IN THE TEA-ROOM
The Sunset Tea-room did not belie its name. The draperies and
decorations were of true sunset tints,--gold and amber, with glints of
red, and all most harmonious and effective.
The quartette found a pleasant table, where the shaded lights cast a
soft glow over the pretty appointments, and Helen picked up the menu
card with pleased anticipation.
"You're just incorrigible, Bumble!" laughed Patty; "you promised me
you'd cut out sweet things for afternoon tea, yet I see you voraciously
devouring the cake list!"
"I know it, Patsy Poppet, but today is an exception,----"
"What day isn't? All right, girlie, but like Lady Jane in the play
'there will be too much of you in the coming by-and-by!'"
"There can't be too much of a good thing!" said Herron, gaily, "so go
ahead, Miss Barlow, choose all the puff paste and whipped cream you
want."
"If I did that, I'd order the whole card," Helen returned, "and that
wouldn't do at all."
"Like the story of the little pickaninny," put in Van Reypen; "they said
he was ill from eating too much watermelon. And a neighbour said, 'Law
sakes! Dey ain't no such t'ing as too much watermillion!' and the reply
was, 'Den dere wasn't enough boy!'"
"That's it exactly," and Helen smiled; "there aren't too many kinds of
cakes here,--but there isn't quite enough me!"
But after some careful consideration, she selected the most irresistible
dainties, and the others also made their choice.
"You never told us the 'Eagle' story," Herron reminded, as they waited
for their order to be served.
"That's so," said Patty, "what was it, Helen? Didn't you say it had to
do with the end of the war?"
"That's as you look at it. Here's the tale. You see, down at Beverly,
just before the close of the Revolution, there appeared a few
eagles----"
"Bald?" inquired Phil.
"Dunno if they were bald or long-haired or blonde,--but they were
eagles,--real, live American eagles. And they had never been seen in
that locality before. Well, their appearance heralded the end of the
Revolution,--and immediately it ended."
"Great!" cried Philip, a little ironically; "it reminds me of the slave
who called out, 'Oh, King live forever!' and _immediately_ the King
lived forever!"
"I shouldn't wonder if that's a better story than mine," laughed Helen,
"but I'll proceed with mine, as, if I don't, I may not get it done
before my cakies come. Well, the Revolution ended, and no eagles were
seen any more at all, in or near Beverly. Until,--near the close of the
Civil War, those same eagles appeared in Beverly again!"
"Sure they were the same ones? Pretty old birds!"
"Oh, eagles live thousands of years! That's _nothing_ for an eagle!
Anyway, the eagles came, and the Civil War soon came to its close."
"Now then for the point of this tale," said Herron. "Has friend eagle
showed up of late?"
"He has!" cried Helen triumphantly; "several eagles were seen there last
week! Now, _I_ believe this war will soon end!"
"The American eagle is a war-ender, all right!" declared Phil, "and I
hope to goodness, Helen, your pet scheme works out. Just how long after
the eagles' arrival is peace declared? Usually, I mean."
"That I can't say. Nor do I swear to the truth of the story. But I tell
the tale as 'twas told to me, and you can take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," said Patty, promptly. "I'm a wee bit superstitious, and
I like to think of the eagles appearing as a harbinger of hope of
peace,--like the Ark dove."
"It can't do any harm to believe it," and Philip smiled at her; "and it
may do good. If you believed in a thing I'm sure it would make me do so,
too, and if a lot of us believe, it might help to make it come true."
"Then we'll all believe," said Helen, "and I'm sure glad to be the
means,--in a small way,--of helping my country toward peace!"
"One can scarcely call it _more_ than a small way," Herron said,
mock-judicially, "and yet it's as much as many of us do. Even if we're
willing, we can't perform. I'm ready to fly to the ends of the earth for
my old Uncle Sam, but I have to await orders."
