THE TEA-ROOM AT ARTEMIS LODGE
Patricia spent the next morning in a whirl of pleasantly conflicting
emotions, and, while she was posing in the studio for a rapid sketch by
Elinor, her head was humming with a perfect hive of delightful thoughts.
Bruce was off for the day on business, Judith was, of course, at school,
and so the three, Mrs. Nat, Elinor and Patricia, had the place to
themselves. And how they did chatter!
Patricia heard over and over again every particular of the interview
Elinor and Bruce had with the prima donna on their last flying visit to
New York; they discussed the possibilities of getting an attractive room
at Artemis Lodge at the very moderate price Patricia could afford; they
made plans for the welfare of Marty Sneath, who was to arrive and take
up her duties as studio-girl the next day; and, in spite of the fact
that it was only two short weeks since the travelers had left the north,
Patricia insisted on minute inquiries about everyone she knew.
But always, at the end of every other subject, they returned to the
great matter in hand--Patricia's enrolment as a singing student under
Madame Tancredi and her establishment at Artemis Lodge.
"I'm scared stiff at the thought of paying such a fortune for the
lessons," Patricia said ruefully. "Think of spending all that money for
one little half hour! And three lessons a week, too. Don't you think I
might do with less, Norn? I can make it up with practicing, you know."
Elinor shook her head and Mrs. Spicer counseled briskly, "Better stick
tight to rules, my dear. This Madame knows her business, it seems, and
if your operatic friend, says three, it must be as she commands. Thank
goodness, she didn't tell you to spend every afternoon there."
"Well, then, the only thing for me to do is to get a very cheap room,"
said Patricia decisively. "For I am just determined not to be sponging
on you and Bruce if I can help it."
Elinor was about to protest, but Mrs. Spicer with nods and head-shakes
signaled her to desist.
"That's the way to talk," she said heartily. "You'll enjoy every scrap
of progress that you make. We've got to pay for everything in this life
one way or another and it saves a lot trouble to begin square."
"Oh, I'm so glad you see it," cried Patricia. "I simply couldn't take
money for mere _indulgences_, even though I might for real hard study. I
can be just as happy in a little room as a big one, and I'll have this
lovely place to come to when I'm hankering after space, anyway."
It was settled, after a careful consultation of the little book which
Patricia called her "Incomings and Outgoings" that, since the lessons
took almost every cent of the modest income which Ted generously
insisted on sharing with his two younger sisters for the winter months,
Patricia was to accept the rent of her room at Artemis Lodge as a gift
from Bruce and Elinor and to keep the remnant of her own money for
current expenses.
"I'll be a perfect miser and that will help me to stay at home and
practice all the more," laughed Patricia as she settled down to the
posing again. "I do hope Artemis Lodge isn't a very top-lofty place,
with lots of maids to tip and a hundred ways of grabbing at my little
pile."
"You'll find out all its pitfalls _after_ you get there," said Mrs. Nat
with a grimness born of experience. "Don't look for too much. It isn't
human nature to be perfect. Besides, it ain't religious. If this good
old earth of ours was just one little mite better none of us would be
hankering so very specially after heaven."
Patricia tossed the suggestion of drawbacks to Artemis Lodge behind her
with a gay gesture, and if the clock had not struck at that minute would
have entered a strong protest. At the signal of release, however, she
flung off the drapery in which Elinor had posed her, and flew to the
window.
"The sun's out again, and it's come to stay!" she cried, peering down at
the streets with eager interest. "Oh, isn't it too jolly for words to
be really going to get my room and all! I'm so excited I simply can't
wait for the time to come."
But of course she did wait and with the very best grace in the world.
For she helped Elinor pack a box of warm half-worn clothing for the
worthless Sneaths in Rockham, and made some necessary repairs in her own
slightly travel-worn clothes.
"I want to be as fresh as possible, without being too wealthy looking,"
she said with a smile as she laid out her newest blouse and brushed her
hat with great nicety when the hour for getting ready for the tea-party
had arrived.
Judith had come in and was hurrying through her toilet at an unusual
rate of speed, but she paused and critically surveyed her sister with
her head first on one side and then on the other.
"You may as well give up trying to look like the deserving poor, Miss
Pat," she said emphatically. "You'll always be sort of _rich-ish_
looking, not real luxuriant, you know, but--but--" She hesitated for
just the right phrase. "Well, anyone would know you used a bath-brush
and took care of your hair," she ended lamely.
Patricia bubbled with mirth. "What a left-handed compliment, Judy. Is
that the best you can do for me? I'm glad I appear clean, anyway."
Judith began to fasten her frock, undisturbed. "You know perfectly well,
Miss Pat, that you're quite good-looking--not so lovely as Elinor, but
heaps prettier than Miriam or--or--me," she ended rather forlornly.
Patricia had come to understand the longing after beauty which was in
the depths of her small sister's secret heart and was quick to offer
balm.
"Look at us," she said, pulling Judith to the mirror beside her. "'Fess
up now Miss, that you are quite as fascinating as your elderly relative.
