and a love of intrigue triumphed. She tiptoed over and received the
offering. There was no knife or fork, but primitive methods suffice in a
case of real starvation. She finished the turkey and buried the plate
beneath a pile of algebra papers. It was Osaki's daily business to empty
the wastebasket; the plate in due course would be restored to its shelf.
A few moments later a scurrying footfall sounded at the door, and a
little Junior A. darted to Patty's side. She cast a conspiratorial
glance over her shoulder as she drew from a bulging blouse two buttered
rolls.
"Take 'em quick!" she panted. "I must hurry back, or they'll suspect. I
asked to be excused to get a handkerchief. Keep up your courage. We
won't let you starve. It's splendid!"
She thrust the rolls into Patty's lap and vanished.
Patty found it comforting to know that the school was with her. The
attractions of martyrdom are enhanced by the knowledge of an audience.
Also, the rolls were a grateful addition to the turkey; her five-hour
appetite was still insistent. She finished one of them and was about to
begin on the second, when furtive footfalls sounded behind her, and one
of the maids slipped a paper plate over her shoulder.
"Here's some fresh gingerbread, Miss Patty. Cook says--"
The sound of a closing door startled her, and she scurried off like a
detected thief.
Patty placed her second roll in the wastebasket in company with the
turkey plate, and was just starting on the gingerbread, when a
scrambling sounded at the end window. A blue hat appeared momentarily
over the sill, its owner boosted from below, and an unidentified hand
sent an orange rolling down the center aisle. Patty hastily intercepted
its course and dropped it into the wastebasket. Luncheon would be over
momentarily, and a visit from Miss Lord was imminent. This influx of
supplies was growing embarrassing.
She heard the rising flood of talk as the girls poured from the
dining-room. She knew that sympathetic groups were viewing her from the
open doors behind. Judging from the ceaseless shuffle of footsteps, all
Saint Ursula's had errands that led past the schoolroom door. Patty did
not cast a glance behind, but with rigid shoulders stared into space.
Presently a rattling sounded above her head. She raised startled eyes to
a register set in the ceiling, and saw Irene McCullough's anxious face
peering through the opening.
"You can live for days on chocolates," came in a stage whisper. "I'm
awfully sorry there's only half a pound; I ate the rest last night."
The register was lifted out, and a box was swiftly lowered by a string.
Irene was chief of the scabs.
"Thank you, Irene," Patty returned in a haughty stage whisper. "I do not
care to accept any--"
Miss Lord's voice became audible in the hall.
"I thought, young ladies, that afternoon recreation was to be spent out
of doors?"
Patty just had time to snatch the box and drop it in her lap, with an
open essay book above, when Miss Lord advanced into the room. Patty's
face assumed an air of suffering stoicism, as she stared ahead, in the
profound hope that Irene would have sense enough to remove eight feet of
dangling string. Miss Lord was followed by Osaki, carrying a tray with
two slices of dry bread and a glass of water.
"Have you finished your Latin, Patty?"
"No, Miss Lord."
"Why not?"
"I am going to do to-morrow's lesson in afternoon study hour."
Patty's tone was respectful, but her meaning was clear. She emphasized
slightly the word "to-morrow."
"You will do the twenty lines immediately."
A speaking silence from Patty.
"Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Miss Lord."
"Well?" The monosyllable was sharp enough to cut.
"I stand by my principles," said Patty. "I am not a scab."
[Illustration: Patty just had time to snatch the box]
"You may sit here until those twenty lines are finished."
"Very well, Miss Lord."
"I do not wish you to suffer. Here is bread and water."
She motioned Osaki to set down the tray.
Patty waved it aside.
"I am not a convict," she said with dignity. "I refuse to eat until I am
served properly at the dining-room table."
A fleeting grin replaced for a moment Osaki's Oriental calm. Miss Lord
set the bread on a neighboring desk, and the two withdrew.
