M’LLE FARINI!
According to Farnsworth’s plan, at luncheon, each girl moved her seat
one place to the left. This put Adele at the host’s left, and moved
Patty on farther, so that she was between Jim Kenerley and Chick
Channing.
“Welcome, little stranger,” said Chick, as they sat down. “I’ll have you
now, and again tonight at dinner, sitting by me side, and then life will
be a dreary blank, while you slowly jog all round the table, getting
back to me, two days after tomorrow. How the time will drag!”
“You’re so flattering!” and Patty pretended to be terribly pleased. But,
as a matter of fact, she was wishing she could sit next Little Billee,
and find out whether he was really angry at her. Also, she decided she
would tell him all about the telephone message, for he apparently
believed she had told him a falsehood. And, too, it occurred to her,
that he might not make any great distinction between calling and being
called on the telephone.
“What do you think about it? Shall us go?” said Chick, and Patty
realised, with a start, that she had been so lost in her thoughts, that
she hadn’t heard the talk at table.
“Go where?” she asked, looking blank.
“Oh, come back from dreamland, and learn what’s going on. Cameron knows
of a wonderful hermit, who lives in a shack in the woods and tells
fortunes. Do you want to snatch the veil from the hidden future, and
learn your fate?”
“Yes, indeed; I just love fortune tellers! Where is he, Kit?”
“Off in the woods, in a tumble-down old shanty. But he’s the real thing
in seers! I was out for an early morning prowl, and I discovered him.
Bobbink, that’s my pet bellhop, says he’s greatly patronised by the
populace, but though he gets lots of coin, he won’t move into better
quarters or disport himself more as a man of means.”
“Well, I want to go to see him,” Patty declared. “Will you go, Billee?”
“Can’t go this afternoon, Patty; I’m sorry, but I have another
engagement.”
“So have I,” said Daisy, looking a little conscious. “Let’s leave Mr.
Fortune Teller till tomorrow morning.”
All agreed to this, and after luncheon was over, they proceeded to plan
various sports.
“Tennis, Patty?” asked Chick.
“No; too poky.” And Patty gave a restless gesture, most unusual with
her, and only indulged in when she was bothered about some trifle. She
wanted to get a moment alone with Farnsworth and tell him about Phil.
She knew from the way Little Billee looked at her, or, rather, didn’t
look at her, that he was hurt or offended, or both.
“Golf then?” Chick went on.
“No, too slow.”
“Well, how ’bout lawn bowls?”
“What are they?”
“Never tried lawn bowls! Oh, they’re lots of fun. Come on.”
In a short time they had collected half a dozen people and were in the
midst of a gay game, when Farnsworth suddenly appeared, riding a big,
black horse. Very stunning he looked, for his riding togs were most
becoming and he sat his horse with all the grace and easy carelessness
of the Western rider.
“Oh, Billee,” cried Patty, dropping the bowling ball she was about to
roll, “I want to go riding!”
And then she was covered with chagrin, for Daisy came out of the hotel,
also garbed in the trimmest of riding costumes, and a groom led a horse
for her to mount.
“Do you, Patty?” said Bill, not unkindly, but with a disinterested air.
“You may. There are lots of horses in the stables.”
Patty quickly recovered her poise. “Thank you,” she cried, gaily; “a
little later, then. Will you go, Chick?”
“Will I! Just try me!”
“Well, we’ll finish this game, and then there will be time enough.”
The game over, they went for a ride. Patty’s riding habit was dark
green, of modish cut and style. She was a good horsewoman, though she
seldom rode. Channing, likewise, was a good rider, but he made no such
picturesque effect in the saddle as Big Bill.
“Whither away?” he said, as they started.
“Is it too far to go over to Poland Spring House?”
“Not a bit. It’s a goodish distance, but the road is splendid, and it
isn’t four yet.”
So they set off briskly for that destination. The exhilarating air and
exercise quite restored Patty’s good humour, and she cast off all
thought of petty botherations and enjoyed herself thoroughly.
“Great!” she exclaimed, smiling at Chick, as they flew along.
“Yes, isn’t it? And it’s not so very far, we’re nearing the approach to
the place now. We’ll have time for tea, and get back well before dark.”
“Lovely! Oh, what a big hotel! And _will_ you look at the squirrels!”
Sure enough, the lawn and verandas were dotted with fat gray squirrels.
They were very tame and had no fear of people or horses. They welcomed
Patty and Chick, by sitting up and blinking at them as they dismounted
and grooms took their horses away.