You forget that you've been growing and changing a lot since I've been
away."
Judith gazed at the reflection in the glass which showed her as a
slender childish figure with a lengthening mop of pale, ashy hair and a
face of delicate intensity. She really had not changed at all in
Patricia's short absence, but the different surroundings made both girls
view her with other eyes, and she seemed to have taken on new height and
color.
"I'm growing!" cried Judith rapturously, turning from the mirror to rush
into Elinor's room with the glorious news. "Oh, Elinor, I'm nearly up to
Miss Pat's ear-tip now."
Patricia heard Elinor's laughing comments with a smile of satisfaction
curving her pink lips. She knew that Judith did not measure a fraction
of an inch more than when she left Rockham, but she was glad that the
images in the glass had cheered the critical Judith, whose lamentations
about her size and coloring were always loudest when she faced a
looking-glass.
It was only a very little thing, this incident of cheering Judith, but
it warmed Patricia's already glowing heart and added the final drop to
her cup of happiness, and she started off on their expedition to the
Artemis tea-room with such a radiant face that Judith commented on it.
"Miss Pat," she whispered with a warning nudge as they fell behind the
other two in the crowded pavement, "you ought to take a tuck in your
smile. Everybody will be looking at us if you go along grinning like
that."
But Patricia only smiled the more at this and Judith gave her up in
despair of making any impression on her abounding good humor.
"She's perfectly dreadful, Mrs. Nat," she confided as she slipped to her
old friend's side, leaving Patricia to Elinor for the rest of the walk.
"She doesn't care a bit about how she looks. Lots of people turned to
stare at us."
Mrs. Spicer nodded approval of Patricia's reckless course. "Don't you
fret, my dear," she soothed Judith. "Miss Pat is worth looking at any
time and folks like to see a real happy person once in a while. Land
knows why we're all so afraid to show our joyful side to the world. Let
her alone. Good times don't last too long for any of us."
Judith meditated on this bit of wisdom and she watched Patricia closely
when they reached the street where the house was located. There was no
clouding of the bright face, however, at the sight of the substantial
graystone building, and Judith drew a sigh of relief that Patricia's
happy hour was lengthened by so much.
"Isn't it a perfect duck of a place?" said Patricia as they stood at the
wide entrance door. "It's just like some of the old houses I saw in
Belgium last summer--only fresher and newer, of course."
"Margaret said it was modeled after an old French house," said Elinor,
reaching for the shiny brass knob at the side of the green door. "The
people who planned it wanted to get what they called 'artistic
atmosphere' and a suitable setting for the budding geniuses within
doors."
"And they hit the nail on the head, _smack_," agreed Mrs. Nat as the
door swung open and a glimpse of a wide, paved inner courtyard made an
interesting background for the respectable, stout elderly woman who,
like the concierge abroad, guarded the entrance.
They were ushered across the courtyard--Patricia all the while gaping
shamelessly about at the four house-walls that formed the square about
the courtyard--and went up a red-carpeted, stone stair to the first
floor of the house, where they followed their affable guide through a
succession of passages, coming at last into a huge room at the door of
which she left them.
There was a murmur of well-modulated voices, a hum of light chatter, and
as they paused on the threshold for a moment, the sound of a couple of
notes struck carelessly on a piano made Patricia's cheeks glow.
"Isn't it a stunning big room?" she said in an undertone to Elinor, who
nodded appreciatively as she led the way into the nearest corner where a
comfortable divan and a couple of chairs stood invitingly empty.
The room was filled with girls of varying ages, with a scattering of
guests, and although it was as yet too early for tea, the place was
alive with chatting groups, some of whom had secured little tables
against future needs. The tea-table was at one end of the room, and the
big brass samovar was already sending out encouraging clouds of steamy
vapor. The girl behind the urn attracted Patricia's immediate attention.
"Look, Norn," she said in eager interest. "Isn't that Doris Leighton at
the tea-table? It's enough like her to be her twin, if it isn't
herself."
Elinor's surprise was quite as great as Patricia's on recognizing beyond
a doubt the fair hair and attractive figure which had so won Patricia's
admiration on her first visit to the art school many months ago. Doris
it was beyond a doubt, and grown more charming than ever, as they
quickly found on making themselves-known to her.
"I'm staying here for the winter," she explained to them while her hands
were busy with the tea-things. "I get my room free for attending to the
tea-table, and I am doing social secretary work in the mornings. I've
been intending to hunt you up, ever since I came back to town but I've
been so busy I could hardly see."
Patricia, in spite of her knowledge of Doris' brave struggle since the
loss of their money, could not help contrasting the present capable
Doris with the beauty of the class at the Academy whose severest task
had been to clean her big palette or wash her soiled paint brushes.
"That month at Greycroft while you were abroad set me up completely,"
Doris went on with an earnestness that was good to see. "I'll never
forget your kindness to me and mother, Elinor, and if there is ever
anything I can do to show how I feel, you must let me do it."
