CHAPTER III
A MIDNIGHT MESSAGE
Dinner in the big dining-room was great fun. A large, round table hadbeen prepared for the party, and the smaller, unoccupied tables allabout, were also decorated with flowers to give a festive atmosphere.
As there were scores of idle waiters, each of the party could have one,or more, if desired.
Farnsworth seated his guests.
“I’ll sit here,” he announced, “and I’ll ask Mrs. Kenerley to sit at myright. The rest of you may sit where you choose, alternating, of course,the girls and the men. Now, here’s my plan. At every meal, the men sitas we do tonight, and the ladies move one seat to the right. This givesus new companions each time, and prevents monotony.”
“Here’s me,” said Patty, dropping into the chair at Bill’s left hand,while Channing sat the other side of Patty. Laughingly, they all foundplaces, and dinner was served.
It was an unusual experience. The hotel dining-room was ornate in designand appointments, and its green and gold colouring and soft glow ofsilk-shaded lights made a charming setting for the merry party round thebig table. The other tables, and there were many of them, looked as ifthey might be occupied by the ghosts of the departed guests.
“It’s like being castaways on a beautiful and very comfortable desertisland,” said Patty, as she looked appreciatively at a huge tray of horsd’œuvre offered her by a smiling waiter. “I do love these pickly-wicklythings, and never before have I felt that I might take my time inchoosing. But, here at——what’s the name of the hotel, Bill?”
“Never mind the name on its letter-heads,” he returned, “we’ll call itFreedom Castle. Everybody is to follow his or her own sweet will,—orsomebody else’s if that seems pleasanter.”
“Who has the pleasantest will?” asked Patty, looking around; “I want tofollow it.”
“I have,” said Chick, promptly. “My will is something fierce in the wayof pleasantness. I daresay every one here will fall all over themselvesin their haste to follow it. Ha, do I hear a familiar strain? I do!”
He did, for just then the hotel orchestra, a fine one, struck up apopular air.
“Music, too!” exclaimed Mona. “All the comforts of home, and none of thecares. This is just too perfect! Billy Boy, you’re a wonder!”
“To think of it being Bill’s hotel!” said Daisy, in an awed voice.
“To think of our being here without any bills,” put in Roger Farrington.“That’s the best part of it. It’s like being given the freedom of thecity!”
“The freedom of the country,” Adele corrected; “that’s much better.”
The orchestra, on a platform, gorgeous in scarlet, gold-braided coats,began a fascinating fox-trot.
Kit Cameron looked across the table at Patty, with a nod of invitation.
Smiling assent, Patty rose, flinging her napkin on the table. Kit cameround to her, and in a moment they were dancing to the music that hadcalled them. Skilfully, Kit guided her among the maze of tables andchairs, for they were the two best dancers in the crowd, and they had nodifficulty in avoiding obstacles.
“Have a turn, Adele?” asked Bill, laying down his fork.
“No, thank you; it’s all very well for the girls, but your chaperon istoo nearly middle-aged for such capers.”
“Nonsense; but maybe you’re wise to save your energies for an eveningdance.”
Several of the young people did dance a few turns, but Chick Channingspeedily caused them to halt by announcing the arrival of mushroomsunder glass.
“Whoosh!” cried Kit, “back to nature! We can dance at any old time, butmushrooms under glass are an event! I say, Bill, I’m glad the cookdidn’t leave with the guests.”
“The whole serving force is under contract for a fortnight longer,”explained Farnsworth. “You can live on mushrooms, if you like.”
“It’s Paradise,” said Marie Homer, ecstatically; “I don’t ever want togo home. Does the mail come regularly?”
Everybody laughed at Marie’s look of anxiety, and Bill replied, “Yes, mychild, you can get your daily letter from him up here.”
“He doesn’t write _every_ day,” said Marie, so innocently that they allroared again.
“I wish _I_ had somebody to write love-letters to me,” sighed Patty. “Itmust make life very interesting.”
“I’ll write them to you,” offered Chick. “It’s no trouble at all, andI’m the little old complete love-letter writer.”
“You’re right here in the spot, though, so that’s no fun. I meansomebody who isn’t here,—like Marie’s somebody.”
“Well, you must have plenty of absent adorers. Can’t you encourage theircorrespondence?”
“But then I’d have to write first, and I hate to do that, it’s so—sosort of forward.”
“That, to be sure. But it’s better to be forward than forlorn.”
“Oh, I’m not exactly forlorn!” said Patty, indignantly. “I can be happywith all these others, if t’other dear charmer _is_ away.”
“Can you, Patty?” whispered Bill. “Are you happy here?”
“Oho, Little Billee, I am beatifically happy! Just see that confectionLouis is bringing in! Could I be anything but happy with that ahead ofme?”