Asking for the tea room, they were shown the way, and ushered to a
pleasant table.
“Chocolate for me, please,” said Patty, as the waiter stood with poised
pencil. “I hate tea. So chocolate, and dear little fussy cakes.”
“Chocolate is mine, too, then. Whatsoever thou eatest that will I eat
also. Well, by Jove, will you look over there!”
Patty looked in the direction that Chick’s eyes indicated, and there, at
a small table, busily eating cakes and tea, sat Farnsworth and Daisy
Dow.
“Shall we join them?” asked Chick.
“Join them! Oh, no, they don’t want joiners. They’re absorbed in each
other.”
They did look so. Bill was earnestly talking and Daisy was listening
with equal intentness. Her face was bright and animated, while
Farnsworth’s was serious and thoughtful.
Patty was angry at herself for being one whit disturbed at sight of
them, thus chummily having their tea, and she tossed it off with a gay
laugh. “Besides, I’d rather chat with you alone than to have a
foursome.”
“Good girl, Patty,” and Chick nodded approvingly. “Do you know I think
you’re about as nice as anybody, after all.”
“So do I you,” and Patty sipped her chocolate with an air of
contentment. “This is a much bigger hotel than ours, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but ours is more beautiful, I think, and quite big enough for our
party.”
“Of course. Oh, what a stunning-looking woman! See, Chick, over toward
your left.”
Channing turned slightly to see a very handsome dark-eyed woman, who
smiled at him as their glances met.
“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed; “if it isn’t Maudie Kent. I say,
Patty, don’t you want to meet her? She’s an actress, or was, and she’s a
dear. Awfully good form and all that, and really worth while.”
“Yes, I’d love to know her,” said Patty, looking with interest at the
stunning gown the lady wore. It was of flame-coloured silk, veiled with
black net, and was matched by a wide hat of black with flame-coloured
plumes.
“Excuse me a moment, then,” and Channing rose and went over to where the
lady stood. She was alone, and he had no difficulty in persuading her to
come to their table.
“You dear child,” said Miss Kent, as Channing introduced them; “how
pretty you are! I’m so glad to know you. But what are you doing here
with Chick Channing?”
“Just having tea,” said Patty, smiling back into the big dark eyes that
looked at her so kindly.
“But are you staying here? Where are your people?”
“We are staying over at Freedom Hall,” she began, and then paused, for
with those eyes upon her, she couldn’t quite make it seem a rational
thing to do.
“Oh, it’s quite all right, Maudie,” Channing put in, “there’s a crowd of
us, with chaperons and things, and our good host, by the way, is right
across the room, at a tea-table.”
“That good-looking chap with the pretty girl? Oh, it’s Mr. Farnsworth!
Mayn’t I know her, too?”
“Now, see here, Maudie, you can’t know everybody that I do. Be content
with Miss Fairfield, at least for the present.”
“Oh, I am, more than content. No, I’ll have coffee, please. Chocolate is
only for the very slim.”
“Surely you are that,” ventured Patty, glancing at the graceful form of
the new acquaintance.
“But I wouldn’t be, if I indulged in sweet things. Enjoy them while you
may, my dear, in after years you’ll be glad you did.”
“What are you doing here, Maudie?” asked Channing. “Are you alone?”
“Yes; I’m having a concert tonight, and I’m in such trouble. You see,”
she turned to Patty, “I’m a sort of professional entertainer. I give
concerts or recitals, and I get performers of the very best and usually
they are most dependable and reliable. But tonight I have a concert
scheduled, and my prima donna is lacking. If she doesn’t come on this
next train, I don’t know what I shall do. I suppose I shall have to give
back the ticket money, and call the affair off, and that means a great
loss to me. For I have to pay the other performers their price just the
same.”
“That’s a shame,” said Channing, sympathetically. “But she’ll surely
come.”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve telegraphed and I can’t get her anywhere. I can’t
help thinking she deliberately threw me down because she received a
better offer, or something of the sort. But I mustn’t bore you with my
troubles. Forget it, Miss Fairfield, and don’t look so concerned.”
“I’m so sorry for you,” said Patty, “to go to all that trouble and
expense, and have it all for nothing.”
“Less than nothing,” said Chick, “for you stand to lose considerable, I
suppose.”
“Yes, well over five hundred dollars. Oh, here are the motorbuses from
the train. Now we’ll see.”
But though many guests arrived at the hotel the singer was not amongst
them.
“No,” said Miss Kent, scanning them sadly, “she isn’t here. Oh, what
shall I do?”
