PATRICIA RECEIVES AN INVITATION
The next few weeks sped pleasantly for Patricia.
Rosamond Merton was an ideal room-mate. She never intruded on Patricia's
privacy, nor withdrew unsociably when Patricia felt inclined for chat.
She allowed Patricia to make her own hours for use of the fine piano in
her sitting-room and was patient under the many changes which the
despotic Tancredi inflicted on the submissive Patricia, shifting her own
practicing with such delicate tact that her fellow student scarcely
realized her sacrifices.
"She's perfectly wonderful, Norn," declared Patricia, standing at the
studio window one Sunday night about the middle of February. "She never
gets cross or fussed like I do, and she is always so beautifully
dressed. I am sometimes quite ashamed of my plain self when we are going
about together. I do look awfully little-girly and prim in most of my
clothes. I wish I were more ornamental," she ended with a tiny
apologetic frown.
Judith looked at Elinor and nodded. "I knew it," she said. "I knew Miss
Pat would be getting spoiled by spending all her time with such a showy
person."
Patricia laughed a short, annoyed laugh. "Nonsense, Judy. I'm not a bit
different. I only wish I didn't have to put all my patrimony into Madame
Tancredi's pocket. I hate to go about with Rosamond, looking like her
maid. I've worn that same suit to every place we've gone and I believe
people think I sleep in it now."
Elinor looked slightly troubled. "If you'd only let us get you a new
frock----" she began.
Patricia cut her short. "Hardly," she said emphatically. "I've told you
all along that I wouldn't sponge on any of you. It's bad enough to take
so much from dear old Ted. No, I'll go on exactly as I planned, and I
won't get a single new thing until spring."
This virtuous declaration did not seem to stimulate her as it should
have done, for she added, rather dolefully for her, "I wish I were like
Constance Fellows or Ethel Walters. They never seem to mind being
shabby."
"You can scarcely call yourself shabby--and I'm sure Constance loves
beautiful things," said Elinor with gentle firmness. "You couldn't look
at her work and not realize how she gloried in color and form."
Judith wagged her head wisely. "Perhaps she can stand doing without
pretty things for herself," she suggested, "because she can put so much
of it into her work."
This thoughtful sifting for motives was so like Judith that Patricia
forgot her grievances in an amused laugh. "Good for you, Judy-pudy," she
cried, flinging an arm about her small sister. "There's a hint for me,
is it? I'll try to take it, Miss Minerva, and if you hear that my
exercises are growing too frilly for Tancredi's taste you'll know the
reason why."
Judith was not at all discomposed by her light-minded raillery. "I
should think it would be a very good thing for you to try, Miss Pat,"
she said sedately. "Clothes go out of fashion so dreadfully soon
nowadays and the singing exercises will last most of your life."
Patricia watched her leave the room to arrange the materials for the
salad dressing--Bruce always made the dressing on Sunday nights--and she
smiled at Elinor in a very tender fashion.
"Judy is a wonder," she confessed. "She has a mind of her own. I wonder
why she's taken such an aversion to Rosamond lately? She never misses a
chance to undermine her. Not openly, you know, but in a quiet way. I've
noticed it ever since Doris Leighton came back and we had the spread
that evening in her room."
"Judith couldn't have gotten it from Doris," said Elinor positively. "I
heard all that Doris said about Miss Merton, and it was rather nice. I
think you must be over-sensitive, Miss Pat. Judith has been at the Lodge
several times since then and she may have been talking with someone who
is envious of your Rosamond. She isn't as popular as she might be, you
know."
"Of course, she isn't," exclaimed Patricia, on the defensive at once.
"She doesn't choose to hobnob with everyone, and so they say she's stuck
up, and ultra, and exclusive. If she were as much of a snob as they say,
she certainly wouldn't have chosen to take me in."
Judith had returned, carrying the salad in its green bowl. She held it
precisely between her slender, pale hands as she stood still to confute
this heresy.
