THE COUNTRY CLUB BALL
Before her mirror, Patty was putting the last touches to her Bo-Peep
costume, and it must be confessed she was viewing the effect with
admiration.
The gilt-framed glass gave back a lovely picture. The costume was one
of the prettiest Patty had ever worn, and was exceedingly becoming.
There was a short, quilted skirt of white satin and a panniered
overdress of gay, flowered silk, caught up with blue bows. A little
laced bodice and white chemisette completed the dress. Then there was
a broad-leafed shepherdess hat, trimmed with flowers, and under this
Patty's gold curls were bunched up on either side and tied with blue
ribbons. She wore high-heeled, buckled slippers, and carried a long,
white crook, trimmed with blossoms and fluttering ribbons.
She pranced and turned in front of the mirror, decidedly satisfied
with the whole effect. Then she caught up her basket of flowers, which
she carried because it added a pretty touch, and went downstairs.
It was a gay-looking party that waited for her in the hall. The two
Misses Crosby had been there to dinner, and also Mr. Hoyt and Mr.
Collins, and these, with the house party, were now all arrayed in
their fancy dress. As they had agreed on Christmas Day, they were all
in pairs, and as of course there could be no secrecy among them, they
had not yet put on their masks.
Mona and Roger were very magnificent as Queen Elizabeth and Sir Walter
Raleigh. Though Mona was not at all the type of the red-haired queen,
she looked very handsome in the regal robes and great, flaring collar,
while Roger was a veritable courtier in his picturesque garb.
Daisy and Mr. Collins were Pierrette and Pierrot. Their costumes were
black and white, Frenchy-looking affairs, with tossing pompons and
peaked caps.
The elder Miss Crosby and Jim Kenerley were Indians; and the warlike
brave and the young Indian maiden looked as if they might have stepped
out of the earliest pages of our country's history.
The other Miss Crosby and Hal Ferris were Italian peasants in national
costume.
Adele and Mr. Hoyt were the most simply dressed of all, but in their
plain Puritan garb they were effective and distinguished looking.
Perhaps, however, it was Philip Van Reypen whose costume received the
greatest applause. He had copied a picture of Bobby Shafto that had
been painted by a frivolous-minded artist, and his embroidered and
belaced coat of light blue silk was remindful of the period of the
gayest Louis. He wore white satin knee-breeches, white silk stockings,
and black slippers with enormous buckles. In accordance with the song,
there were large silver buckles at his knees; and his tri-corne hat
was a very marvel of gold lace and feathers. Full lace ruffles flapped
at his throat and wrists, and altogether he was an absolute dandy.
"You look like a valentine," said Patty, "or a birthday cake."
"You do look good enough to eat," declared Adele, as she took in the
gorgeous costume.
"Yes, I flatter myself it's the very last touch of Shaftoism," said
Philip, strutting about with an affected gait. "I say, Patty, you're
all kinds of a peach yourself."
"Yes, this frock is all right," said Patty, "but you simply take my
breath away, Phil. I didn't know anybody could look so beautiful! I
wish men dressed that way nowadays."
And then everybody admired everybody else until it was time to start.
Then each put on a little mask, which they were to wear at the ball
until supper-time. Patty's was of light blue silk with a short fall of
lace, and Philip's was of black satin.
"I can't wear this thing all the way there," declared Patty, taking
hers off again.
"Well, put it on just before you get there," enjoined Adele. "I've
taken great care that no one should know a word about our costumes,
and now if we are well masked they won't be able to guess who we are.
Even though they know we all came from our house, there are so many of
us, they can't tell us apart."
The Country Club was a handsome, spacious building, well away from the
outskirts of the town. But the motors took them there swiftly, and
soon they joined the large party of maskers in the Club ballroom.
There were perhaps a hundred people there, and Patty felt there was
little risk of being recognised. She did not know many of the Fern
Falls people, anyway, and they would scarcely know her in her
disguise.