Patty’s mind was working fast. She knit her brows as she tried to think
calmly of a wild project that had come into her mind.
“Miss Kent,” she began, and stopped; “I wonder—that is——”
“Well, my dear, what is it? Do you want to ask something of me? Don’t
hesitate, I’m not very terrifying, am I, Chick?”
“No, indeed. What is it, Patty?”
“Oh, of course, it wouldn’t do,—I hate to suggest it, even,—but you
see, Miss Kent, I can sing——”
“And Patty can impersonate the absent singer! And nobody would ever know
the difference! Great!” cried Channing. “Oh, Maudie, your trouble is at
an end!”
“Now wait,” said Patty, blushing. “I am not a professional singer, but I
have studied with good masters, and I have a voice, not so very big, but
true. Forgive this plain speaking, but if I could help you out, Miss
Kent, I should be so glad.”
“You’re a little darling!” exclaimed Maud Kent; “I wonder if we _could_
carry off such a thing. You see, your coming here, as you just did, a
stranger, and talking to me only, looks quite as if you were the
arriving singer. That part’s all right. As to your voice, I have no
doubts about that, for you _didn’t_ say you sang ‘a little.’ And any
way, even a fair singer would do, in addition to the talent I have. But
Miss Fairfield, I can’t accept this from you. Will you take just the
price I expected to give M’lle Farini?”
“I couldn’t accept money, Miss Kent. That would be impossible. I’m glad
to do this to help you out, for it’s no trouble for me to sing, I love
to do it. And don’t bother about the payment. Give it to some charity,
if you like.”
“Oh, I can’t accept your services without pay! But if you knew what a
temptation it is!”
“Yield to it, then,” and Patty smiled at the troubled face. “But first,
you must hear my voice. You can’t decide before that. Where can we go?”
“Come up to my apartment, no one will hear us there, and if they should,
it’s no great harm. One may practise, I suppose. You may come too,
Chick, if you like.”
The three left the tea-room, and as they disappeared through the door,
Farnsworth caught sight of Patty’s face.
“What does that mean?” he cried, so angrily that Daisy was startled.
“What does what mean?”
“Did you see who went out that door?”
“No; who?”
“Patty and Chick Channing and Maudie Kent.”
“I know the first two, but who is Maudie Kent?”
“An actress! A woman Channing and I knew in San Francisco a good while
ago. What can she be doing here? And how did she get hold of Patty?
Though of course, Chick is responsible for that. But what are they up
to? I’m going after them.”
“Bill, don’t do anything so foolish! Patty has a right to visit the lady
if she wants to. It isn’t your business.”
“But Patty—with that woman!”
“Why, isn’t she a nice woman?”
“She’s an actress, I tell you.”
“Well, lots of actresses are lovely ladies. Isn’t this one?”
“Yes, of course, she’s a lovely lady. But Patty oughtn’t to be racing
round with her.”
“Patty wasn’t racing! She wouldn’t do such a thing in Poland Spring
House. Now, Bill, put it out of your mind. There’s no occasion for you
to get stirred up because Patty has made a new acquaintance. And I guess
Chick Channing can take care of her, he wouldn’t let her know anybody
who wasn’t all right.”
“Chick is thoughtless. He likes Maudie, and so do I. But she’s no fit
companion for Patty.”
“Why? Is Patty Fairfield better than us common people? Is she made of
finer clay? Wouldn’t you want _me_ to meet the Maudie lady?”
“Oh, you. Why, that wouldn’t matter so much.”
“Bill Farnsworth! What a speech! I guess I’m every bit as good as Patty
Fairfield.”
“Of course you are, Daisy. Don’t be silly. But you’re more—more
experienced, you know, and a little less—less conventional. Patty has
never had half the experience of the world that you have. I don’t want
her mixed up with that sort of people, and I won’t have it!”
“Well,” and Daisy spoke coldly, “I don’t see how you can help it.
They’ve gone off, and you can’t very well follow them, or have them
arrested. Probably Chick and Patty are starting for home. And I’m sure
it’s time we did.”
“But I can’t go off and leave Patty here!”
“You can’t do anything else. You’re not Patty’s keeper, Bill, and it’s
silly to act as if you were.”
“That’s so, Daisy.” Farnsworth’s fine face looked anxious and his eyes
were sad. “Come on, I suppose we had better be going. I’ll order the
horses round.”
Farnsworth kept a sharp eye out, but he saw no more of the trio who had
left the tea room, and who had so disturbed him. In quiet mood he rode
off at Daisy’s side, and they went back to the hotel.