THE HOTEL
“This is a little like a real eloping, isn’t it?” and Bill gave
Patty’s suitcase to a porter, whom they followed across the big
Pennsylvania station in New York.
“A _very_ little,” said Patty, shaking her head. “You see it lacks the
thrill of a real out-and-out elopement, because people know about it. An
elopement, to be any good, must be a secret. If ever I get married, I’m
going to elope, that’s one thing certain!”
“Why, Patty, how unlike you! I thought you’d want a flubdub wedding with
forty-’leven bridesmaids and all the rest of it.”
“Oh, I s’pect I shall when the time comes. I often change my mind, you
know.”
“You bet you do! You change it oftener than you make it up!”
“Why, I couldn’t——” began Patty, and just then they reached the
taxicab rank, and Bill put Patty into a car.
They went to the Waldorf, where they were to meet the Kenerleys, and
found that Jim and Adele had just arrived.
“What a perfect scheme!” exclaimed Adele, as soon as greetings had been
exchanged. “Who all are going?”
“Let us go to luncheon,” said Bill, “and then we can thrash out things.
I reserved a table—ah, here we are,” as the head waiter recognised the
big Westerner.
“I love to go round with Bill,” said Patty, “he always has everything
ready, and no fuss about it.”
“He sure does,” said Jim Kenerley, in hearty appreciation. “But the way
he scoots across the country and back, every other day or two, keeps him
in trim. He lives on the jump.”
“I do,” agreed Farnsworth. “But some day I hope to arrange matters so I
can stay in the same place twice running.”
Laughing at this sally, they took their places at the table, which
Bill’s foresight had caused to be decorated with a low mound of white
asters and maidenhair fern.
“How pretty!” cried Patty. “I hate a tall decoration,—this is just
right to talk over. Now, let’s talk.”
And talk they did.
“I just flew off,” Patty declared, as she told Adele about it. “Nan’s
going to pack a trunk and send it, when she knows we’re truly there. I
think she feared the plan would fizzle out.”
“Indeed it won’t,” Bill assured them. “We’ve got the nucleus of our
party here, and if we can’t get any more, we can go it alone.”
But it was by no means difficult to get the others. Some few whom they
asked were out of town, but they responded to long distance calls, and
most of them accepted the unusual invitation.
Farnsworth had a table telephone brought, and as fast as they could ring
them up, they asked their guests.
The two Farringtons were glad to go; Marie Homer and Kit Cameron jumped
at the chance. Mona and Daisy, with Chick Channing, would come up from
the shore the next day, and that made eleven.
“Van Reypen?” asked Kenerley, as they sought for some one to fill out
the dozen.
“Up to Patty,” said Bill, glancing at her.
“No,” and Patty shook her golden head, slowly; “no, don’t let’s ask Phil
this time.”
“Why not?” said Adele in astonishment. “I thought you liked him.”
“I do; Phil’s a dear. But I just don’t want him on this picnic. Besides,
he’s probably out of town. And likely he wouldn’t care to go.”
“Reasons enough,” said Farnsworth, briefly. “Cross off Van Reypen. Now,
who for our last man?”
“Peyton,” said Jim. “Bob Peyton would love to go, and he’s a good
all-’round chap. How’s that, Bill?”
“All right, Patty?” and Bill looked inquiringly at her.
“Yes, indeed. Mr. Peyton’s a jolly man. Do you think he’d go, Adele?”
“Like a shot!” Kenerley replied, for his wife. “Bob’s rather gone on
Patty, if you know what I mean.”
“Who _isn’t_ gone on Patty?” returned Farnsworth. “Well, that’s a round
dozen. Enough!”
“Plenty,” Patty decreed. And then the talk turned to matters of trains
and meetings and luggage.
“I’ll arrange everything for the picnic,” said Bill. “You girls see
about your clothes and that’s all you need bother about. You’ll want
warmish togs, it gets cool up there after sundown. Remember, it’s
Maine!”
Patty and Adele at once began to discuss what to take, and Patty made a
list to send to Nan for immediate shipment.
“What an enormous piece of humanity that Chicky is!” said Patty,
suddenly remembering the stranger. “Do you know him, Jim?”
“Yes; known him for years. He’s true blue, every inch of him. Don’t you
like him, Patty?”
“Can’t say yet. I only saw him half a jiffy. But, yes, I’m sure I shall
like him. Bill says he’s salt of the earth.”
“He’s all of that. And maybe a little pepper, as well. But you and old
Chick will be chums, I promise you. Now we’ll pack you two girls off to
Fern Falls, and I’ll do a few man’s size errands, and Bill, here, will
make his will and dispose of his estate, before going off into the
wilderness with a horde of wild Indians. Then tomorrow, he’ll pick us up
at Fern Falls, and we’ll all go on our way rejoicing.”
