Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
MISS PAT AT ARTEMIS LODGE
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
THE "MISS PAT" SERIES
Nine Volumes
Miss Pat and Her Sisters
Miss Pat at School
Miss Pat in the Old World
Miss Pat and Company, Limited
Miss Pat's Holidays at Greycroft
Miss Pat at Artemis Lodge
Miss Pat's Problem
Miss Pat in Buenos Ayres
Miss Pat's Career
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: "TANCREDI SAYS ROSAMOND IS GOING INTO OPERA AS SOON AS
SHE IS DONE WITH HER."]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
MISS PAT AT ARTEMIS LODGE
By
PEMBERTON GINTHER
Frontispiece By
THE AUTHOR
PHILADELPHIA
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1917, by
The John C. Winston Co.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
To Carolyn, a True Friend
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Miss Pat Arrives 9
II. Bruce's Surprise Party 24
III. The Tea-room at Artemis Lodge 40
IV. Tancredi's Two Pupils 57
V. Rosamond Insists 69
VI. Patricia Makes Another Friend 84
VII. A Dinner For Two 102
VIII. Patricia Receives an Invitation 116
IX. Rosamond's Friend 130
X. Miss Pat Plays Nurse 143
XI. The Reward of the Faithful 158
XII. Patricia Moves 172
XIII. The Turning Point 186
XIV. Constance's Other Side 201
XV. Patricia Decides To Make the Best of It 215
XVI. The Door Opens Again 227
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I
MISS PAT ARRIVES
"The train's in, Elinor, and she'll be here in a jiffy. Bruce said he'd
get a taxi, so as not to lose a minute. Do come and watch that corner
while I keep my eyes on this one," said Judith, in a sudden flurry.
She was standing with her nose pressed against the cool glass of the
studio window, staring eagerly out across the wintry square and scanning
the opposite streets with intent gaze, and even when she gestured
urgently to her older sister, her eyes never left the busy outdoor
scene.
"I wish the studio wasn't so high up in the air that we can't possibly
see the door," she regretted. "I'd so love to see her as she gets
out--Miss Pat always makes me feel sort of thrilly and excited when I
see her hopping out of a carriage or coming up the walk. Something nice
usually happens when she rushes in, all laughing and sparkly, doesn't
it, Elinor?" she ended, cuddling up against the tall, slender figure
which had joined her at the deep casement.
Elinor smiled and patted her pale hair. "I think, chick, that the best
thing that happens when Miss Pat comes in is--just Miss Pat herself."
Judith nodded, with her searching eyes on the crowded streets below.
"That must be it," she agreed thoughtfully. "I didn't think of it just
that way, but I guess you're right. She's so--so--pleasant that she
makes the stupid little things that happen seem like big eventful-ish
doings. At Greycroft this winter things seemed terribly exciting, and
now, when I look back at them, they really weren't so very wonderful."
"It's the spirit, my dearest Judy, that puts the sparkle into life,"
said Elinor absently, with her flexible artist hands straying idly over
the pale mass of her little sister's straight heavy locks. "Many girls
lead vastly more interesting and exciting lives than our dear Miss Pat,
but they have dull spirits, and so we don't notice them; while we're all
bursting with enthusiasm over every little thing she happens to be
doing. It's her gay, glad spirit that wins our interest, bless her
heart."
Judith nodded again. "I know," she said conclusively. "When Miriam and
she went into the chicken business no one got awfully excited over
Miriam's part of it, while they were all trying to help Miss Pat make a
success of it. And when we were fixing up the Social House, even old Mr.
Peberdy woke up when she scolded him. It's queer, isn't it, how she
makes you feel? She----"
A rap-a-tap-tap on the knocker sounded sharply and then, before either
Judith or Elinor could move, the door was flung open and Patricia,
followed by Bruce and Mrs. Spicer, rushed breathlessly in.
"Oh, you darlings!" she cried, hugging them both at once. "Oh, how
heavenly it is to be here, and how adorable you look! Judy, that's a
simply perfect green in that frock, and, Norn, you're lovelier than ever
in that queer faded yellow. The studio looks stunning. Oh, I'm so
excited that I don't know what I'm doing! To think of actually being
here at last!" And she flung down her hat on the long divan and,
crumpling her bright hair between both pink palms, she stepped back and
faced the group in the middle of the studio with laughing lips and wet
eyes.
Elinor, Judith and Bruce, with Mrs. Spicer in their midst, smiled back
at her, but did not speak, each feeling, somehow, that this was Miss
Pat's moment for utterance. On the brink of her new life--that life she
had so ardently longed and planned and worked for--she had become for
the moment the first figure in the scene. Tomorrow she would be gone
into the ranks of that great army which is building up the beautiful
world for others less gifted to live in, but today she was the center of
her little world.
"To think, Judy and Elinor and Bruce and Mrs. Jinny-Nat, that I'm here,
_here_, all ready to begin too with my music. One little day and then
I'll be a real singing student. Why, it takes my breath away--" And she
paused with a catch in her voice that threatened tears.