All through recreation and afternoon study, Patty sat at her desk, the
plate of bread conspicuously untouched at her elbow. Then the
five-o'clock bell rang, and the girls trooped out and dispersed on their
various businesses. The hour between afternoon study and dressing bell,
was the one hour of the day entirely their own. Patty could hear them
romping up the back stairs, and racing through the corridors. Kid McCoy
was conducting a pillow fight in Paradise Alley above her head. Groups
passed the schoolroom window with happy calls and laughter. Pepper and
Tabasco, the two riding horses, were saddled and brought out. She could
see the girls taking turns in galloping around the oval, while Martin,
as ringmaster, waved his whip and urged them on. Martin now was bent
with rheumatism, but in his far-off reckless youth he had been a cowboy,
and when he taught the girls to ride, it was with a disregard of broken
bones that dismayed even the adventurous gymnasium teacher. Patty was
his star pupil; she could stick on Red Pepper's back with nothing but a
blanket to hold her. It was only very occasionally, when Martin was in a
propitious mood, that the horses were saddled for mere public amusement.
Patty's heart was sore as she watched Priscilla and Conny, her two
dearest friends, disport themselves regardless of their incarcerated
mate.
It grew dusk; nobody came to furnish a light, and Patty sat in the
semi-darkness, her head bent wearily on her arms. Finally she heard
footsteps in the hall, and Miss Sallie entered and closed the door
behind her. Patty braced herself anew; one needed keen wits to match the
"Dragonette."
Miss Sallie had been talking with Miss Lord, and she was inclined to
think that Patty needed chastisement of a rare sort; but it was her
practice to hear both sides. She drew up a chair, and commenced with
business-like directness.
"See here, Patty, what is the meaning of all this nonsense?"
Patty raised reproachful eyes.
"Nonsense, Miss Sallie?"
"Yes, nonsense! Miss Lord says that you refused to learn the lesson that
she assigned, and that you incited the rest of the girls to mutiny. You
are one of the most able pupils in the class, and your failure to finish
the lesson is nothing in the world but stubbornness. If it were Rosalie
Patton now, there might be some sense in it."
"I don't think you understand," said Patty gently.
"It might be well for you to explain," suggested Miss Sallie.
"I must stand by my principles."
"By all means!" Miss Sallie affably agreed. "And what are your
principles?"
"To hold out for sixty lines of Virgil. It isn't because I _want_ to
strike, Miss Sallie. It would be much easier for me to do the eighty
lines, but that wouldn't be fair to Rosalie. The working day should not
be gaged by the capacity of the strongest. Miss Lord will flunk Rosalie
if the rest of us don't take care of her. Upon the solidarity of labor
depends the welfare of the individual worker. It is the fight of the
oppressed against the encroachments of--of--er--organized authority."
"Um--I see!--I really begin to believe that you listened to that
lecture, Patty."
"Of course I listened," Patty nodded, "and I must say that I am awfully
disappointed in Miss Lord. She _told_ us to apply our knowledge of
sociology to the problems of our daily lives, and when we do, she backs
down. But anyway, we intend to maintain the strike, until she is ready
to meet our just demands. It isn't through selfish motives that I am
acting, Miss Sallie. I should a lot rather have something to eat and go
horseback riding. I am fighting for the cause of my suffering sisters."
The ceiling above shook at the impact, as four of her suffering sisters
came down on top of one another, while the walls resounded with their
shrieks and laughter.
Miss Sallie's lip twitched, but she controlled herself and spoke with
serious gravity.
"Very well, Patty, I am glad to know that this unprecedented behavior is
caused by charitable motives. I am sure that when Miss Lord fully
understands the case she will feel gratified. Suppose I act as
intermediary and lay the matter before her? We may be able to arrive at
an--er--compromise."
The half hour that followed dinner was usually devoted to dancing in the
big square hall, but to-night the girls were inclined to stand about in
groups with furtive glances toward the schoolroom. A conference was
going on inside. Miss Lord, the Dowager and the Dragonette had passed in
and shut the door. Kid McCoy, returning from Paradise Alley, where she
had been stretched on her stomach with her face to the register,
reported that Patty had fainted through lack of food, that the Dowager
had revived her with whiskey, and that she had come to, still cheering
for the Union. Kid McCoy's statements, however, were apt to be touched
by imagination. The school was divided in its opinion of Patty's course.
The scabs were inclined to make light of her achievement, but Conny and
Priscilla staunchly fanned enthusiasm.
Finally, the schoolroom door opened, and the faculty emerged and passed
into the Dowager's private study, while the dancing commenced with
sudden fervor. No one to-day liked to be caught by Miss Lord whispering
in a corner.
Patty followed alone. Her face was pale, and there were weary circles
about her eyes, but in them shone the light of victory.
"Patty!"
"Are you dead?"
"How'd it come out?"
"It was perfectly splendid!"
"Was she furious?"
