ON THE TELEPHONE
When the young people returned to the ballroom, it presented a
decidedly changed appearance. Instead of an interior scene, it was a
winter landscape.
The floor was covered with snow-white canvas, not laid on smoothly, but
rumpled over bumps and hillocks, like a real snow field. The numerous
palms and evergreens that had decorated the room, were powdered with
flour and strewn with tufts of cotton, like snow. Also diamond dust had
been lightly sprinkled on them, and glittering crystal icicles hung
from the branches.
At each end of the room, on the wall, hung a beautiful bear-skin rug.
These rugs were for prizes, one for the girls and one for the boys. And
this was the game.
The girls were gathered at one end of the room and the boys at the
other, and one end was called the North Pole, and the other the South
Pole. Each player was given a small flag which they were to plant on
reaching the Pole.
This would have been an easy matter, but each traveller was obliged to
wear snowshoes. These were not the real thing, but smaller affairs made
of pasteboard. But when they were tied on, the wearer felt clumsy
indeed, and many of the girls declared they could not walk in them at
all. And in addition each one was blindfolded.
However, everybody made an attempt, and at a given signal the young
people started from their opposite ends of the room and endeavoured to
make progress toward the goal as they blindly stumbled along.
Patty concluded to move very slowly, thinking this the surest way to
make a successful trip. So she scuffled along among the other laughing
girls, now and then stumbling over a hillock, which was really a
hassock or a sofa cushion under the white floor covering. It was great
fun, and the girls cheered each other on as they pursued their blinded
way. And then about midway of the room they met the boys coming toward
them. Then there was scrambling, indeed, as the explorers tried to get
out of each other's way and follow their own routes.
It was a very long room, and Patty hadn't gone much more than halfway,
when she concluded to give up the race as being too tiresome. She made
her way to the side of the room, and reaching the wall she took off her
blinding handkerchief and kicked off the snowshoes. To her great
surprise she found that many of the other girls and some of the boys
had done the same thing, and not half of the original contestants were
still in the race. And, indeed, it proved to be much greater fun to
watch those who were still blindly groping along, than to stay in the
game.
At last the game was concluded, as Roger Farrington proudly planted his
flag at the very spot that designated the North Pole, and not long
after, Clementine Morse succeeded in safely reaching the South Pole. So
the beautiful rugs were given to these two as prizes, and every one
agreed that they had earned them.
Then, amid much laughter, everybody was unblindfolded, and they all sat
around on the snow mounds waiting for the next game.
A big snow man was brought in and set in the centre of the room. Of
course it was not real snow, but made of white plaster, gleaming all
over with diamond dust. But it was the traditional type of snow man,
with a top hat on, and grotesque features.
In the mouth of the figure was a cigarette, and each guest was
presented with a few snowballs, made of cotton wool. The game was to
knock the cigarette from the snow man's mouth with one of the snowballs.
Of course the cigarette was so arranged that the lightest touch of a
ball would dislodge it, and as one cigarette was displaced, Mr. Homer
supplied another.
The guests had been divided into two parties, and each side strove to
collect the greater number of cigarettes.
Some balls flew very wide of the mark, while others with unerring aim
would hit a cigarette squarely.
The game caused great hilarity, and everybody was anxious to throw
balls. They threw in turn, each having three balls at a time.
Patty was especially deft at this, and with true aim succeeded several
times.
Then when they tired of this play, a few more dances followed before it
was time to go home.
Some attendants came in and whisked away the snow hillocks and floor
covering, leaving the ballroom once again in order for dancing.
"Makes me feel young again, to play those kiddy games," said Kenneth,
as he was dancing with Patty.
"I like them," returned Patty; "I hate to think that my childhood is
over, and I love games of any kind."
"Your childhood will never be over," returned Kenneth; "I think you are
the incarnation of youth, and always will be."
"I'm not so much younger than you."
"Five years,--that's a long time at our age. By the way, when are the
Hepworths coming home?"
"Next week; and we're planning the loveliest reception for them. You
know their apartment is all ready, and we're going to have just a few
people to supper there, the night they return."
"Shall I be one of the few?"
"Well, rather! The best man at the wedding must surely be at the
home-coming. Doesn't it seem funny to think of Christine as mistress of
her own home? She'll be perfectly lovely, I know. My goodness gracious!
Ken, what time is it? I'm afraid I'm staying too late. I promised Nan
I'd leave at half-past twelve."
"It's not much more than that. Can't you stay for another dance?"
"No, I can't possibly. I must run right away, or my motor car will turn
into a pumpkin, and Louise into a white mouse. Take me to Mrs. Homer,
please, and I will say good-night to her."
But as they crossed the room, they met Van Reypen coming toward them.
"Our dance, I think," he said, coolly, as he took Patty's hand.
The music had just started, and its beautiful rhythm was too tempting
for Patty to resist.
"I'm just on my way home," she said, "but we'll go around the room
once, and then I must go."