“Not so fast,” said Adele, after Jim finished his speech. “You two men
can go where you like, Patty and I will take a taxi, and do some last
fond lingering bits of shopping, before we go home. Don’t you s’pose we
want some shoes and veils and——”
“Sealing-wax?” asked Farnsworth, laughing. “All right, you ladies go and
buy your millinery, and I’ll see you again tomorrow on the train.”
* * * * *
As might have been expected, with such capable management, everything
went on smoothly, and it was a clear, bright afternoon when they
completed the last stage of their journey, and the train from Portland
set them down at their destination.
Not quite at their destination, however, for motorbuses were in waiting
to take them to the hotel itself.
For more than an hour they bumped or glided over the varying roads, now
through woods, and now through clearing.
At last, a vista suddenly opened before them, and they saw a most
picturesque lake, its dark waters touched here and there by the setting
sun. It was bordered by towering pines and spruces, and purple hills
rose in the distance.
“Stunning!” cried Patty, standing up in the car to see better. “I never
saw such a theatrical lake. It’s like grand opera! Or like the castled
crag of Drachenfels, whatever that is.”
“I used to recite that at school,” observed Chick Channing; “so it must
be all right, whatever it is.”
And then, as they turned a corner, the hotel itself appeared in sight.
An enormous structure, not far from the lake, and set in a mass of
brilliant salvias and other autumn flowers and surrounded by well-kept
velvety greensward.
“What a peach of a hotel!” and Patty’s eyes danced with enthusiasm and
admiration. “All for us, Little Billee?”
“All for we! Room enough?”
“I should say so! I’m going to have a suite,—maybe two suites.”
“Everybody can have all the rooms he wants, and then some. I believe
there are about five hundred——”
“What?” cried Daisy Dow, “five hundred! I shall have a dozen at least.
What fun!”
The cars rolled up to the main entrance. Doormen, porters, and hallboys
appeared, and the laughing crowd trooped merrily up the steps.
“I never had such a lark!” declared Mona. “Oh, I’ve seen hotels as
big,—even bigger,—but never had one all to myself, so to speak. Isn’t
it just like Big Bill to get up this picnic!”
Marie Homer looked a little scared. The vastness of the place seemed to
awe her.
“Chr’up, Marie,” laughed her cousin, Kit Cameron. “You don’t have to use
any more rooms than you want. How shall we pick our quarters,
Farnsworth?”
“Well, let me see. Mr. and Mrs. Kenerley must select their rooms first.
Then the ladies of the party; and, if there are any rooms left after
that, we fellows will bunk in ’em.”
So, followed by the whole laughing troop, Adele and Jim chose their
apartments. They selected two elaborate suites on the second floor, for
Bill told them that there were scores of servants, and they were better
off if they had work to do.
“Isn’t it heavenly?” sighed Elise Farrington, dropping for a moment on a
cushioned window-seat, in Adele’s sitting-room, and gazing at the
beautiful view. “I want my rooms on this side of the house, too.”
“All the girls on this side,” decreed Adele, “and all the men on the
other. Or, if the men want a lake view, they can go up on the next
floor. If I have to comfort you girls, when you’re weeping with
homesickness, I want you near by. Marie, you’re most addicted to
nostalgia, I recommend you take this suite next to mine.”
So Marie was installed in a lovely apartment, next Adele’s and with
practically the same view of the lake and hills.
Daisy’s came next, then Mona’s, and Patty’s last. This brought Patty at
the other end of the long house, and just suited her. “For,” she said,
“there’s a balcony to this suite, and if I feel romantic, I can come out
here and bay the moon.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, young woman,” said Adele, severely. “You
do that moon-baying act, and you’ll be kidnapped again.”
“No, thank you,” and Patty shuddered, “I’ve had quite enough of that!”
The rooms were beautifully furnished, in good taste and harmonious
colourings. The hotel had been planned on an elaborate scale, but for
some reason, probably connected with the management, had not been
successful in this, its first season; and in swinging a business deal of
some big lumber tracts in that vicinity, it had fallen into Farnsworth’s
hands. He had no intention of keeping it, but intended to sell it to
advantage. But at present, it was his own property and he had conceived
the whim of this large-sized picnic.
“Boom! Boom!” sounded Channing’s deep bass voice in the hall. “That’s
the dressing-gong, people. Dinner in half an hour. No full dress
tonight. Just a fresh blouse and a flower in your hair, girls.”
“Isn’t he great?” said Patty to Mona, as they responded through their
closed doors.
