IN THE RUNABOUT
When they reached the house, Patty went straight up to Mr. Kenerley,
and said in a low tone, "Jim, I want to ask a favour of you."
"Anything at all, Patty Pink; anything, to the half of my kingdom!"
"Well, I want the little car, the runabout; and I want to go off for a
little while, all by myself."
"Patty! You amaze me! Does this mean a clandestine meeting with a
rustic swain? Oh, my child, I thought you were well brought up!"
"Don't tease me, Jim," and Patty looked really serious. "If you must
know, though, it's because I want to get away from the rustic swains. I
want a little time to myself. And if I stay here, the boys are all
around; and if I go to my room, the girls won't give me any peace, and,
oh, Jim, DO help me out!"
"Why, of course, you Blessed Infant. Trust all to your Uncle Jim! Come
along with me."
The two started down the walk toward the garage, and Adele called out,
"Where are you going?"
"Going to elope," Kenerley returned gaily over his shoulder, and they
went on.
He took out the little car, which Patty could easily run herself, and
putting her in, he jumped in beside her.
"I'll go with you, past the porch," he said, "and see you outside the
gate."
So they dashed by the group on the veranda, not heeding their chaff and
once outside the grounds, Jim said, "Are you sure you want to go alone,
Patty?"
"Yes, please, Jim. I want to think a little."
"Oh, you GIRL! you needn't tell ME! some chap's been making love to
you!"
"Nonsense!" but Patty's blush belied her words.
"I hope it IS nonsense, Patty, dear. You're too young to have a serious
affair yet awhile. Take an old friend's advice and say no this time."
"Of course I shall. Don't worry about me, Jim."
"No, indeed. You've good common sense in that curly golden pate of
yours. I'll get out here, and you go along, Patty, and have a nice
little maiden meditation all to yourself, and come back fancy free, but
don't stay out too late."
Kenerley got out of the car and went back to the house, and Patty drove
on alone.
It was just what she wanted, an opportunity to think over what Philip
had said. And she was fond of motoring alone, and an experienced
driver. She went slowly at first, enjoying the beautiful country with
its serene air of Sunday afternoon calm.
The trend of her thoughts was not a question of whether or not she
should accept Van Reypen; but more a dreamy recollection and living
over the scene at the Falls.
She pictured in her mind how really noble and handsome he looked, and
she almost wondered at herself why she had only a friendly feeling
toward him.
"But I like him better than Kenneth," she assured herself; "that is, I
like him MORE than I do Kenneth. Ken is an old dear, but he IS slow;
and Philip has all the nice ways and mannerisms that I do like in a
man. He's always equal to any occasion, without any effort. He's just
born so. He's an aristocrat like his aunt, but he hasn't a bit of
her,--well,--it is really a kind of snobbishness. She's intolerant of
people not in her own set. But Phil is kind and courteous to everybody.
And he has a sense of humour. I suppose that's what's the matter with
Ken. The poor boy hasn't a spark of fun in him except what I've banged
into his blessed old head. There's Kit Cameron now, he has too much fun
in him. He'd make anybody's life a practical joke. I don't believe he
half meant what he said to me in the swing last night. I think he would
have said the same to any girl, sitting there in the moonlight. Well, I
do seem to be growing up. I wish I had Nan here. She's so nice to talk
things over with. Not that I want to talk anything over. I believe it
isn't considered correct to tell about the proposals you have, but I
guess a mother wouldn't count,--even if she is a stepmother. And Nan is
such a duck of a stepmother! I'll certainly tell her about these
proposals I've had. I don't believe I'll ever have any more. But all
the same, I'm not going to get engaged yet! I'd rather be an old maid
than to take the first man who asks me. But there's one thing certain,
I do like Philip the best of the bunch!"
Patty went on along the highway, stopping now and then to gather a
particularly beautiful branch of wild rose, or a few spring beauties.
