THE BOYS IN KHAKI
"Oh, it was the best plan, but I did hate to have him run off like
that."
"Of course you did, Pattykins, but you would have flown into forty
conniption fits if he had stayed longer. I saw you, and you were getting
all nervous and 'stericky!'"
"I was not! You exaggerate so, Bumble, and I won't stand it! I was
upset, of course, at the thought of his going, but I had absolute
control of my nerves. It was all my own fault,--having the party, I
mean."
"You had the party for me, my child. Don't think you can fool your
grandmother! But it's all right, and I promised that Sweet William of
yours that I'd chirk you up, and keep you so interested and amused that
you'd forget his very existence,--let alone forgetting his absence.
Besides, there's a strong belief current in the best circles that
absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"It can't ours,--we're all the fond there is, now!"
"Turtle-doves! Well, give me a bit more chocolate, and we'll call it
square."
The two girls, in boudoir gowns and caps, were having their morning
chocolate in Patty's room, and had eagerly been rehearsing and
discussing the party of the night before.
Helen's pretty hair was tousled and her cap askew, as, perched
cross-legged on a couch, she nibbled toast and sipped chocolate
contentedly.
Patty, fresh and tidy as a rose, sat near by and did the honours of the
breakfast tray.
"You see," she said, absent-mindedly piling sugar into Helen's cup,
"I've decided to be sensible about this thing. I'm not going to----"
"You're going to get a Food Controller after you if you are so lavish
with that sugar! For Heaven's sake, Patty, stop! That's the third
spoonful!"
"Is it? I wasn't looking. As I say, I'm going to be sensible about
Little Billee's going away. He's got to go, and so I may as well make up
my mind to it."
"Sensible, indeed! Yet it doesn't seem to me such a marvellous triumph
of intellect or such a phenomenal force of will that brings about that
resolve!"
"In one more minute I shall throw a pillow at you, Bumble! I guess if
you were engaged to the biggest man in the world, you wouldn't let him
walk off to war----"
"He's going with the whole
Of his patriotic soul,
At the call of his country's flag!"
sang Helen, trilling the refrain of a song they had all sung the night
before.
"Yes, that's it. And what am _I_ to stand out against Uncle Samuel?"
"That's right, be patriotic and you will be happy,--you are a nice
child, Patty."
"_You_ would be, if you weren't so silly!"
"Me silly! Ah, well, better judges are better pleased!"
Helen rolled her eyes skyward, in mock resignation, and then began to
finger over Patty's engagement book.
"Tonight, Elise's party," she read; "will that be fun?"
"Oh, yes, she has lovely parties. And, write it in there for me, Bumble,
we've decided on next Monday night for a party for the boys in khaki."
"All right, I'll put it down. Who did the deciding?"
"Phil and I, last night. He says he'll make application to the Y. M. C.
A. committee or something and have them send us the pick of the lot."
"How funny! The best-looking ones? Do they have to pass an exam for it?"
"Don't be idiotic! Let me tell you, the most desirable ones are merely
the ones who most need a little pleasure or entertainment."
"How can they tell?"
"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the ones who are farthest from home and
mother,--or, who have been ill,----"
"Or parted from their best girls?"
"Yes, those are the saddest cases, of course!"
"Well, go ahead, I'll be best girl to 'em."
"You see, Philip knows the--the----"
"Chaplain?"
"Well, the somebody, who will pick out the boys,--soldiers and sailors
both, and I've agreed to entertain a few every Monday night, for the
present, anyway."
"You're a good girl, Patty; you're all right!"
"Oh, _thank_ you, dear, for your generous praise!"
"Yes; I foresee these parties will so interest and entertain you, that
I'll not have to work so hard to keep my agreement with your big man to
divert your saddened and aching heart."
"My heart's outside your jurisdiction,--and beside, I'm doing this party
to entertain you. You know, one can't have a guest without making
strenuous efforts to keep said guest merry and bright, please!"
"True, yes, true! But, give me half a chance, and I'll entertain myself.
Give me a pleasant home to visit, a lovely hostess, like----"
"Oh, _thank_ you!"
"Like Nan, and a few young men, and I'll ask nothing further."
"I seem to be left out of your scheme of things!"
"No, no! my angel child, not so, but far otherwise!"
The vivacious visitor flung aside her pillows and jumped up to embrace
Patty in a whirlwind flash of affection. Greatly given to chaffing,
Helen was truly fond of Patty, and the two were congenial and
affectionate.