The dessert that had just appeared was indeed a triumph of theconfectioner’s art. Composed of ice cream, meringue and spun sugar, itwas built into an airy structure that delighted the sight as well as thepalate. Everybody applauded, and Adele declared it was really a shame todemolish it.
“It would be a shame not to,” said Patty, her blue eyes dancing inanticipation of the delicious sweet.
“What a little gourmande you are,” said Chick, watching Patty helpherself bountifully to the dessert.
“’Deed I am. I love sweet things, they always make me feel at peace withthe world. I eat them mostly for their mental and moral effect on me,for my disposition is not naturally sweet, and so I do all I can toimprove it.”
“And yet you give the effect of a sweet dispositioned person.”
“She is,” spoke up Daisy, overhearing. “Why, Chick, Patty is thesweetest nature ever was. Don’t you believe her taradiddles.”
“I know the lady so slightly, I’m not much of a judge. But I feel sureshe’ll improve on acquaintance,” and Chick looked hopeful.
“I hope so, I’m sure,” and Patty’s humble expression of face was beliedby the twinkle in her eye.
Then dinner was over, and Adele rose and led the way to the great salonor drawing-room.
“Come for a little walk on the veranda,” said Chick to Patty. “Let’s getmore acquainted.”
Patty caught up a rose-coloured wrap from the hall rack, and they wentout and strolled the length of the long veranda that went round threesides of the house.
“Splendid crowd,” said Chick, enthusiastically; “and right down fine ofold Bill to do this thing.”
“He _is_ fine,” said Patty, impulsively; “whatever he does is on a bigscale.”
“His friendships are, I have reason to know that. He’s done heaps forme, dear old chap.”
“Have you known him long?”
“Three or four years. Met him through Mona. Good sort, Mona.”
“Yes, Mona’s a dear. She’s the sort that wears well. Where is your home,Mr. Chick?”
“Nowhere, at present. I’ve lived in Arizona, but I’ve come East to growdown with the country. I’m a mining engineer, at your service.”
“I’d love to employ you, but, do you know, I seldom have need of theservices of a first-class mining engineer.”
“Oh, I’m not so awfully first-class. Bill thinks he can use me in hismanœuvres. We talked it over a bit on the way up, and I hope so, I’msure.”
“Then I hope so, too.”
“Thank you. You’re a kind lady. Shall we sit in this glassy nook andflirt a bit?”
They had reached a portion of the veranda, glass-enclosed, and arrangedwith
seats among tall palms and jars of flowers. There were shadedlights and a little illuminated fountain in the centre.
“I’ll stop here a moment, but I can’t flirt,” said Patty, demurely; “mychaperon won’t allow it.”
“Allowed flirting is no fun, anyway. Forbidden fruit is sweetest.”
“But sour grapes are forbidden fruit. How can sour be sweet?”
“Oh, it’s all according to your nature. If you have a sour nature, thegrapes are sour. If a sweet disposition, then all fruits are sweet.”
“Even a lemon?”
“Nobody hands a lemon to sweet people.”
“Then they can’t have any lemonade, and I love it! I guess I’ll stopbeing so sweet——”
“Good gracious, Patty, you couldn’t do _that_ if you tried!”
This remark was made by Kit Cameron, who just then put his head in atthe doorway and overheard Patty’s laughing decision.
“Hello, you two,” he went on; “you’ll have to stop your introspectiveconversation, and come and join the dance. Will you, won’t you come andjoin the dance? We’re only to have one, our dragon chaperon declares,and then we must all go by-by. So come and trip it, Patty of the fairytoes!”
The trio returned to the drawing-room, and after the one dance had beenextended to half a dozen, Adele collected her headstrong charges andcarried them off to bed.
“And you’re not to have kimono confabs all night, either,” she ordered.“Patty, you’ll be good for nothing tomorrow, if you don’t get some rest.And the others, too.”
But there was more or less chattering and giggling before the girlsseparated for the night. It seemed natural for them to drift intoPatty’s boudoir and in their pretty negligées they dawdled about whilePatty brushed her hair.
“What goldilocks!” exclaimed Marie, in admiration. And truly, Patty’shair was a thing to admire. Thick and curling, it hung well below herwaist, and shone with a golden glimmer as the light touched its ripplinglengths.
“It’s an awful nuisance,” Patty declared; “there’s such a lot of it, andit does snarl so.”
“Let me help you,” cried Daisy, springing up and taking the brush fromPatty’s hand. “Mona, do the other side.”
Mona seized another brush and obeyed, and as the two brushed mostvigorously, Patty’s little head was well pulled about.
“Thank you, girls, oh, _thank_ you _ever_ so much, but truly, I _don’t_mind doing it myself! Oh, _honestly_, I don’t!”
Patty rescued her brushes, and soon had the rebellious locks in two longpigtails for the night.
“Now, scoot, all of you,” she said, “this is the time I seek repose formy weary limbs, on beds of asphodel—or—whatever I mean.”