"What did she say?"
"We arbitrated the question and have settled on a compromise," Patty
replied with quiet dignity. "Hereafter the lesson will be seventy lines.
The Virgil strike is declared off."
They pressed about her eager for details, but she separated herself, and
kept on toward the dining-room door. There was an aloofness about her,
an air of having experienced the heights alone. She was not quite ready
to rub shoulders with common humanity.
The school settled itself to evening study, and Patty to her dinner.
They could see her across the court, through the lighted window, as she
sat in state at the end of a long table. Osaki on one side, tendered
preserved strawberries, and Maggie on the other, frosted cakes. The
rewards of martyrdom, in Patty's case, were solidly substantial.
IV
The Third Man from the End
"Oh, Patty! Did you bring us some wedding cake?"
"Did you have any adventures?"
Conny and Priscilla, with the dexterity of practice, sprang upon the
rear step of the hearse as it turned in at the school gate, and rolled
up the curving drive to the porte-cochère. The "hearse" was the popular
name for the black varnished wagonette which conveyed the pupils of St.
Ursula's from church and station. It was planned to accommodate twenty.
Patty and her suit-case, alone in the capacious interior, were jolting
about like two tiny peas in a very big pod.
"Adventures!" she called back excitedly. "_Wait till you hear!_"
As they came to a stop, they were besieged by a crowd of blue-coated
girls. It was afternoon recreation, and the whole school was abroad. The
welcome that she received, would have led an onlooker to infer that
Patty had been gone three months instead of three days. She and her two
postilions descended, and Martin gathered up his reins.
"Come on, youse! All who wants a ride to the stables," was his
hospitable invitation.
It inundated him with passengers. They crowded inside--twice as many as
the hearse would hold--they swarmed over the driver's seat and the
steps; and two equestriennes even perched themselves on the horses'
backs.
"What's the adventure?" demanded Conny and Priscilla in a breath, as the
cavalcade rattled off.
Patty waved her hand toward the suit-case.
"There it is. Take it upstairs. I'll be with you as soon as I've
reported."
"But that isn't your suit-case."
Patty shook her head mysteriously.
"If you tried a thousand years you'd never guess who owns it."
"Who?"
Patty laughed.
"Looks like a man's," said Conny.
"It is."
"Oh, Patty! Don't be so exasperating. Where'd you get it?"
"Just a little souvenir that I picked up. I'll tell you as soon as I've
interviewed the Dowager. Hurry, and slip in while Jelly isn't looking."
They cast a quick glance over their shoulders toward the gymnasium
instructor, who was arguing fat Irene McCullough into faster movements
on the tennis court. Miss Jellings was insistent that "recreation"
should be actively pursued out of doors. The two could easily have
obtained permission to greet Patty's return inside; but it was the
policy of the trio never to ask permission in minor matters. It wasted
one's credit unnecessarily.
Priscilla and Conny turned upstairs lugging the suit-case between them,
while Patty approached the principal's study. Ten minutes later she
joined her companions in Seven, Paradise Alley. They were sitting on the
bed, their chins in their hands, studying the suit-case propped on a
chair before them.
"Well?" they inquired in a breath.
"She says she's glad to see me back, and hopes I didn't eat too much
wedding cake. If my lessons show any falling off--"
"_Who_ owns it?"
"The man with the black eyebrows and the dimple in his chin who sang the
funny songs third from the end on the right hand side."
"Jermyn Hilliard, Junior?" Priscilla asked breathlessly.
"Not really?" Conny laid her hand on her heart with an exaggerated sigh.
"Truly and honest!" Patty turned it over and pointed to the initials on
the end. "J. H., Jr."
"It _is_ his!" cried Priscilla.
"Where on earth did you get it, Patty?"
"Is it locked?"
"Yes," Patty nodded, "but my key will open it."
"What's in it?"
"Oh, a dress suit, and collars, and--and things."
"Where'd you get it?"
"Well," said Patty languidly, "it's a long story. I don't know that I
have time before study hour--"
"Oh, tell us, please. I think you're beastly!"
"Well--the glee club was last Thursday night."
They nodded impatiently at this useless piece of information.