"And I can't help feeling glad that you do," interposed Helen. "What
would us girls do without you boys to play with? To be sure, we'll give
you up
"When it's 'Ready! Fire!' and you fire away,
And fight 'em to a finish for the U. S. A."
"For us, it's 'Ready! Fly!' and we fly away," and Philip looked eager at
the thought. "I hate to leave my ain fireside, and that of friends and
fellow citizens, but there is an urge----"
"You sound like Sam Blaney!" and Patty laughed. "He was always talking
about the Cosmic Urge."
"That isn't in it with the Urge of the Flag. Oh, you girls don't know
the _thrill_ of feeling that you can be of real help,--however small or
insignificant help it is!"
Patty gave Phil an admiring glance. She liked this sort of talk and
though she knew of his patriotism, she had rarely heard him express it
so strongly.
"Here's your cakaroons!" cried Herron, as the tray appeared, and the tea
and chocolate were served to them.
"Now, no war talk, for the moment," begged Helen. "It does interfere
with my enjoyment of my frugal fare, to get stirred up, even by
patriotism."
"Let's talk about our visit at the Club," said Patty, suddenly. "Did it
strike any of you that Mrs. Doremus was a very strange person?"
"Did it!" said Philip, with emphasis. "Well, _rather_!"
"As how?" asked Herron.
"To begin with, she was no lady," Van Reypen asserted.
"Just what do you mean?" pursued Herron.
"That's a little harsh," Patty demurred, "but she certainly acted
queer."
"What do you care?" Herron demanded, "she served the purpose of
chaperon, when no one else was there to do so."
"Yes, I know. The principal thing I noticed that seemed strange was that
she didn't knit!"
"My goodness gracious! I never thought of that!" exclaimed Herron.
"Perhaps she couldn't," laughed Patty.
"At least, she could have made a stab at it, which is what most women
do. Oh, you needn't laugh! I've observed them! They spend more time
holding their work off and looking at it, or counting stitches, or
picking back--whatever that is!--or correcting mistakes, or, just
patting and pinching the thing!"
"You're right, Mr. Herron," and Patty laughed at his graphic
description, which was greatly aided by his dramatic imitation of a
nervous knitter. "But Mrs. Doremus didn't even do that. Nor did she say
anything about it,--which was queer, I think."
"Yes, it was queer," agreed Helen, "though I hadn't thought of it
before. Oh, Patty! This cream cake is a _dream_!"
"A dream cake?" suggested Philip, "a cream cake dream cake,--well, what
I noticed especially about our friend and benefactor, was her shoes."
Herron looked up quickly.
"No lady would wear shoes like those!" Van Reypen asserted.
"I didn't see them," said Patty, "her dress was so long. Queer, to have
such very long skirts, nowadays."
"No lady would wear such a long skirt," Van Reypen went on.
"Oh, Phil, don't be so critical," and Patty shook her head at him. "Mrs.
Doremus wasn't fashionable, I know, nor even very well posted as to a
chaperon's duties, but she was kind, and she filled what I think is
known as a long-felt want."
"She told me something you haven't told me, Patty," and Helen looked
reproachfully at her cousin.
"What?"
"She says your Big Bill is coming to New York in February."
"She did! A lot she knows about it! She's a meddlesome Matty,--I think!
And, besides, he isn't,--'cause why? 'cause if he had been he would have
told his little Patty person!"
"How'd she know?" asked Philip.
"Dunno. She may have heard some rumours or had inside information from
somebody. I thought you'd be glad to hear it, Patty."
"I am, if it's true. But, I never believe good news, till I'm pretty
positive. It saves disappointment, lots of times."
"Little philosopher!" and Van Reypen gave her a sympathetic glance. "But
I shouldn't be surprised if that news were true, for I saw something in
the paper this morning that looked like it."
"When I get home, I'll have a letter," and Patty blushed a little, "and
I rather guess I'll be told, if there's anything to tell."