“Beds of nothing,” said Mona, “I’m not a bit sleepy. Let us stay alittle longer, Patty, dear,—sweet Patty, ah, _do_ now.”
“_I_ can’t,” and Marie started toward the door. “I’m awfully sleepy.”
“You don’t fool me, my infant,” said Patty, wisely. “Your eyes are likestars burned in a blanket! _I_ know what you’re going to do! But don’tbe alarmed, I won’t tell.”
Marie blushed and with murmured good-nights, ran away.
“Going to write a letter, of course.” And Daisy wagged her sapient head.“Who is the man, Pat?”
“Fie, Daisy! You heard me say I wouldn’t tell!”
“You only said you wouldn’t tell what she’s going to do. And we knowthat. Do tell us who he is!”
“I won’t do it. If Marie chooses, she will tell you herself. And anyway,Daisy, it’s no one you know. I don’t think you ever saw him and I doubtif you ever even heard of him.”
“Is he nice?”
“Charming. Full of capers, though. And Marie is so serious. But he’svery attractive.”
“Are they engaged? Oh, Patty, _do_ tell us about it!”
“I can’t. I don’t know so very much about it myself; but what I do knowis a sacred trust, and not to be divulged to a horde of rattle-pates.Now, will you make yourselves scarce? Go and write letters, go and darnstockings,—anything, but let me go to bed.”
Finally, Patty shooed the girls away, and locking her door against theirpossible return, she began to make ready for bed.
She glanced at her watch as she sat at her toilette-table. It wasexactly midnight.
And at that moment her telephone rang.
“Those girls!” she thought to herself. “I’ll not answer it!”
But the bell kept ringing, and Patty took down the receiver with a soft“Hello.”
“That you, Patty?” and her astonished ears recognised Philip VanReypen’s voice.
“For mercy’s sake! Where are you, Phil?”
“Home. In New York. Can you hear me all right?”
“Yes, plainly. How did you know I was here?”
“Learned it from your father. Say, girlie, why didn’t you get me a bidup there, too?”
“Do you want to come?”
“_Do_ I! Aren’t _you_ there!”
“Is that a reason?”
“The best in the world. Do get Farnsworth to invite me.”
“I can’t, Phil. He doesn’t want any—any more than we have here now.”
“You mean he doesn’t want _me_.”
“Why, doesn’t he like you?” Patty’s voice was full of innocent surprise.
“It isn’t that, but he wants you all to himself.”
“Nonsense! There are a dozen of us up here.”
“Well, I mean he’s afraid to have _me_ there. By Jove, Patty, that’s asort of a compliment. He’s afraid of me.”
“Don’t be silly, Philip. How’s Lady Van?”
“She’s all right. She’s at Newport, just now. I’m in town for a day ortwo, so thought I’d call up Spring Beach and maybe run down there to seeyou. And this is the immediate result. Well, look here, Patty, if Ican’t get invited to Farnsworth’s Palace Hotel, for I hear it’s that,I’m going to Poland Spring, and then I can run over and see you anyway.”
“Oh, Philip, _don’t_ do that!”
“Why not? Haven’t I a right to go to Poland Spring, if I like?”
“Yes, but don’t come over here.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t exactly explain it, myself; at least not over the telephone,but I don’t think it would be nice for you to come here when you werenot invited.”
“Oh, I was spoken of, then?”
“Well,—yes,—since you will have it.”
“And Farnsworth wouldn’t have me?”
“Well,—I said not to have you.”
“Oh, you _did_! What a nice friend you are!”
“Now, Phil, don’t talk like that. I said—I said——”
“Bless your heart, I know just how it was. Or nearly. But you could havehad me asked—and you didn’t! Now, my lady, just for that, I _am_ goingto Poland Spring—start tomorrow. And,—listen, now,—if you reallydon’t want me to come over to the Farnsworth House, then you must comeover to the Poland Spring House to see me! Get that?”
“Why, Phil, absurd! How could I go alone?”
“You needn’t come alone. Bring a chaperon, or another girl or a crowd ofpeople if you like, or even a servant, but _come_! That’s all, sogood-night, little girl. Pleasant dreams!”
The telephone clicked as Phil hung up, and with a little gasp, Pattyhung up her receiver and threw herself on a couch to think it over. Shecouldn’t help laughing at the coil she was in, for she well knew shecouldn’t go to Poland Spring House, unless with the whole crowd,—ornearly all of them. She pictured Bill reaching there to be greeted byPhilip Van Reypen! Dear old Bill; after all he had done to make itpleasant for them, to hurt his feelings or to annoy him in any way,would be mean. She wished Phil had kept out of it. She wished therewasn’t any Phil nor any Little Billee, nor—nor—anybody,—and somehowPatty’s long, brown lashes drooped over her pansy blue eyes,—and, stillrobed in her chiffon and lace peignoir, and all curled up on the soft,spacious couch,—she fel
l sound asleep.