"And it was Friday morning that I left. As I was listening to the
Dowager's parting remarks about being inconspicuous and reflecting
credit on the school by my nice manners, Martin sent in word that
Princess was lame and couldn't be driven. So instead of going to the
station in the hearse, I went with Mam'selle in the trolley car. When we
got in, it was _cram_ full of men. The entire Yale Glee Club was going
to the station! There were so many of them that they were sitting in
each other's laps. The whole top layer rose, and said perfectly gravely
and politely: 'Madame, take my seat.'
"Mam'selle was outraged. She said in French, which of course they all
understood, that she thought American college boys had disgraceful
manners; but I smiled a little--I couldn't help it, they were so funny.
And then two of the bottom ones offered their seats, and we sat down.
And you'll never believe it, but the third man from the end was sitting
right next to me!"
"Not really?"
"Oh, Patty!"
"Is he as good-looking near to, as he was on the stage?"
"Better."
"Are those his real eyebrows or were they blacked?"
"They looked real but I couldn't examine them closely."
"Of course they're real!" said Conny indignantly.
"And what do you think?" Patty demanded. "They were going on my train.
Did you ever hear of such a coincidence?"
"What did Mam'selle think of that?"
"She was as flustered as an old hen with one chicken. She put me in
charge of the conductor with so many instructions, that I know he felt
like a newly engaged nursemaid. The Glee Club men rode in the
smoking-car, except Jermyn Hilliard, Junior, and he followed me right
into the parlor car and sat down in the chair exactly opposite."
"Patty!" they cried in shocked chorus. "You surely didn't speak to him?"
"Of course not. I looked out of the window and pretended he wasn't
there."
"Oh!" Conny murmured disappointedly.
"Then what happened?" Priscilla asked.
"Nothing at all. I got out at Coomsdale, and Uncle Tom met me with the
automobile. The chauffeur took my suit-case from the porter and I didn't
see it near to at all. We reached the house just at tea time, and I went
straight in to tea without going upstairs. The butler took up my
suit-case and the maid came and asked for the key so she could unpack.
That house is simply running over with servants; I'm always scared to
death for fear I'll do something that they won't think is proper.
"All the ushers and bridesmaids were there, and everything was very
jolly, only I couldn't make out what they were talking about half the
time, because they all knew each other and had a lot of jokes I couldn't
understand."
Conny nodded feelingly.
"That's the way they acted at the seaside last summer. I think grown
people have horrid manners."
"I did feel sort of young," Patty acknowledged. "One of the men brought
me some tea and asked what I was studying in school. He was trying to
obey Louise and amuse little cousin, but he was thinking all the time,
what an awful bore it was talking to a girl with her hair braided."
"I told you to put it up," said Priscilla.
"Just wait!" said Patty portentously. "When I went upstairs to dress for
dinner, the maid met me in the hall with her eyes popping out of her
head.
"'Beg pardon, Miss Patty,' she said. 'But is that your suit-case?'
"'Yes,' I said, 'of course it's my suit-case. What's the matter with
it?'
"She just waved her hand toward the table and didn't say a word. And
there it was, wide open!"
Patty took a key from her pocket, unlocked the suit-case, and threw back
the lid. A man's dress suit was neatly folded on the top, with a pipe, a
box of cigarettes, some collars, and various other masculine trifles
filling in the interstices.
"Oh!" they gasped in breathless chorus.
"They belong to him," Conny murmured fervently.
Patty nodded.
"And when I showed Uncle Tom that suit-case, he nearly died laughing. He
telephoned to the station, but they didn't know anything about it, and I
didn't know where the glee club was going to perform, so we couldn't
telegraph Mr. Hilliard. Uncle Tom lives five miles from town, and there
simply wasn't anything we could do that night."
"And just imagine his feelings when he started to dress for the concert,
and found Patty's new pink evening gown spread out on top!" suggested
Priscilla.
"Oh, Patty! Do you s'pose he opened it?" asked Conny.
"I'm afraid he did. The cases are exact twins, and the keys both seem to
fit."
"I hope it looked all right?"
"Oh, yes, it looked beautiful. Everything was trimmed with pink ribbon.
I always pack with an eye to the maid, when I visit Uncle Tom."
"But the dinner and the wedding? What did you do without your clothes?"
asked Priscilla, in rueful remembrance of many trips to the
dressmaker's.
"That was the best part of it!" Patty affirmed. "Miss Lord simply
wouldn't let me get a respectable evening gown. She went with me
herself, and told Miss Pringle how to make it--just like all my dancing
dresses, nine inches off the floor, with elbow sleeves and a silly sash.