She had on a simple little frock of pink linen, with a sailor collar of
fine white embroidery, and a big black velvet bow at her throat. She
wore no hat but her golden hair was partly confined by a band of black
velvet. She had a light dust coat of pongee silk, though Jim had told
her there was a warmer coat in the car if she should want it.
When Kenerley returned to the group on the veranda a wild shout greeted
him, inquiring where Patty was.
"I told you she was going to elope," returned Jim; "I was merely
helping her along. I left her just outside the gate on her way to meet
her rustic swain."
"Nonsense, Jim," said his wife, "where did she go? Over to the
Crosbys'?"
"She didn't say anything to me about the Crosbys. In fact, Adele, she
didn't tell me where she was going, and I wasn't so inquisitive as to
ask her. I let my guests do as they like and go where they choose.
Patty asked me for the runabout and I gave it to her. If she had wanted
the touring car she could have had it,--or the limousine,--or the
wheelbarrow."
A smile passed over Van Reypen's face at the chance reference to the
last-named vehicle, and his intuitions told him that Patty had gone for
a solitary drive to get away from other people for a little while.
"Oh, LOOK who's here!" cried Daisy, suddenly, as a motor car came
whizzing up the steps and out jumped Bill Farnsworth.
"I just stopped for a minute," he said to Adele, "to see how you all
are after your party."
"All quite well," said Adele, "but sorry you couldn't stay here with us
instead of going on."
"Sorry, too," said Farnsworth. "Where's Miss Fairfield?" and he looked
about inquiringly.
"Gone for a drive," replied Adele, and Farnsworth made no further
reference to Patty. But his call was short and soon he was again
starting his car.
"Which way did Miss Fairfield go?" he murmured in a low voice to
Kenerley, as his car moved off.
"East," said Jim, with a teasing smile at Farnsworth, and then Bill was
gone.
He swung out on to the broad highway and turned east. There were no
bypaths near and he had an intention of following and overtaking Patty.
He wanted to see her, and with Bill Farnsworth to want to do anything
was to do it.
Now it chanced that Patty had had a detention. Though an expert driver,
and a fairly good mechanician for her own car, she was not entirely
familiar with the car she was driving, and when it stopped stock-still
at the side of the road, she found herself unable to discover the exact
difficulty.
She was not overanxious, for it was a frequented road and she felt sure
some car would come along, in whose driver she might feel sufficient
confidence to ask help. But it so chanced that she sat for some time
before any car came. The sun was warm and she threw off her coat,
really enjoying basking in the sunshine while she waited.
And it was this sudden apparition of a golden head shining in the
sunlight that gave Farnsworth a shock of surprise as he came up behind
Patty's car.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "there she is! In trouble, too. Jolly well I
came along, bless her heart! But it's funny if she can't manage the
car. I believe she's sitting there purposely."
For a few moments Bill sat looking at the yellow head and smiling
gently at it. Then he had an inspiration to drive right past her and
see if she would speak to him. She had been far from cordial the day
before and Farnsworth was uncertain whether she wanted to see him or
not.
So, driving slowly, he passed by Patty in her motionless car.
Patty jumped at the sound of some one coming, and intending to ask
help, held out her hand and said, "Please--" before she realised who it
was.
Farnsworth turned his head, stopped his car, whipped off his cap and
jumped out, saying, as he walked toward Patty's car, "An accident,
ma'am? Can I help you?"
A spirit of perversity rose in Patty's heart. Without knowing why, she
desired to inflict a hurt on the man who was smiling at her.
"I beg your pardon," she said, coldly, "I thought you were a stranger."
"I'll be a stranger, if you like," and Farnsworth bowed profoundly.
"Very well, I wish you would. Pray proceed with your journey," and
Patty bowed, and turned her head toward the opposite landscape.
"But you would ask a stranger to help you," said Farnsworth, feeling a
strong desire to shake the exasperating little pink figure.
"Not every stranger," said Patty. "I am waiting to select the one I
want."