This was too much for the calm and practical Judith. "But you've been
simply crazy to be here, Miss Pat," she cried reprovingly. "You've
toiled and moiled on chickens and sculpture and candy and boarders and
everything just to be able at last to be a real singer. I don't see what
there is to be a cry-baby about now."
Patricia's merry peal rang out wholesomely and she caught Judith by her
slim shoulders and gave her a playful shake.
"It takes Ju to show up our little mistakes, doesn't it, Mrs. Nat?" she
cried gayly. "Thank you, Judy, for them kind words. I won't be a
cry-baby again; I promise you that. Come, Norn, tell us what you and
Bruce have been up to while we've been wandering toward the sunny South
this last two weeks. Is your stained glass window done, Norn, and has
Marty been behaving as well as ever? Oh, there's such a lot to talk
about, it's hard to know where to begin."
Mrs. Spicer laid aside her wraps and drew a deep chair to the fire. "I
move we get thawed out while we gabble," she proposed, with her deep,
husky chuckle. "I'm so frozen that it'll take a week of Sundays to shed
my icicles. This zero weather isn't particularly inspiring after the
balmy breezes of the Gulf Stream."
"Oh, do let's stay in for tea and go without any real dinner, Elinor,"
begged Patricia, impulsively. "Bruce said we were to take dinner at the
Ritz as a special treat, but I'd ever so much rather stay home for this
one night, if you don't mind."
Elinor looked inquiringly at her husband, who nodded and disappeared
into the adjoining room, and then she smiled at Mrs. Spicer and nodded
reassuringly at Judith, whose rather troubled expression did not escape
the quick eyes of her impetuous sister.
"Will it disappoint you, Judy?" she asked with slightly dampened ardor.
"I never thought of your being set on it----"
Judith waved her aside with a gesture of calm benignity. "I should
hope," she said magnificently, "that I could do without _food_ as well
as any of you." And she seated herself on the stool beside Mrs. Spicer
with an air of having settled the matter.
Patricia could not resist a ripple of merriment at her imposing manner.
"Squelched again," she laughed, trying vainly to look humble and
repentant. "Elinor, you really oughtn't to let Judy sacrifice herself
like this. She----"
Elinor sank into another wide chair at the opposite side of the hearth.
"We're only too glad to stay indoors this bitterly cold weather," she
replied easily. "Judith was just wishing before you came that we could
have a cosy supper here, but we all thought it would be more festive to
celebrate in some more lively spot than the old studio. We didn't have
any tea for you this afternoon because we wanted you to enjoy the dinner
all the more."
Patricia still looked rather uncertainly at Judith, whose dignified
manner was as impassive as ever. "Sure you don't mind, Ju?" she asked,
solicitous as ever for her small sister's happiness. "Mrs. Nat will soon
be thawed out, and----"
Judith drew herself up with beautiful composure. "Patricia Louise
Kendall, you will never be a great artist if your mind is so set on your
food," she said severely. "Do stop talking about dinners, and tell us
what you've seen down there among the alligators and palm trees."
Patricia flung out two protesting palms. "Ask Sinbad, otherwise Mrs.
Nathaniel Spicer," she retorted gayly, relieved by Judith's evident
sincerity, "I'm no earthly good on descriptive pieces, as you very well
know; and she can spin yarns that would make Robinson Crusoe sound like
a Cook excursion. I'll roll up here alongside of Elinor and censor her
reports when they get too highly colored."
Mrs. Spicer chuckled, rubbed her frosty fingers before the leaping blaze
and then plunged into the story of their fortnight's journey southward
with Miriam Halden, whom they had left with her mother in New Orleans,
looking forward, in spite of crutches, to the festivities of her
friends' coming-out parties.
Elinor and Judith asked a great many questions and Patricia threw in a
word or two occasionally, but for the most part she was silent, reveling
in the cosy warmth of the big room, with its easels and casts and
canvases and all the other familiar delightful implements of the
painter's craft.
As Mrs. Spicer finished and Patricia was beginning to bubble over with
eager questions about friends and acquaintances, Bruce came back into
the room, and, lighting a cigar, flung himself into the vacant lounging
chair at the other side of the hearth. He was smiling and Patricia knew
his expression meant something agreeable.
"What is it, Bruce?" she asked eagerly. "I know you've something up your
sleeve. Is it a surprise? Does Elinor know? Is anyone coming?"
Bruce pretended to be absorbed in his cigar and said not a word.
The others looked expectantly at him, and Judith, catching the
infection, slipped over to him and taking him gently by the ears,
turned his head directly toward them.
"You may as well tell us, Mr. Bruce," she urged firmly. "We haven't any
time to waste this evening on conundrums, you know."
Elinor suddenly seemed enlightened. "Oh, I think I know--" she began,
when Bruce interrupted her.