But the girls’ suites of rooms could all be made to communicate, and
they ran back and forth without using the main hall.
“He is,” agreed Mona, who was brushing her hair at Patty’s
dressing-table. “And the more you see of him, the better you’ll like
him. He’s shy at first.”
“Shy! That great, big thing shy?”
“Yes; he tries to conceal it, but he is. Not with men, you know,—but
afraid of girls. Don’t tease him, Patty.”
“Me tease him!” and Patty looked like an injured saint. “I’m going to be
a Fairy Godmother to him. I’ll take care of him and shield him from you
hoydens, with your wiles. Now, go to your own rooms, Mona. I should
think, with half a dozen perfectly good rooms of your own, you might let
me have mine.”
“I can’t bear to leave you, Patty. You’re not much to look at,—I
know,—but somehow I forget your plainness, when——”
Mona dodged a powder-puff that Patty threw at her, and ran away to her
own rooms.
Half an hour later, Patty went slowly down the grand staircase.
Adele had decreed no evening dress that first night, so Patty wore a
little afternoon frock of flowered Dresden silk. It was simply made,
with a full skirt and many little flounces, and yellowed lace ruffles
fell away from her pretty throat and soft dimpled arms. Its pale
colouring and crisp frilliness suited well her dainty type, and she
looked a picture as she stood for a moment halfway down the stairs.
“Well, if you aren’t a sight for gods and little fishes!” exclaimed a
deep voice, and Patty saw Chickering Channing gazing at her from the
hall below. “Come on down,—let me eat you.”
As Patty reached the last step, he grasped her lightly with his two
hands and swung her to the floor beside him.
“Well!” exclaimed Patty, decidedly taken aback at this performance.
“Will you wait a minute while I revise my estimate of you?”
“For better or worse?”
“That sounds like something—I can’t think what—Declaration of
Independence, I guess.”
“Wrong! It’s from the Declaration of Dependence. But why revise?”
“Oh, I’ve ticketed you all wrong! Mona said you were shy! _Shy!_”
“Methinks the roguish Mona was guying you! Shyness is _not_ my strong
point. But, if you prefer it should be, I’ll cultivate it till I can shy
with the best of them. Would you like me better shy?”
“Indeed I should, if only to save me the trouble of that revision.”
“Shy it is, then.” Whereupon Mr. Channing began to fidget and stand on
one foot, then the other, and even managed to blush, as he stammered
out, “I s-say, Miss F-Fairfield,——”
It was such a perfect, yet not overdone burlesque of an embarrassed
youth, that Patty broke into peals of laughter.
“Don’t!” she cried. “Be yourself, whatever it is. I can’t revise back
and forth every two minutes! I say, Mr. Chickering Channing, you’re
going to be great fun, aren’t you?”
“Bid me to live and I will live, your Funnyman to be. Whatever you
desire, I’m it. So you see, I am a nice, handy man to have in the
house.”
“Indeed you are. I foresee we shall be friends. But what can I call you?
That whole title, as I just used it, is too long,—even for this big
house.”
“You know what the rest call me.”
Patty pouted a little. “I never call people what other people call
them.”
“Oh, Lord, more trouble!” and Chick rolled his eyes as if in despair.
“Well, choose a name for yourself——”
“No, I want one for you!”
“Oh, what a _funny_ young miss! Well, choose, but don’t be all night
about it. And I warn you if I don’t like it, I won’t let you use it.”
“‘_Shy!_’ Oh, my!” murmured Patty. “Well, I shall call you Chickadee,
whether you like it or not.”
“Oh, I like it,—I _love_ it! But, nearly as many people call me that as
Chick!”
“And I thought it was original with me! All right, I’ll think up
another, and I shan’t speak to you again until I’ve thought of it.”
Nonchalantly turning aside, Patty walked across the great hall to where
a few of the others had already gathered.
“Pretty Patty,” said Kit Cameron, in his wheedling way; “wilt thou
stroll with me, after dinner, through the moonlight?”
“She wilt not,” answered Adele, for her. “Look here, young folks, if I’m
to chaperon you, I’m going to be pretty strict about it. No strollings
in moonlights for yours! If you want gaiety, you may have a dance in the
ballroom. The strolling can wait till tomorrow, and then we’ll all go
for a nice walk round the lake.”
“A dance!” cried Patty, “better yet! Who would go mooning if there’s a
dance on? I’ll give you the first one, Kit. Oh, you haven’t asked for
it, have you?”
“But _I_ have, Patty,” said Farnsworth’s voice over her shoulder, “will
you give it to me?”
“I promised Kit,” said Patty, shortly, and then she turned to speak to
Bob Peyton about a golf game next day.