"Now, one more tiny pour of chocolate, and one more popover, and my
matutinal meal is finished," Helen said, resuming her seat.
"Oh, Bumble! You know you are welcome to all you want, and more too,
but--but I thought you _did_ want to--to----"
"To help this too, too solid flesh to melt? Well, so I do,--but Patsy,
poppet, your talented cook does make such delectable dainties that I
can't resist. Just a teenty-weenty drop of choclum, there's a dear,
sweet cousin-girl!"
Patty laughed and gave Helen another cup full of the delicious cocoa,
and turned her glance aside, as a popover was lavishly buttered.
The morning mail came then, and as Jane brought the girls their letters,
Helen took hers, and suddenly gave a deep and hollow groan.
"What's the matter?" asked Patty, but half-heartedly, as her mail
contained a letter from Little Billee, which she was eagerly devouring.
"Matter enough!" wailed Bumble, "that botheration, that pest of my
existence, that everlasting nuisance, Chester Wilde, is coming here!"
"Here? When?"
"I dunno. Soon, he says. Today, most likely. I think I'll telephone him
not to come."
"Why? Why don't you let him?"
"Oh, he's such a persistent--er, wooer."
"Don't you care for him, Helen?"
"Not enough to marry him, as he insists I must do."
"Oh, well, let him come. I'll talk to him, if you don't want to. When
may he be expected?"
"Today, I suppose. Oh, of course, he'll only come to call,--and I forbid
you, Patty, to ask him to stay to dinner--or to come again."
"Wowly-wow-wow! What a cruel fair she is! All right, Bumble, dear, just
as you say. And now, scoot back to your own room,--unless you want more
chocolate?"
"N-no," and Bumble looked longingly at the tray. "No,--_no!_ of _course_
not!"
Patty laughed, and gently pushed her visitor out of the room, lest
temptation again overcome her.
The Monday evenings planned for the enjoyment of the boys in uniform
began to take shape and rapidly acquired considerable proportions.
Philip Van Reypen was a fine organiser and Helen Barlow ably seconded
his efforts, while Patty agreed and helped in matters of detail.
Elise was interested and there were half a dozen more of their own crowd
ready to help in any way available. Chester Wilde had put in an
appearance and Patty liked him from the first. A quick-witted,
pleasant-mannered young man, himself engaged in some clerical war work,
he declared his willingness to come over from his home in Philadelphia
and help with the Monday night parties.
Helen Barlow's pretended dislike of him was merely coquetry, Patty
surmised, and then as the elder Fairfields approved of young Wilde, he
soon became a frequent and welcome visitor.
Patty adhered to her plan of giving the enlisted men evenings of real
pleasure, and entertainment that was enjoyable to educated and cultured
minds. For the first evening, they planned a series of Living Pictures,
for, said the sagacious Patty, "give 'em something to look at that's
pretty and they're bound to like it!"
Elise Farrington and Daisy Dow were enthusiastic workers, and Mona and
Roger Farrington promised any help asked for.
As Farnsworth and Chick Channing were both gone away, the circle of
Patty's friends was depleted as to men, but Chester Wilde was a good
help and two or three other men were invited to assist.
Philip Van Reypen was still in the city, and his great efficiency and
good taste and judgment made him a valuable ally for the cause.
He and Patty planned the pictures, for Helen Barlow knew nothing of such
matters and Chester Wilde was better at carrying out orders than
originating plans.
"What do you think of this scheme," Van Reypen asked of Patty as they
began on the actual selection of subjects. "Say, three
pictures,--tableaux, you know, and have each of them introduce a bit of
entertainment of itself."
"Sounds fine," she agreed, "if only I had the least idea of what you're
driving at."
"You will have. Here's the gist of it. Say, an Oriental scene. Ladies in
rich Persian draperies and fallals posed about; men in the gorgeous
Eastern robes affected by our heathen contemporaries; all the properties
and effects in harmony,--you know I've oodles of that junk--and the
whole scene glittering and radiant."
"Beautiful! Great! But is that all?"
"Not so but far otherwise. Now, after the eager audience have feasted
their eyes on the sight, and you know, it isn't to be a motionless
picture,----"
"Then it must be a motion picture!"