"Of course you will," said Herron. "Also, I'd not be surprised if Miss
Fairfield knows more herself than she tells! These letters from
Washington to personal friends are not to be read aloud in the
market-place,--for more reasons than one."
Patty looked conscious, but said nothing. Indeed, it was true that
Farnsworth often wrote bits of comment on subjects that Patty knew must
not be talked over nor his information divulged. And so, she preserved a
scrupulous secrecy regarding any war news her letters might hold.
Also, once in a while, Farnsworth sent Patty a little letter, sealed and
enclosed in another. This he sometimes asked her not to open until a
certain time, or he asked her to mail it in New York, for secret
reasons.
All of these matters Patty attended to with punctilious care and she
loved to think that she was helping her Little Billee and also her
country.
"One doesn't read one's love letters aloud,--naturally!" and Patty
looked down and blushed.
"Of course not!" cried Helen; "I should say _not_! And especially yours!
Oh, I know! You've read bits to me now and then, and if what you _omit_
is any more--ahem--well, turtle-dovish than what you _do_ read, and I've
no doubt it _is_----"
"It is," Patty returned, with unmoved equanimity. "What's the use of
being engaged if one may not be what you call turtle-dovey! I'm not a
bit embarrassed about it. But for my part, I think Mrs. Doremus was
decidedly over-curious and forward about me and my affairs."
"Unladylike," put in Van Reypen.
"How you harp on that word!" exclaimed Patty. "I don't think it was so
much that, as a lack of good breeding----"
"Oh, come now, Patty, didn't you catch on?"
"Catch on to what?"
"Why, that Mrs. Doremus was no lady,--because,--she was a man."
"What!"
"She sure was! And I'd like an explanation, Herron. I thought I'd let
the matter pass until I could see you alone, but I think it's better to
have it out here and now. You brought that person to us, you fixed up
the matter, now tell us about it."
George Herron burst into laughter.
"I own up!" he confessed, "I did it! Alone I did it! Oh, it _was_ a
joke!"
Patty looked puzzled. "A man?" she said; "masquerading?"
"Just that, dear lady," and Herron laughed afresh. "I couldn't help it!
There was no woman on the premises save the housekeeper's daughter, who
was only a girl of fifteen or so. There was no way to keep you girls
there for luncheon except by providing a chaperon. So,--I did my best.
Don't look so shocked. It was only a harmless jest. Surely, the quondam
chaperon was in no way objectionable; and, as Miss Fairfield admits,
she--or he--filled a long-felt want!"
"But who was she--or he?"
"One of the Club attendants. He's on the house force, sort of manager of
the heating and electricity departments. Well, I was put to it, as you
know, and I was asking him what to do, and he suggested,--or to be
accurate, he fell in with my suggestion,--that he slip into one of the
housekeeper's gowns and play 'Charley's Aunt.' So he did."
"What do you mean, 'Charley's Aunt'?" asked Helen.
"That's an old play, all college chaps know, where a young man played
chaperon just as Munson did today. Not going to be mad about it, are
you, Miss Fairfield?"
"Of course she isn't!" cried Helen; "I think it's a great joke! And, as
you say, we couldn't have stayed there, otherwise! Oh, Patty, don't get
on your Puritanic high horse! It was only a regard for a convention,
anyway, and the convention was regarded!"
Helen went off in peals of laughter at the reminiscence of the so-called
chaperon. "No wonder he wore a long skirt! To cover up his feet,--of
course! And his white wig! Oh, it was perfect! Where did he get a wig so
handy?"
"It was in a little room where a lot of things are, left, I believe,
from some theatrical jinks. Anyway, he said he could make up
perfectly,--and he did."
"Oh, he did! I think he was fine!"
"He was fine, Helen, as a masquerader," said Patty, slowly, "but I don't
think it was a fine performance,--by any means!" She looked gravely at
Herron, who reddened a little, but stood his ground.