I hated it anyway."
"You must remember you are a school girl," Conny quoted, "and until--"
"Just wait till I tell you!" Patty triumphed. "Louise brought me one of
her dresses--one of her very best ball gowns, only she wasn't going to
wear it any more, because she had all new clothes in her trousseau. It
was white crêpe embroidered in gold spangles, and it had a train. It was
long in front, too. I had to walk without lifting my feet. The maid came
and dressed me; she did my hair up on top of my head with a gold fillet,
and Aunt Emma loaned me a pearl necklace and some long gloves and I
looked perfectly beautiful--I did, honestly--you wouldn't have known me.
I looked _at least_ twenty!
"The man who took me in to dinner never dreamed that I hadn't been out
for years. And you know, he tried to flirt with me, he did, really. And
he was getting awfully old. He must have been almost forty. I felt as
though I were flirting with my grandfather. You know," Patty added, "it
isn't so bad, being grown up. I believe you really do have sort of a
good time--if you're pretty."
Six eyes sought the mirror for a reflective moment, before Patty resumed
her chronicle.
"And Uncle Tom made me tell about the suit-case at the dinner table.
Everybody laughed. It made a very exciting story. I told them about the
whole school going to the Glee Club, and falling in love in a body with
the third man from the end, and how we all cut his picture out of the
program and pasted it in our watches. And then about my sitting across
from him in the train and changing suit-cases. Mr. Harper--the man next
to me--said it was the most romantic thing he'd ever heard in his life;
that Louise's marriage was nothing to it."
"But about the suit-case," they prompted. "Didn't you do anything more?"
"Uncle Tom telephoned again in the morning, and the station agent said
he'd got the party on the wire as had the young lady's case. And he was
coming back here in two days, and I was to leave his suit-case with the
baggage man at the station, and he would leave mine."
"But you didn't leave it."
"I came on the other road. I'm going to send it down."
"And what did you wear at the wedding?"
"Louise's clothes. It didn't matter a bit, my not matching the other
bridesmaids, because I was maid of honor, and ought to dress differently
anyway. I've been grown up for three days--and I just wish Miss Lord
could have seen me with my hair on the top of my head talking to men!"
"Did you tell the Dowager?"
"Yes, I told her about getting the wrong suit-case; I didn't mention the
fact that it belonged to the third man from the end."
"What did she say?"
"She said it was very careless of me to run off with a strange man's
luggage; and she hoped he was a gentleman and would take it nicely. She
telephoned to the baggage man that it was here, but she couldn't send
Martin with it this afternoon because he had to go to the farm for some
eggs."
Recreation was over, and the girls came trooping in to gather books and
pads and pencils for the approaching study hour. Everyone who passed
number Seven dropped in to hear the news. Each in turn received the
story of the suit-case, and each in turn gasped anew at sight of the
contents.
"Doesn't it smell tobaccoey and bay rummish?" said Rosalie Patton,
sniffing.
"Oh, there's a button loose!" cried Florence Hissop, the careful
housewife. "Where's some black silk, Patty?"
She threaded a needle and secured the button. Then she daringly tried on
the coat. Eight others followed her example and thrilled at the touch.
It was calculated to fit a far larger person than any present. Even
Irene McCullough found it baggy.
"He had awfully broad shoulders," said Rosalie, stroking the satin
lining.
They peered daintily at the other garments.
"Oh!" squealed Mae Mertelle. "He wears blue silk suspenders."
"And something else blue," chirped Edna Hartwell, peering over her
shoulder. "They're pajamas!"
"And to think of such a thing happening to Patty!" sighed Mae Mertelle.
"Why not?" bristled Patty.
"You're so young and so--er--"
"Young!--Wait till you see me with my hair done up."
"I wonder what the end will be?" asked Rosalie.
"The end," said Mae unkindly, "will be that the baggage man will deliver
the suit-case, and Jermyn Hilliard, Junior, will never know--"
A maid appeared at the door.
"If you please," she murmured, her amazed eyes on Irene who was still
wearing the coat, "Mrs. Trent would like to have Miss Patty Wyatt come
to the drawing-room, and I am to take the suit-case down. The gentleman
is waiting."
"Oh, Patty!" a gasp went around the room.
"Do your hair up--quick!"
Priscilla caught Patty's twin braids and wound them around her head,
while the others in a flutter of excitement, thrust in the coat and
relocked the suit-case.