"You know perfectly well, Miss Pat, that there isn't a prettier girl in
the musical set in Artemis Lodge," she declared with a touch of wrath in
her calm tones. "You are related to a famous artist, and you have Madame
Milano for a friend. Miss Merton wouldn't look at you, either, if you
didn't have nice clothes and good manners, besides being very well-born
indeed, as she certainly knows."
With this blast delivered, Judith set the salad-bowl carefully down on
the table and left the room, her head high and her mane tossing.
Patricia, instead of being amused this time, looked annoyed. "Judy's
getting spoiled, Elinor," she said, turning away to ramble idly about
the room. "She's as conceited a young imp as I know. These stories of
hers have about turned her head. I wish you'd tell her for me that she
must behave properly to Rosamond, or she'll have to stay away from the
Lodge. I won't have her putting on her superior airs and looking
mysterious over nothing with me."
Elinor sighed over this change in the sunny Patricia, but only said with
a regretful glance at the discontented droop of her sister's golden
head:
"Judith's fancies are sometimes short-lived, my dear. I shouldn't notice
this one if I were you." And then to make a diversion she asked how the
lessons were coming on.
Patricia brightened at once. "I believe I'm doing pretty well," she said
hopefully. "Madame hardly says a word to me now, but she nods her head
a good deal. And she's letting me take some new exercises already."
"That looks promising," began Elinor, pleased to have turned the current
toward happier channels. "That is the best news----"
Here the door opened and Bruce, who had been out, came in. "Hullo, all
alone?" he said, with some surprise. "I thought Constance Fellows was
coming tonight. What's up? She's not ill, is she? There's a lot of
grippe going about just now, I hear."
Elinor explained that so far as they knew Constance was not affected by
the impending epidemic. "Miss Pat forgot to ask her in time," she said.
"And so she made an engagement with one of the girls, that is all,
Bruce. Are you going to make the salad in here? Judith has it all ready
for you."
"Just as soon as I shed my skin," returned Bruce gayly, throwing his
great-coat on the divan, with his hat and gloves. "I tell you, it's fine
weather--this. The stars are snapping and the moon-crescent is like
silver. It makes one glad to be alive."
Patricia, with her disquiet mood still hovering about her, came over to
the table to watch him begin operations. She always liked to see Bruce
mix the dressing and make the salad, and tonight his strong cheerfulness
seemed particularly good to her.
"I'm sorry I forgot about Constance, Bruce," she said, as he uncorked
the oil bottle. "I had two concerts with Rosamond and the music was so
perfectly heavenly that I didn't get back to earth until it was too late
to get her for tonight. I'll bring her over next week."
"Right-o," said Bruce genially. "We're all strong for Constance, you
know. Besides being a paint slinger of promise, she's the straight
goods. See as much of her as you can, little sister, for she's the sort
that true friends are made of."
Patricia really liked Constance immensely and had it not been for the
overshadowing Rosamond, would have chosen her for the close intimacy for
which Constance had shown she was quite ready and willing. But she had a
feeling that in so praising Constance, Bruce was neglecting Rosamond,
and she said rather petulantly:
"I can't be always looking her up, Bruce. You know she's busy and out of
the house most of the time. It would be different if she were studying
with Tancredi like Rosamond."
Bruce opened his eyes at this unusual peevishness on Patricia's part,
but he went on mixing his ingredients without comment, while Elinor, who
had been bringing in the rest of the picnic supper, flitted about,
straightening the room preparatory to lighting the candles for the
feast.
As she picked up Bruce's overcoat from the divan, some letters fell out
of the pockets, scattering over the floor. She stooped to collect them,
and gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Bruce Hayden, when did these come?" she asked, sorting the letters
rapidly into little piles on the table at his elbow.
Bruce regarded the envelopes with undisguised astonishment, and then he
broke into a guilty grin.
"Oh, thunder, I must have forgotten them!" he cried. "How in creation
did you unearth them?"
Elinor explained, while Patricia eagerly seized on one addressed to her
in Bruce's care and began to tear it open.