"Once indeed!" said Philip, gaily; "we won't stop until the music does."
"Yes, we will; I must go now," but somehow or other they circled the
room several times. Patty loved dancing, and Philip was one of the best
of partners.
But at last she laughingly protested that she really must go home, and
they went together to say good-night to their hostess. And then Patty
said good-night to Philip, and ran away to the dressing-room, where
Louise was patiently waiting for her.
And soon, muffled up in her furs, they were rapidly spinning along
toward home.
"I didn't keep you waiting very long, did I, Louise?" said Patty,
kindly.
"No, Miss Patty, you're right on time. I expect you would have liked to
stay longer."
"Yes, I should, but I promised Mrs. Fairfield not to."
When at last Patty reached her own little boudoir, she declared she was
more tired than she had realised. So Louise took off her pretty frock,
and Patty sat in her blue silk dressing gown while the maid brushed her
hair. Then she brought her a cup of hot milk, and left her for the
night.
Patty wasn't sleepy, and she dawdled around her room, now and then
sipping the milk, and then looking over her engagements for the next
day.
"Oh," she thought, suddenly, "I've left my fan at the party. I'm sorry,
for it's my pet fan. Of course it will be safe there, but I think I'll
telephone Marie to look it up and put it away."
Knowing that the Homers would not yet have retired, Patty picked up her
telephone and called the number.
A masculine voice gave back a cheery "Hello!"
"Is this Mr. Homer?" said Patty.
"No, indeed. I'm Kit Cameron. Who are you, please?"
"Isn't this The Wimbledon apartment house?"
"It sure is."
"Isn't this 6483?"
"No, it's 6843. Please tell me who you are?"
A spirit of mischief entered into Patty. She knew this must be Marie
Homer's cousin, who lived on the floor above the Homers, and who, Mrs.
Homer had said, detested girls.
"But I have the wrong number," she said. "I didn't mean to call you."
"But since you did call me, you must tell me who you are."
"I'm a captive princess," said Patty, in rather a melancholy tone. "I'm
imprisoned in the dungeon of a castle."
"How awful! May I get a squad of soldiers and come to your rescue, oh,
fair lady?"
"Nay, nay, Sir Knight; and anyway you do not know that I am a fair
lady."
"Your voice tells me that. Surely such musical tones could belong only
to the most beautiful princess in the world."
"Oh, yes, I am THAT," and Patty laughed, roguishly; "but a well-behaved
princess would not be talking to a strange man. So I must say good-bye."
"Oh, no, no! wait a minute; you haven't told me your name yet."
"And I don't intend to. You detest girls, anyway."
"Yes, I always have, but you see I never met a princess before."
"You haven't met me yet."
"But I shall! Don't make any mistake about that."
"How can you? I'm going to ring off now, and you have no way of tracing
me."
"I can find out from Central."
"No, you can't."
"Why can't I?"
"Because I forbid you to do so."
"All right; then I can't find out that way, but I'll find out some
other way. I'll go on a quest."
"Goodness, what is a quest?"
"Oh, it just means that I henceforth devote my whole life to finding
you."
"But you can't find me, when you don't know my name."
"I'll make up a name for you. I'll call you Princess Poppycheek."
"How could you guess I'm a brunette?"
"I can tell it from your voice. You have snapping black eyes and dark
curly hair, and the reddest of red cheeks."
"Exactly right!" exclaimed Patty, giggling to think how far this
description was from her blonde pink-and-white type.
"I knew it was right!" exclaimed the voice, exultantly; "and I shall
find you very soon."
"Then I shall await your coming with interest. You prefer brunettes, do
you?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I have always admired blondes more, but I'm
quite willing to change my tastes for you. Do you sing?"
For answer, Patty sang softly into the telephone, the little song of
"Beware, take care, she is fooling thee."
Although she did little more than hum it, Mr. Cameron was greatly
impressed with her voice.
"By jove!" he exclaimed. "You CAN sing! Now, I can find you easily.
There are not many voices like that in this wicked world."
"Do you sing yourself? But I don't want to know, I haven't the least
interest in a stranger, and besides, I'm going to ring off now."
"Oh, wait a minute! I don't sing, but I do something better. Don't ring
off, just listen a minute."
Patty listened, and in a moment she heard a violin played softly. It
was played by a master hand, and she heard an exquisite rendition of
the "Spring Song."
"Beautiful!" she exclaimed, as the last notes died away, and then
suddenly realising that she herself was acting in a most unconventional
manner, she said abruptly, "Thank you; good-bye," and quickly hung up
her receiver.
For some time she sat thinking about it. Curled up in a big easy chair,
her blue silk boudoir gown trailing around her, she sat giggling over
her escapade.
"It's all right," she assured herself, "for of course I know who he is,
though he doesn't know me. He is Mrs. Homer's nephew, so it's just the
same as if I had met him properly. And, anyhow, he hasn't an idea who I
am, and he never can find out from the description he has of me!"
Still giggling over the episode, Patty went to bed and to sleep.