"It is, in this sense. The ladies and the men walk about, or languidly
wave their peacock feather fans, or sink gracefully on divans, but of
course, no words are spoken."
"Pantomime, then."
"Yes; rather like a pantomime. Well, then, in comes an Oriental juggler,
who does tricks,----"
"I see! Oh, Phil, that's splendid! Just what I wanted! And he does real
tricks,--good tricks,--and they interest the audience of themselves, and
at the same time there's the beautiful scenic effect going on!"
"Yes,--a poor scheme,--but mine own."
"A fine scheme! Oh, I see enormous possibilities in it!"
"Then perhaps on another occasion, a Sylvan scene,--a woodland
effect,--and in it give a bit of 'As You Like It,' or something of that
sort. Another time, a Venetian scene, and you can sing with the
gondoliers."
"Yes, yes, I see it all!"
"Oh, you do! Then you've no further need of my services."
"Don't be a silly! Of course I want you. I couldn't do any of it alone.
How long before you go to Wilmington, or wherever you're going?"
"Dunno! but it won't matter. I can run up here often. An aviator's life
is not a busy one."
"Really? Why isn't it?"
"Oh, it is, of course, in a sense. But there's not the same strenuous
rush there is in other fields. You see we're not fly-by-nights, for one
thing."
"Oh, yes, outside daylight hours you're free to play by yourself?"
"Perhaps not all of that, but, don't you worry, my lady, I'll play
hookey, if need be, to get up here to look after your interests."
"All right. Now we can't put a whole lot of time and trouble on
rehearsals and all that, you know."
"No; my idea was to have these things almost impromptu. Let us plan it
all out pretty well beforehand, and then let the performers each time
come early, and get posted as to their parts, and the star performer
will do the rest."
"Star performer?"
"Yes; I mean, each time have an entertainer, like the juggler----"
"A professional?"
"Not necessarily. I know a chap who does wonderful legerdemain, who'd be
glad to come to entertain Our Boys."
"Oh, yes, I see. And I'll sing."
"Yes, you can sing, as special character in some tableau, don't you see?
You could be a mermaid or a Lorelei, sitting on a rock."
"With a lute?"
"Yes, and your hair down, and a gold comb and a mirror, while you comb
your shining goldilocks."
"Nixy! Not my hair down. All the rest, but now I'm engaged, I've put
away childish things."
"Pshaw, don't be a silly! But never mind those details. And, too, if you
don't fancy the mermaid rôle, have a bit of a scene about 'tenting
tonight on the old camp ground,' and you can come on as a Red Cross
nurse, and sing----"
"Oh, yes, and the boys in khaki can help make up the picture!"
"'Course they can. And another time, we'll get up a ship scene, I don't
know just how yet, but I'll plan it----"
"We could have the mermaid come to the side of the ship."
"Ah, coming around to the mermaid rôle, are you? Well, those schemes are
all right. Now, what shall we choose for the first one?"
"Not soldiers or sailors. Let them see some stunning show first."
"Oriental?"
"Yes, I guess so. Your idea of the juggler is splendid. He can come on
the stage like those Hindoo fakirs, you know,----"
"Yes, that's what I meant."
"You know, there's not so very much room----"
"Want to go over to Elise's, and have it all in her casino?"
"N-no,--not at first, anyway. You see, Phil, I suppose it is nothing but
pride and vain glory,--but _I_ thought up this plan,--and I want to have
it in my own home."
"So you shall! I don't blame you. If Elise wants to, let her get up
something herself."
"Probably she will. But I want mine here."
"That's all right, Patty-girl. Why, there's plenty of room. We needn't
ask so very many guests,--say a dozen or so the first time, and see how
it works out."
"Oh, we could accommodate twenty or twenty-four, I think. You see we'd
use these connecting rooms, and this room would hold about thirty
chairs."
"All right. Now, say we plan the scene. I've all that big chest full of
Oriental costumes, you know, and we don't want very much in the way of
actual scenery. A couple of divans heaped with pillows, and some of
those hookah pipes standing round--then, the people in costume,--there's
your setting,--see? Then, in comes your juggler, also in appropriate
costume, and he does his tricks, and the people on the stage admire and
applaud, and the people in the audience do likewise."
"Fine! And afterward, we have a little feast, and a little dance, and
maybe sing a song or two for a good-night chorus."
"That's the ticket! Now, for the list of those who take part, and a few
details of that sort, and our preliminary work is done!"