"Of course the first dance is mine," said Philip, as the music began.
But after that dance was over, Patty was besieged by would-be
partners. Historical characters, foreigners, clowns, monks, and
knights in armour begged for dances with Little Bo-Peep. Patty was so
engrossed in looking at these wonderful personages, that she scarcely
noticed who put their names on her card. And in truth it made little
difference, as none of the men put their real names, and she hadn't
the slightest idea who they were.
"Help yourselves," she said, laughing, "to the dances before supper;
but don't touch the other side of the card. After the masks are off, I
shall have some say, myself, as to my partners!"
So the first half of the dances were variously signed for by Columbus
and Aladdin and Brother Sebastian and Jack Pudding and other such
names.
During each dance Patty would try to discover the identity of her
partner, but as she only succeeded in one or two cases, she gave it
up.
"For it doesn't make the slightest difference who you are," she said,
as she danced with Brother Sebastian, who was garbed as a Friar of
Orders Grey.
"No," he returned, in a hollow, sepulchral voice, which he seemed to
think suited to his monk's attire.
"And you needn't try to disguise your voice so desperately," said
Patty, laughing gaily, "for probably I don't know you, anyhow. And you
don't know me, do you?"
"I don't know your name," said the monk, still in hollow tones, "but I
know you're a dancer from the professional stage, and not just a young
woman in private life."
"Good gracious!" cried Patty, horrified. "I'm nothing of the sort! I'm
a simple-minded little country girl, and I dance because I can't help
it. I love to dance, but I must say that a monk's robe on one's
partner is a little troublesome. I think all the time I'm going to
trip on it."
"Oh, all right; I'll fix that," said the monk, and he held up the
skirts of his long robe until they cleared the floor.
"That's better," said Patty, "but it does spoil the picturesqueness of
your costume. Let's promenade for a while, and then you can let your
robes drag in proper monkian fashion."
"Much obliged to you for not saying monkey fashion! I certainly do
feel foolish, dressed up in this rig."
"Why, you ought not to, in that plain gown. Just look at the things
some of the men have on!"
"I know it. Look at that court jester; he must feel a fool!"
"But that's his part," laughed Patty; "rather clever, I think, to
dress as a fool, and then if you feel like a fool, you're right in
your part."
"I say, Miss Bo-Peep, you're clever, aren't you?"
"Not so very; but when talking to a learned monk, I try to be as wise
as I can. Oh, look at that stunning big man,--who is he?"
"Looks like one of the patriarchs; but I guess he's meant for King
Lear. See the wreath of flowers on his white hair."
"Did Lear wear flowers? I thought he wore a crown."
"Tut! tut! Little Bo-Peep, you must brush up your Shakespeare. Don't
you know King Lear became a little troubled in his head, and adorned
himself with a garland?"
"Well, he's awfully picturesque," said Patty, quite undisturbed by her
ignorance of the play, and looking admiringly at Lear's magnificent
court robes of velvet and ermine, and his long, flowing white hair and
beard, and the garland of flowers that lay loosely on the glistening
white wig and trailed down behind.
As they neared the picturesque figure, King Lear bowed low before
Patty, and held out his hand for her dance card.
It was the rule of the ball not to speak, but to indicate invitations
by gestures.
However, Patty had no reason to keep silent, as they were nearly all
strangers, so she laughed, and spoke right out: "I'd gladly give you a
dance, King Lear, but I haven't one left."
With another courtly bow, King Lear still seemed to insist on his
wish, and he took up her card, which she had tied to her crook by a
narrow ribbon. With surprise he saw the whole second page blank, and
pointed to it with an accusing gesture.
"Ah, yes," returned Patty, smiling, "but those are for my friends
after I know them. We unmask at supper-time, and then I shall use some
discrimination in bestowing my dances. If you want one of those you
must ask me for it after supper."
King Lear bowed submissively to Patty's decree, and was about to move
away, when a sudden thought struck him. He picked up Patty's card
again, and indicated a space between the last dance and the supper.