"No, you don't know it all," he announced loudly, as if fearful that the
news might come from some other source. "You may know that I was going
to order dinner served here in the studio, and you might guess that it
was to be a very festive one, but you couldn't possibly foresee who was
to share the humble board with us, no, not if you guessed a hundred
years."
"Pooh, I'm sure I could do it in one little hour if I tried," laughed
Patricia. "We don't know such a horde of people that it would take long
to run over every name we know."
"Oh, don't try, please don't!" cried Judith in alarm, lest valuable time
be lost. "Tell us, Bruce, do, Mrs. Nat hates to haggle over news."
There was a merry outcry at this transparent plea and then Bruce, with a
pretense of reluctance, gave in.
"We're going to have dinner here in the studio with real waiters, Judy,
and a bunch of flowers for each lady--don't interrupt, please, till I've
done. A bunch of violets for you and Elinor and Mrs. Spicer and the
happy song-bird there, and also for Miss Margaret Howes and Mrs. Hiram
Todd."
There was such a chorus of questions that Bruce held up his hands in
protest.
"Give me time, and I'll confess all," he entreated. "Don't be too hard
on a poor solitary man-body. Remember, you're four to one, and be easy.
I had asked the Todds for a surprise to you all, and today I met Miss
Howes on the street--just back in town and honing for a sight of old
friends, and I nailed her on the spot. Fortunately I could get them all
on the phone and they one and all bubbled with joy at the prospect of a
quiet little dinner in the shelter of our roof-tree. Margaret Howes is
sick of hotel life and Mrs. Todd isn't quite acclimated to it yet."
Mrs. Spicer shook her head. "We didn't even know there was a Mrs.
Hiram," she said with a chuckle. "When did it happen?"
"The very day after you left," replied Elinor. "They went to
Washington--Hiram had some more business there--and Marian had the time
of her life. She looks like a different girl, too. She's taken Hiram in
hand already, and he is beginning to seem like other people. She told me
the day we called on them here that she had given all of Hiram's wedding
outfit to the Salvation Army, and she meant to fit him out right here in
New York."
Patricia puckered her brow. "I thought Hiram was very well as he was,"
she said doubtfully. "He was the sort that couldn't be much changed, and
it seems silly to deck him out----"
Bruce interrupted her. "That isn't the idea, my dear Pat," he explained,
smiling. "Marian says Hiram has too much brains to look like a scarecrow
for ignorant people to look down on, so she's making him fit, merely to
enlighten them as to his merit."
Patricia was silenced, though not yet convinced. She turned to the
subject of Margaret Howes with eager interest, asking all sorts of
questions as to her progress in painting and her appearance and her life
of the past year, to none of which Bruce would answer a word, even
though urged by Elinor.
"Wait and find out for yourselves," he said teasingly. "It would take
off the bloom if I recounted all."
Elinor rose to lead the way to the rooms where they would dress. "I
don't believe he knows a single thing," she said emphatically. "Margaret
isn't a chatterbox and it was too bitterly cold on the streets today for
any lengthy confidences. Come along and get into your festive togs--we
don't want to miss a single minute, and dinner is very early tonight."
As Patricia followed the others out she bent gratefully over Bruce's
chair. Her large gray eyes were shining in the rosy firelight and her
face was sweetly serious.
"You're awfully good to me, Bruce," she said in a low tone. "I don't
deserve it one scrap--but I'll try all the harder to be worth while some
day."
Bruce looked up with his nicest smile and laid his strong hand over hers
on his chair-arm.
"You're very much worth while now--to me, Patsy dear," he said with
genuine affection. "I'm not looking ahead to those future days. Who
knows whether the success, when it comes, will make you nearer to us, or
will take you far away----"
She broke in eagerly with her hand pressed on her quickly beating heart.
"Oh, Bruce," she said with a little tinge of fear in her tone. "I'm
sometimes so afraid of that--losing you all in the work and hurry that
is coming to me. But you'll help me, won't you? You'll keep me
remembering how much we've always despised conceited, stuck-up people? I
may be a failure after all, but if I'm not, if I'm the tiniest bit of a
success and you see me getting selfish and horrid, you'll try to remind
me, won't you?"
Bruce smiled reassuringly up at her flushed face. "Rely on me to
puncture your balloon if it's needed, Miss Pat," he said in a tone that
was very comforting, and, as she dropped a light kiss on his dark,
waving hair, he added more soberly, "It's a mighty hard thing for a
singer to be unselfish and generous, I warn you, my dear. It's going to
be a struggle sometimes, though I don't doubt for an instant that you'll
win out with flying colors."
Patricia's gayety was surging back in a happy flood, and she
straightened up with a little rippling laugh, casting all her shadowy
fears behind her.
"Just you wait till I sing my first concert, Mr. Bruce Hayden," she
challenged, "and then tell me I'm a conceited goose, if you dare. I
wagger as Hannah Ann says, I'll be the same stupid, silly thing I am
now." And nodding brightly at him, she danced after the others, humming
a gay little tune as she went.