It was on the tip of Patricia's tongue to suggest that she give them
some hints of the inner workings of Artemis Lodge, but at that moment
Margaret Howes came in, and there was all the exclaiming and wondering
over the coincidence of Doris' presence to be gone over again, until the
arrival of a maid with a basket of hot buns put an end to their talk
with the tea-mistress.
Margaret led the way back to their corner. "It's great luck that Doris
should be here," she said with an exultant note in her voice. "She can
do a lot for you, Miss Pat, by way of avoiding the rocks among the
shoals. She'll know more about the real inside workings of these fair
damsels than you can find out all at once for yourself. And I advise you
to get her opinion of anyone you fancy, before you tie too closely to
them."
This was considered a good plan by all, and they intended to seek Doris
after her duties were over and put some leading questions to her. While
the tea was still circulating and they were deep in discussing the
various sorts of girls surrounding their corner, Doris came over to them
with a word of regret for her early flitting.
"It's my short hour today, and I have a lesson in domestic science to
give over in Brooklyn. I'm late, too," she said, pulling into her gloves
with nervous haste and glancing at the window near their corner. "Send
me your address, Elinor, and we'll have a real meeting some day soon.
Good-bye, Mrs. Nat. Good-bye, Judy, Don't forget to make Elinor hunt me
up, Miss Pat. Mercy, there goes my car now," and she fled precipitately.
Margaret Howes looked after her with approval in spite of her own
disappointed hopes. "Don't tell me that it isn't good for some people
to be poor," she said impressively. "Doris Leighton proves that beyond a
doubt. Did she tell you anything about Miss Ardsley, the new
directress?" she asked in a changed tone.
Elinor shook her head. "We were too much surprised to keep our wits, I
am afraid," she confessed. "We really ought to see her now--it's getting
late and Mrs. Spicer wants to make that six-ten train."
Margaret rose and made her way to another part of the room, where she
seemed to be making inquiries, for a girl in a faded green linen dress
nodded and then went out, returning quickly.
Margaret came back smiling. "Miss Ardsley is in today," she said, "and
will see us in a short while."
Patricia's color rose and she held her hands together under the cover of
her muff. The anxious moment seemed an age to her, and although the
green-robed girl had assured Margaret that the lady was on the way to
meet them, she was positive that it was at least half an hour until the
slim, silk-clad form of the directress of Artemis Lodge stood smiling
gently before them.
She was of that age between youth and middle age which shows at the same
time gray hairs among the dark braids and pink cheeks where the wrinkles
are beginning to hide. She wore a sober, well-cut gown and her few
ornaments were of the choicest kind. Her hands were soft and long and
somewhat faded, though carefully tended and of good shape.
Patricia on the first swift glance did not feel particularly drawn to
her, but after the introductions had been made by Margaret Howes, and
they were seated again, she began to revise her first hasty judgment.
Miss Ardsley was graciousness itself, and even the mention of Madame
Milano's name did not seem to heighten her original cordiality, but she
had disappointment for Patricia's high hopes in her accounts of the
popularity of Artemis Lodge.
"I assure you, my dear Mrs. Hayden, we have not a single empty room,"
she said with graceful regret. "Every apartment in the Lodge is filled
at present, and unless someone should leave, I do not see how we can
hope to have the pleasure of Miss Kendall's being with us."
Mrs. Spicer, always practical and to the point, demanded if there were
any prospect of a removal.
Miss Ardsley feared not, since the Lodge was so deservedly popular. "And
with the very best families, I assure you," she said with an earnestness
which Patricia wondered at. "We have two young millionairesses with us
now, and the social tone of the establishment is higher than ever this
year."
It was plain that the magic names of Hayden and Milano could do nothing
in this case, and Patricia gave up hope, plunging into a dark region of
despair from which it took a hard struggle on her part to emerge
sufficiently to smile her farewells to Miss Ardsley and make her way out
with the others with an appearance at least of cheerful indifference.
On the way back she was very silent and neither Elinor nor Judith
attempted to comfort her, but when they had reached the station and Mrs.
Spicer had bought her ticket and Bruce had appeared in the nick of time
with luggage checks and other necessities of travel, her face cleared
and she turned to her old friend with more of her usual happy air.
"I'm not going to give up just for one little disappointment, Mrs. Nat,"
she whispered as she clung to her in farewell. "I'll get into Artemis
Lodge and I'll have a splendid time there, in spite of everything."
Mrs. Nat patted her cheek approvingly. "Certain sure you will, my dear,"
she responded heartily. "Something's bound to happen, once you make your
mind up to it."
Patricia watched the train pull out of the big smoky shed, with a real
hope growing in her heart.
"Something's bound to happen," she repeated determinedly, and she took
Judith's arm and skipped a couple of steps along the dim platform, much
to that young lady's horror.
"It's simply bound to happen, Judy," she said out loud, but to Judith's
puzzled questions she would give no answer save a little confident
laugh.