"Oh, DO select me! I'm an awfully nice stranger, and incidentally, I
could fix that car of yours in a jiffy."
"Did Adele order you to fix this car?" and Patty's blue eyes gave Bill
a look of withering scorn.
"No, she did not."
"Then I can't think of allowing you to do it. I don't want you to do
ANYTHING for me except at Adele's orders!"
"You little goose! I've a notion to kidnap you, wild roses and all, and
take you off in my car."
"Did Adele order you to do THAT?"
"Patty, stop this nonsense! Of course I know what you mean, that I
asked you to dance in Adele's name, instead of in my own."
"Yes; I admit I prefer to be asked to dance, personally, and not
vi-vike--"
"Vicariously is the word you are floundering over," said Farnsworth
with utmost gravity; "well, now, I'll fix your car vicariously, or
personally, or any old way you like,--if you'll just behave yourself
and smile upon me."
"I don't want my car fixed."
"You prefer to stay here?"
"I do."
"Alone?"
"Alone." Patty tried very hard to look like a stone image but only
succeeded in looking like a very pretty pink-cheeked girl.
However, at her last word, and when Patty was just about to break into
a dimpled smile, Farnsworth achieved a most dignified and conventional
bow, replaced his cap, and without another glance at Patty,
deliberately got into his car and drove away. He passed Patty,
continuing east, and in a few moments was lost to sight, as he flew
down the road at a swift pace.
"Well!" remarked Miss Patricia Fairfield, aloud. "Well! Hooray for you,
Little Billee! I didn't know you had it in you to act like that!
But"--and her face clouded a little--"I suppose your head is so full of
Kitty Morton that you don't care what becomes of Patty Fairfield! H'm."
Patty sat still for some time, thinking over this new episode. She had
been rude to Farnsworth, and she had done it purposely. But she was
accustomed to having young men laugh at her pertness and chuckle over
her sauciness.
One or two cars passed her, but as she scrutinised the drivers, they
did not seem to be just the type of whom she cared to ask help; but
presently a small car came toward her, driven by a frank-looking,
pleasant-faced young man.
"Hello," he called out with the camaraderie of the road; "had a
breakdown? Want some help?"
"Yes, sir," and Patty spoke in a timid, subdued voice.
"Then I'm your man," he said, as he jumped out and came over to her
car. "My name's Peyton," he went on, "Bob Peyton, and very much at your
service. What's the matter?"
"I don't know, sir," and Patty surrendered to a mischievous impulse;
"I'm Mrs. Hemingway's maid; Mrs. Hemingway, sir, she can run the car,
but I can't."
"Where is Mrs. Hemingway?"
"When the car broke down, sir, she said she would go for help. I think
she went to that house over there."
"H'm! And so you're her maid. Personal maid, do you mean?"
"Not exactly, sir. I'm her new waitress, she was just taking me home,
sir."
Patty didn't know why she was talking this rubbish, but it popped into
her head, and the young man's eyes were so twinkly and gay, she felt
like playing a joke on him. She thought he would fix her car, and then
she would thank him and ride away, without having given her real name.
"Ah, my good girl," Mr. Peyton said, "and so you are a waitress. What
is your name?"
"Suzette, sir. I'm French."
"Yes, I can see that by looking at you! Well, Suzerte, are you an
experienced waitress?"
"Oh, yes, sir. I've worked in the best families and in,--and in hotels
and--and--"
"And on oceans liners, I presume! Well, Suzette, here's a proposition.
My sister wants a waitress, awfully. Hers has just left. If you will go
along with me to my sister's house, she will pay you twice what your
previous mistress did."
Patty appeared to consider the question.
"Who is your sister, sir?"
"Mrs. Brewster; she lives in that next place, where you see the red
brick chimneys."
Now Patty knew all about the Brewsters, although she had never met
them. They were great friends of the Kenerleys, and indeed the whole
house party was invited to dine at the Brewsters' the next night.
Adele, too, had spoken about Bob Brewster's brother, and Patty realised
they were friends and neighbours.
