began by the party sitting down for afternoon tea in the hotel tea room.

Daisy told Phil of Patty’s escapade enacting the singer, M’lle Farini.

“What a lark!” said Van Reypen. “But I daresay you gave the audience a greater treat than if the lady herself had been there.”

“Sure she did!” declared Channing. “I tell you, we’ll see Patty on the stage yet. And a charming prima donna she would make, too. I believe it would be a great success. Farnsworth says – ”

But then some interruption occurred and the sentence was never finished.

In the evening, they all went to see a new light opera that was exceedingly popular. It was a dainty, pretty piece of foolery, full of Dresden china-looking ladies, and knights in theatrical armour, and the principal singer was a slight fairy-like person, much like Patty herself.

“You could give that Diva cards and spades,” declared Chick, as they discussed her at an after theatre supper. “Why, Patty, you’re more of an actress than she is, this minute.”

“And a thousand times better-looking,” said Philip.

“Bill Farnsworth says I’m good-looking enough,” began Patty, slowly, and then she stopped short and changed the subject. She wanted to think it out for herself, before there was any more talk about it. So, if any one recurred to the matter, she quickly spoke of something else, and the evening passed merrily away.

CHAPTER XI

A BUBBLE BURST

One afternoon, about a week later, Philip Van Reypen called at the Fairfields home in New York. Being informed that Patty was out, he asked to see Mrs. Fairfield, and Nan received him in the library.

“So sorry Patty isn’t here,” she said, as she greeted him cordially. “She’ll be sorry, too.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well,” returned Philip. “I’d like a little talk with you. Look here, Mrs. Nan, has Patty said anything to you about going on the stage?”

“Unless you mean a Fifth Avenue stage, she certainly has not,” and Nan smiled at the idea.

“No, don’t laugh, it’s serious. You know I met the crowd coming down from Maine, at Boston, and I was with them one evening. Well, they talked, – jestingly, it’s true, – but they talked about Patty being in light opera some time, – ”

“Why, Philip, how perfectly ridiculous! It was entirely a joke, of course.”

“I don’t think so. It seems, as near as I can make out, that Farnsworth put her up to it.”

“Bill Farnsworth! Oh, I can’t think he would.”

“Well, Patty herself said to me that Farnsworth said she was good-looking enough, and then, somehow, she got mixed up with a singing-person of some sort, who used to be an actress. Farnsworth knew her in San Francisco, I believe. And she infatuated Patty to such an extent that – ”

“I never heard such nonsense! Why hasn’t Patty told me all this?”