The next morning, as she thought it over, she realised that she hadn't
succeeded in securing her fan, and she determined to go around and see
Marie that afternoon, and get it.
So that afternoon she went to make her call.
"It was a beautiful party," she said to Marie, as the two girls chatted
together. "I love games for a change from dancing, and the games you
had were so novel."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," said Marie, "for I was afraid they
would seem too childish."
"No, indeed," returned Patty; "and now put on your hat and come out
with me for a little while. I'm going to a picture exhibition, and I'd
love to have you go too. But first, did I leave my fan here last
evening?"
"There was a beautiful fan left here,--an Empire fan. Is this yours?"
Marie produced the fan and Patty recognised it as her own.
"But I can't go this afternoon," said Marie, "because Cousin Kit is
coming down to practise some new music. Won't you stay and hear him
play? He is really a very good violinist."
Patty considered. She rather wanted to meet this young man, but she was
afraid he would think her forward. So after a little further chat, she
rose, saying she must go. And it was just as she was going out that Mr.
Cameron came in, with his violin under his arm.
Patty was obliged to pause a moment, as Marie presented her cousin, but
the young man, though courteous, showed no interest whatever in Miss
Fairfield. Patty's pretty face was almost invisible through her motor
veil, and as Mr. Cameron had no idea that she was the girl who had
talked to him the night before, and as he really had no interest in
girls in general, he merely made a very polite bow and went directly
toward the piano.
"I wish you'd stay and hear some music," said Marie, but Patty only
murmured a refusal, not wanting Mr. Cameron to hear her voice, lest he
recognise it.
He was an attractive looking man of fine physique and handsome face,
but he looked extremely dignified and not very good-natured.
"All musicians are cross," Patty thought to herself as she went down in
the elevator, "and I wasn't going to have that man think that I went
around to Marie's to see him!"
She decided to call for Elise to go to the art gallery with her, and
she found that young woman ready and glad to go.
"I hadn't a thing to do this afternoon," said Elise, as they started
off, "and I love to go anywhere with you, Patty. Shall we have a cup of
tea afterwards?"
And so it was after they had seen the pictures, and as they were
sitting in a cosy little tea-room, that Elise said suddenly:
"Do you know Mr. Cameron? He's a cousin of Marie Homer's."
"I don't know him," said Patty, smiling, "but I've been introduced to
him. Just as I was leaving Marie's to-day, he came in. But he was very
abstracted in his manner. He merely bowed, and without a word he went
straight on to the piano and began fussing with his music."
"You were just leaving, anyway?"
"Yes; but I would have remained a few moments, if he had been more
sociable. But, of course, I couldn't insist on his talking to me, if he
didn't want to."
"He doesn't like girls," said Elise, but as she spoke she smiled in a
self-conscious way.
"So I've heard," said Patty, smiling herself. "He seems young to be
what they call a woman-hater. I thought only old bachelors were that.
Well, he has no interest for me. There are plenty of boys in our own
set."
"Don't you tell, if I tell you something," and now Elise looked
decidedly important.
"What is it? I won't tell."
"Well, it's the funniest thing! That Mr. Cameron wants to meet me,
though he never has seen me."
"What!" exclaimed Patty, in astonishment. "Why does he want to meet
you?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. But he was at Marie's this morning, and asked
her if she knew any girl who was gay and merry and had a sweet voice,
and had dark hair and eyes and rosy cheeks. And Marie says she knows he
means me, and I think he does too! Isn't it exciting?"
"Yes," said Patty, drily. "But you don't sing much, Elise."
"Oh, of course I don't sing like you do, but I have a fairly decent
voice."
"But how mysterious it is. What does he know about you?"
"I don't know. It IS mysterious. He wouldn't tell Marie anything except
that he wanted to know the name of the girl he described; and he said
she must be friendly enough with Marie to call her up on the telephone
in the middle of the night."
"But did you do that?" asked Patty, who was really shaking with
laughter.
"Yes; I called her up last night after I got home from the party,
because I'd left my spangled scarf there, and I wanted her to put it
away safely for me."
"I always leave things at a party, too," said Patty, looking innocent.
"I left my fan at Marie's last night. So I went there to-day and got
it."
"Well, I thought I'd better telephone, for so many girls leave things
and they get scattered or lost."
"Well, what did your telephoning have to do with Mr. Cameron?"
"I don't know; that's the queer part of it. Perhaps the wires were
crossed and he heard me talking."
"H'm," said Patty, "perhaps he did. When are you going to meet him,
Elise?"
"I don't know; but Marie says she'll have a few friends to tea some day
soon, and she'll ask him. She says it'll have to be a very small tea,
because he hates to meet people."
"Why doesn't she have just you two? I think it would be more romantic."
"Oh, nonsense. This isn't romance. I think Mr. Cameron is a freak,
anyway. But it's all amusing, and I hope you'll be at the tea,
yourself, Patty."
"I will if I'm asked," said Patty.