"Oh, I know what you mean," cried Patty. "You mean an 'extra.' But I
don't think they'll have any. And, anyway, I never engage for extras.
If they do have one, and you happen to be around, I'll give it to
you;--that's all I can say." And then Patty's next partner came, and
she danced away with him, leaving King Lear making his sweeping,
impressive bows.
"Who is he?" asked Patty, of Roger, who chanced to be her partner this
time.
"Don't know, I'm sure; but I know scarcely any of the people up here.
They seem to be a fine crowd, though. Have you noticed the Zenobia,
Queen of Palmyra? There she is now. Isn't she stunning?"
Patty looked round, to see a tall, majestic woman, dressed as Zenobia.
Her tiny mask hid only her eyes, and her beautiful, classic face well
accorded with the character she had chosen.
"She's beautiful!" declared Patty, with heartfelt admiration. "I wish
I was big and stunning, Roger, instead of a little scrap of humanity."
"What a silly you are, Patty Pink! Now, I've no doubt that tall,
majestic-looking creature wishes she could be a little fairy, like
you."
"But a big woman is so much more graceful and dignified."
"Patty, I do believe you're fishing! And I _know_ you're talking
nonsense! Dignified isn't just the term I should apply to you,--but if
there's anybody more graceful than you are, I've yet to see her."
"Oh, Roger, that's dear of you. You know very well, I hate flattery or
compliments, but when a real friend says a nice thing it does me good.
And, truly, it's the regret of my life, that I'm not about six inches
taller. There, look at Zenobia now. She's walking with that King Lear.
Aren't they a stunning couple?"
"Yes, they are. But if I were you, I wouldn't be envious of other
women's attractions. You have quite enough of your own."
"Never mind about me," said Patty, suddenly realising that she was
talking foolishly. "Let's talk about Mona. She's looking beautiful
to-night, Roger."
"She always does," and Roger had a strange thrill in his voice, that
struck a sympathetic chord in Patty's heart.
"What about her, Roger? Isn't she good to you?"
"Not very. She's capricious, Patty; sometimes awfully kind, and then
again she says things that cut deep. Patty, do you think she really
cares for that Lansing man?"
"I don't know, Roger. I can't make Mona out at all, lately. She used
to be so frank and open with me, and now she never talks confidences
at all."
"Well, I can't understand her, either. But here comes Mr. Collins,
looking for you, Patty. Is only half of this dance mine?"
"Yes, Roger. I had to chop up every one, to-night. You may have one
after supper, if you like."
Patty whirled through the various dances, and at the last one before
supper she found herself again with Philip Van Reypen.
"Why, I didn't know this was yours!" she cried, looking at her card,
where, sure enough, she saw the initials B. S.
"It sure is mine," returned Bobby Shafto; "but we're not going to
dance it."
"Why not, and what are we going to do?"
"We're going to wander away into the conservatory."
"There isn't any conservatory. This is a club-house, you know."
"Well, they've fixed up the gymnasium, so it's almost a conservatory.
It's full of palms and flowers and things, and it makes a perfectly
good imitation."
"But why do we go there?" asked Patty, as Philip led her away from the
dancing-room.
"Oh, to settle affairs of state." He led her to the gymnasium, and sure
enough, tall palms and flowering plants had been arranged to form little
nooks and bowers, which were evidently intended for tete-a-tete
conversations.
"You know," Philip began, as they found a pleasant seat, under some
palms, "you know, Patty, you promised me something."
"Didn't, neither."
"Yes, you did, and I'm going to hold you to your promise. You
promised----"
"'Rose, you promised!'" sang Patty, humming a foolish little song that
was an old-fashioned favourite.
"Yes, you _did_ promise, you exasperating little Rose, you! And I'm
going to keep you prisoner here, until you make it good! Patty, you
said you'd look into your heart, and tell me what you found there."