In her present mood, Patty was simply aching for an escapade. And she
thought it would be a pretty good practical joke if she should go to
Mrs. Brewster's and pretend to be a waitress. She would telephone Adele
what she was up to, and they would send another car for her that
evening. Perhaps if she had thought another moment she wouldn't have
done it, but on the impulse she said. "I'd love to get double wages,
sir, and I will go to your sister's, but what about Mrs. Hemingway's
car?"
"I will take you over to my sister's first,--it's only a short jump,
and then I'll come back and see about this car."
So Patty got out of her own car and into Bob Peyton's, and in a moment
they were spinning along toward the red chimneys.
The young man said not a word on the way, and Patty's spirits fell as
she began to think she had undertaken a foolish prank, with no fun in
it. But she realised that in her role of waitress she could not expect
the young man of the house to talk to her, so she sat demurely silent,
trying to look as much like a waitress as possible, and succeeding not
at all.
On reaching the house, which proved to be a large and elaborate affair,
Mr. Peyton drove around to a side door. He ushered Patty into a small
waiting-room, and went in search of his sister. Patty heard much gay
laughter from the drawing-rooms, and suddenly felt that her joke was
not as funny as she had expected. But she determined to carry it a
little further and see what might happen.
A charming young woman soon came to her, and said with a pleasant
smile, "Is this Suzette?"
"Yes, madame," and Patty's manner was quite all that was to be desired
in a waitress.
"I am Mrs. Brewster. My brother has told me the circumstances of his
finding you. I am not sure that I'm doing right in taking you away from
your present employer, but I'm going to be selfish enough to ask you to
help me out for a short time, anyway. I have guests for dinner, and my
waitress has gone. My guests are really important people and I was at
my wits' end how to manage, until you appeared. If you will only stay
and wait on my table at dinner, I will let you do as you choose
afterwards,--return to Mrs. Hemingway or remain with me."
The plan seemed to promise some fun to Patty. She would privately
telephone Adele, who would tell Jim. It was to be a joke on the rest of
them, especially Kit who had said Patty could never fool him. And ever
since the Belle Harcourt joke, which had not fooled Kit after all, she
wanted to try again. She would make Adele pretend she thought Patty was
lost, and both Kit and Philip would be greatly alarmed.
"I will stay for dinner, madame," she said, at last, "and afterward we
can decide. You may not like my work."
"I'm sure I shall; you seem capable, and my brother tells me you are
experienced. I fear though, your gown is a little,--a little--"
"I understand, madame. You see, this is my Sunday afternoon frock. If I
stay with you, I will send for my black ones. Perhaps, if I took off
the lace collar now."
"Yes, and the black bow. It is those things that make your garb
inappropriate. I will, of course, provide you with an apron and cap.
Will you come with me now to the dining-room, and I will show you about
your duties."
Mrs. Brewster gave Patty full directions about the serving of the
dinner and then provided her with a cap and apron. The trifle of muslin
and lace, when perched on Patty's gold curls, was really most becoming;
and though she removed her collar and bow, the frilled bretelles of the
dainty apron were quite as effective, and Patty looked like the kind of
waitress that is seen in amateur plays.
"If not asking too much, madame," she said, "may I telephone to a
friend?"
"Is it necessary?" and Mrs. Brewster looked a little surprised.
"It would be polite, I think, madame," returned Patty, with eyes cast
down, "as it is to some people with whom I expected to take supper.
They will wait for me, I fear?"
"Ah, yes, Suzette, you are right. You may telephone, but I will tell
you frankly, I do not like to have my servants make a practice of
telephoning to their friends."
"No, madame," and Patty's tone was most humble.
To her great delight the telephone was in a small booth by itself, and
Patty soon made Adele acquainted with the whole story.
Adele was not altogether pleased with the prank, but as she couldn't
help herself, she accepted the situation with a good grace, and
promised to send for Patty later in the evening.