"Oh, come, now, Miss Fairfield, I didn't mean any harm. Honest, I never
dreamed of offending you, or annoying you,--I thought only of how to
manage to keep you there for our little party. Moreover I thought you'd
think it a great joke,--honest, I did."
Herron's clear brown eyes were so earnest and his expression so
troubled, that Patty's heart was touched.
"I don't doubt it, Mr. Herron," and she smiled kindly at him, "but it
wasn't just the thing to do,--was it, Phil?"
"Oh, well, forget it, Pattibelle, and if you can't forget it--forgive
it, anyway. Herron meant no harm and I knew at once, that Dame
Doremus,--as I told you,--was no lady! But I saw through Herron's motive
as well as his joke, and there's no great harm done that I can see."
"I agree with Phil," and Helen nodded her head positively; "I'm jolly
glad you did it, for otherwise, I'd have had to come home without any
luncheon!"
"Than which there could be no worse hardship!" Herron sympathised. "Am I
forgiven, Miss Fairfield?"
"I'm not sure," Patty gave him a half smile, "I'll think it over. Didn't
you know this man?"
"Not from Adam! But, you know, you can size up a chap a lot from
appearances, and he was a good sort, and amenable to--well, to
argument."
"Golden argument," laughed Philip. "You put it over, all right, Herron,
old chap, and I'm sure Miss Fairfield will overlook her chaperon's
extra-sized feet! Had it not been that I noticed those, I might have
been fooled myself. For the boy,--isn't he a boy?"
"About twenty-five or so,--I should judge."
"Well, his face was boyish, and his general effect young, yet he donned
age with his wig and gown, and on the whole I call it a remarkable bit
of disguise."
"No wonder he didn't knit!" exclaimed Helen. "And no wonder he choked
when I proposed that we girls stay there longer!"
"He acted queerly all the time;" Patty looked thoughtful. "I'm thinking
he knew too much about me and my affairs."
"What are you getting at now, Patty?" Helen asked. "Think he'll reappear
in his proper person, and presume on our acquaintance?"
"No," said Patty, "I'm afraid he _won't_!"
Van Reypen looked at her.
"Of course, the chap's all right, eh, Herron? Credentials, and that?"
"Must be or they wouldn't have him in the Club."
"There are spies everywhere," said Patty, in a whisper.
"Oh, Pitty-Pat!" cried Helen, "is _that_ what's troubling you? Well,
well! Those letters you get from Washington do sure go to your head! I
see it, now, people! Bill tells Patty to look out for spies, and
so,--she sees them everywhere!"
"Spies in the brooks, spies in the pastry-cooks!" exclaimed Herron, and
Helen giggled.
"Yes, and I shouldn't wonder if Patty suspects every one of us!"
"You needn't laugh," and Patty shook her curly head. "There _is_ danger,
isn't there, Phil?"
"Of course, child. But even if this bad Mrs. Doremus was a spy,--she
learned nothing from us, today."
"She--he asked a heap of questions."
"But nothing of any importance. It seems to me that,--Munson, is that
his name?--only showed such curiosity as would become an elderly lady
talking with two charming girls. You practically told her--him,--of your
engagement, Patty, so you mustn't wonder that he showed some interest."
"I s'pose so. Well, we won't say anything more about it. I'm foolish, I
suppose,--but I don't like that sort of thing."
"Then I apologise," said Herron, heartily; "I'm truly sorry I did it,
but I ask you to believe that I would not have done it, had it occurred
to me for a moment that you would feel about it as you do."
"I do believe that," and Patty's blue eyes shone with forgiveness and
understanding. "I know, Mr. Herron, that you really did it out of the
kindest motives, and I exonerate you----"
"Wow! what a big word!" cried Helen. "If you're exonerated, Mr. Herron,
surely you can't ask for more! Why, I thought to be ex--what do you call
it? was what the Pope does!"
"No, my child, that's to be excommunicated, and Mr. Herron shan't be
that!" And Patty beamed full forgiveness on the culprit.