"Goodness me, Philip, did I really say that? Well, it will take me an
awful long while to tell you all that's in it."
"Really, Patty? Did you find so much?"
"Yes, heaps of things."
"But I mean about me."
"Oh, about you! Why, I don't know that there's anything there at all
about you."
"Oh, yes, there is; you can't fool me that way. Now, Patty, do be
serious. Look in your heart, and see if there isn't a little love for
me?"
Patty sat very still, and closed her eyes, as Philip could see through
the holes in her blue mask.
Then she opened them, and said, with a smile: "I looked and hunted
good, Philip, and I can't find a bit of love for you. But there's an
awful big, nice, warm friendship, if you care about that."
"I do care about that, Patty. I care very much for it, but I want
more."
Just at that moment King Lear and Zenobia strolled past them, and
Patty almost forgot Philip as she gazed after the two majestic
figures.
"Patty," he said, recalling her attention, "Patty, dear, I say I want
more."
"Piggy-wig!" exclaimed Patty, with her blue eyes twinkling at him
through the mask. "More what? I was looking at King Lear, and I lost
the thread of your discourse, Philip."
"Patty Fairfield, I'd like to shake you! Don't you _know_ what I'm
asking of you?"
"Well, even if I do, I must say, Philip, that I can't carry on a
serious conversation with a mask on. Now, you know, they take these
things off pretty soon, and then----"
"And then may I ask you again, Patty, and will you listen to me and
answer me?"
"Dunno. I make no promises. Philip, this dance is over. I expect
they're going to unmask now. Come on, let's go back to our crowd."
But just as they rose to go, Jim Kenerley approached, and King Lear
was with him.
"Little Bo-Peep," said the big Indian, "King Lear tells me that you
half promised him an extra, if there should be one."
"As it was only half a promise, then it means only half a dance," said
Patty, turning her laughing blue eyes to the majestic, flower-crowned
King. "Is there going to be an extra, Jim,--I mean Chief Mudjokivis,
or whatever your Indian name is?"
"I don't know, Bo-Peep. I'll go and see."
Jim went away, and as Philip had already gone, Patty was left alone
with the white-haired King.
With a slow, majestic air, he touched her gently on the arm, and
motioned for her to be seated. Then he sat down beside her, and
through the eyeholes of his mask, he looked straight into her eyes.
At his intent gaze, Patty felt almost frightened, but as her eyes met
his own, she became conscious of something familiar in the blue eyes
that looked at her, and then she heard King Lear whisper, softly:
"Apple Blossom!"
Patty fairly jumped; then, seeing the smile that came into his eyes,
she put out both hands to King Lear, and said, gladly: "Bill! Little
Billee! Oh, I _am_ glad to see you!"
"Are you, really?" And Bill Farnsworth's voice had a slight tremor in
it. "Are you sure of that, my girl?"
"Of course I am," and Patty had regained her gay demeanour, which she
had lost in her moment of intense surprise. "Oh, of course I am! I was
so sorry to have missed you last week. And Jim said you went back to
Arizona."
"I did expect to, but I was detained in New York, and only this
morning I found I could run up here and stay till to-morrow. I
couldn't get here earlier, and when I reached the house, you had all
started. So I got into these togs, and came along."
"Your togs are wonderful, Little Billee. I never saw you look so
stunning, not even as Father Neptune."
"That was a great show, wasn't it?" and Big Bill smiled at the
recollection. "But I say, Little Girl, you're looking rather wonderful
yourself to-night. Oh, Patty, it's good to see you again!"
"And it's good to see you; though it doesn't seem as if I had really
seen you. That mask and beard completely cover up your noble
countenance."
"And I wish you'd take off that dinky little scrap of blue, so I can
see if you are still my Apple Blossom Girl."
"But I thought you wanted the extra dance."
"I don't believe there's going to be any extra, after all. I think the
people are anxious to get their masks off, and if so we'll have our
dance after supper."