"It's from Madame Milano!" she cried excitedly. "Oh, Elinor, she's
inviting me to her afternoon reception today, and it's hours and hours
too late."
Bruce looked crestfallen. "But is Milano in town?" he argued. "She isn't
singing till Tuesday night, you know----"
Patricia thrust the sheet before him. "See for yourself," she said. "It
says the seventeenth, doesn't it? Look, Elinor, what a big sprawling
hand she writes."
Bruce shook his head dolefully over the clearly written date. "It's
today, all right," he admitted ruefully. "You've lost a jolly fine
chance of seeing opera folk at home, thanks to my block-headedness."
Judith joined the group, and when she heard of Patricia's misfortune she
put a consoling arm about her sister. "Never mind, Miss Pat dear," she
said. "Perhaps when Madame Milano knows how bad you feel about missing
her reception she'll do something that's a lot nicer for you."
Bruce chuckled and his face cleared. "Wait a minute," he said hastily,
and disappeared into the other room.
"What in the world--" began Elinor and then she, too, smiled. "He's
telephoning to Madame Milano. Listen, Patricia."
Patricia heard with rising hopes the deep regret of Bruce's rich tones
as he explained to the prima donna the reason Patricia had not availed
herself of the gracious invitation. The pauses in which Bruce listened
must have been filled to his satisfaction, for after he had hung up the
receiver he came back into the studio rubbing his hands gleefully.
"Did you hear me put it to her?" he asked, grinning. "I got her hotel
and then her apartment and then her maid, and finally the Madame
herself. She is sorrier than she was ten minutes ago and she is going to
ask you to her Monday 'Hour,' as she calls it, a much more intimate
affair, I can assure you."
Patricia clasped her hands rapturously. "Oh, you _duck_!" she cried
ardently. "You're the cleverest thing in the world to get me another
invitation. Am I to go alone? And what time am I to come?"
"You're to have your elder sister for a chaperon and your distinguished
brother-in-law as attendant," replied Bruce gravely. "I wanted to put in
a word for you, Judy, but I was afraid to push her too hard this time."
"I couldn't go, thank you," returned Judith composedly. "I have an extra
in French tomorrow after school and I've made an engagement to go to the
French church with Mademoiselle afterward."
Patricia was in the seventh heaven of delight at the prospect of
actually taking tea with the noted singer and her intimate friends. She
plied Bruce with innumerable questions and grew so Patricia-like and
merry over the absurd answers he manufactured to meet her demands that
the picnic supper was the gayest family affair they had had since
Patricia left them.
"I'll be over at three tomorrow, Elinor," she promised as they left her
at the green entrance door of Artemis Lodge after having walked home
with her through the sparkling night. "Don't let Bruce be late, or
she'll never forgive us."
Elinor promised to keep an eye on her erring husband and see that
everything went smoothly this time.
Patricia watched the three figures walking briskly down the street, and
she closed the door with a little bang.
"Won't Rosamond be surprised?" she smiled to herself, seeing the light
in the windows which told that their rooms were occupied.
She found Rosamond wrapped in a sumptuous down quilt, sitting over the
fire in a drowsy state, and she had to repeat the glorious news twice
before her friend responded. Even then she was not as interested as
Patricia had hoped.
"Yes, it's lovely," she said, slowly, "and I'm sure you'll have a good
time. Do you mind getting out my night things? I'm awfully sleepy and
I'm going straight to bed."
Patricia did as she was asked and then helped the heavy-lidded Rosamond
to her rose-and-gold room, saying good-night a little coolly.
"She might have tried to wake up for such splendid news," she thought, a
little dampened by this casual reception of her glad tidings.
The next morning Rosamond was still too sleepy and tired to rise and
Patricia was afraid that she might be really ill. But she denied more
than a slight cold--a "sleepy headache," as she called it--and asked to
be left alone to sleep it out.
Patricia left her still in bed when she started to the studio in the
afternoon, though she seemed almost herself again.
"Come in and tell me all about it the moment you get back," she called
as Patricia left her.
And Patricia promised blithely.