LORRAINE’S ENDEAVOUR
Patty’s sunny disposition and invariable good humour exerted a
beneficial influence on Lorraine, though the effects were slow and
gradual. But the girl herself was trying to be more optimistic in her
general attitude toward life, and to a degree she was succeeding.
But one afternoon she came up to Patty’s apartment to sit with her for a
while, and the expression of her face was quite as dark and gloomy as of
yore.
Patty noticed this at once, but did not remark it; instead, she began
chatting in a merry vein, hoping by this means to cheer up her dismal
caller. But it was of no avail, for Lorraine evidently had a trouble of
some sort on her mind.
At last she exclaimed, in a stormy way, “I just _hate_ Elise
Farrington!”
“Oho,” thought Patty to herself, “so that’s the trouble, is it?”
But aloud she only said: “Why do you hate her? She doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes she does. She just snubs me right and left, and she doesn’t invite
me to her Casino, or anything.”
“Now look here, Lorraine, you are unjust and unfair. Elise doesn’t snub
you, or if she does, it’s because you don’t give her a chance to be nice
to you. You’re my friend, but Elise is my friend, too, and I want fair
play all around. I’ve seen you with Elise Farrington, and you snub her
worse than she does you; and I don’t wonder she doesn’t invite you to
see her!”
Patty didn’t often scold Lorraine as hard as this, but her sense of
justice was aroused, and she determined to give it full play for once.
Lorraine began to cry, but Patty knew they were not tears of repentance,
so she went on:
“It’s perfectly silly, Lorraine, the way you act. Here you might just as
well belong to the Grigs, and have lots of good times; but just because
you _prefer_ to consider yourself snubbed at every tack and turn, when
nobody means anything of the sort at all, of course you can’t belong to
a club whose only object is to be merry and gay.”
“I don’t want to belong to your old Grigs! I think they’re silly, and I
hate ’em all!”
“You _do_ want to belong, and you _don’t_ think they’re silly! Now look
here, Lorraine, I’m just about at the end of my patience. I’ve done
everything I could for you, to make you more like the other girls, and
though you’re nicer in some ways than you used to be, yet you’re so
foolishly sensitive that you make yourself a lot of trouble that I can’t
help. I don’t mind telling you, now that we’re on the subject, that the
girls are all ready to take you in as a member of the Grigs, if you’ll
be nice and pleasant. But we don’t want any disagreeable members, or any
members who insist on thinking themselves snubbed when nobody had any
such intention.”
Lorraine stopped crying and looked at Patty with a peculiar expression.
“Do you really mean,” she said, “that you’d take me into the Grigs if I
were not so bad-tempered?”
“Well, since you choose to put it that way, that’s just about what I do
mean,” said Patty, politely ignoring the fact that Lorraine had declared
she didn’t want to be a Grig.
“Well, then I _will_ be better-natured, and stop being so hateful to the
girls. Just make me a Grig and I’ll show you.”
“No, Lorraine, that won’t do; you’ve got to prove yourself first. Now,
I’ll tell you what—you be real nice to Elise and make her like you, or
rather, _let_ her like you, and then there’ll be no trouble about
getting you into the society.”
“All right,” said Lorraine, hopefully, “but what can I do? Elise won’t
speak to me now.”
“Oh, pshaw! yes, she will. I’ll guarantee that she’ll meet you half-way.
Now here’s a plan; you must do something like this. Get your mother to
let you invite Elise to come to see you some afternoon, and then invite
the Harts and me, too, and have a real jolly afternoon. They’ll all
come, and then if you’re nice and pleasant, as you know perfectly well
how to be, the girls can’t help liking you. Oh, Lorraine, you’re _such_
a goose! It’s a great deal easier to go through the world happy and
smiling than to mope along, glum and cross-grained.”
“It is for you, Patty, because you’re born happy, and you can’t help
staying so. But I’m different.”
“Well then un-different yourself as soon as you can. It’s silly—that’s
what it is—it’s worse than silly—it’s _wicked_ not to be happy and
gay. I’ve fooled with you long enough, and now I’m going to _make_ you
behave yourself! Laugh now, laugh at once!”
Patty’s gaiety was infectious, and Lorraine laughed because she couldn’t
help it. Then they fell to making plans for the little afternoon party,
and Lorraine’s spirits rose until there was nothing to choose between
the merriment of the two girls.
“And I’ll tell you what,” said Patty; “we’re making a scrap-book for
Roger Farrington; he’s in the hospital, you know. And if you will have
some funny pictures or stories ready to put in it, you needn’t worry any
further about Elise’s liking you. She’s the most grateful girl for
little things I ever saw.”
“Oh, I can do that,” said Lorraine; “I’d love to.”
Before Lorraine invited the girls to visit her, Patty had talked with
each one and made them promise to accept the invitation, and do all that
they could to help along the good cause, which, as she explained, was a
truly Griggish one.
So the four girls went to Lorraine’s one afternoon, all in a merry mood.
The little party was a great success, for Lorraine at her best was a
charming hostess, and her mother was very kind and hospitable.
Each girl brought some contribution for Roger’s scrap-book, and Patty
was secretly delighted when she found that Lorraine’s donation was quite
the jolliest of all.
Lorraine was clever with her pencil, and with her needle, and she had
designed some funny little football players by cutting pictures of
football celebrities from the papers. These she had dressed up in bits
of real material, had made the footballs of real leather, and made tiny
silk flags in college colours.
Elise was delighted beyond all measure at the clever little figures, and
when Lorraine, a little bashfully, offered a poem she had written to go
with them, the girls all declared she was a genius. It was a humorous
poem, with a football refrain, and Elise said that she was sure Roger
would commit it to memory, and quote it on every possible occasion.
Happily the girls went to work, cutting and pasting, drawing and
sketching, writing and sewing, on the various pages until the scrap-book
became a marvellous work of art.
Patty asked them to leave one or two pages blank for Mr. Hepworth’s
funny sketches, and promised too, that he would decorate the cover.
A few days later, Mr. Hepworth spent the evening with the Fairfields,
and willingly agreed to add his share to the book.
He filled a couple of pages with drawings funny enough to make a whole
hospital laugh, and then adorned the cover with a conventional design of
football players and Grigs, surrounding a patient-looking patient in a
hospital cot.
While Mr. Hepworth was sketching, Patty related with glee how much
Lorraine had helped with the book, and how really amiable and pleasant
the girl had begun to be. As Mr. Hepworth was a frequent visitor at the
Fairfields’, he knew a good deal about Lorraine, and was much
interested.
“If Lorraine is really trying to live The Merry Life,” said Mr.
Fairfield, “she ought to be aided and encouraged in every possible way.
Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Patty. Next Saturday afternoon I’ll
take you and Lorraine to the circus. We’ll take Grandma along, because
the circus is one of her favourite forms of amusement, and we’ll take
Hepworth, as a reward for this truly beautiful art work he’s
accomplishing this evening. Now, we’ll invite one more favourite friend
and you may select anyone you like.”
“Oh, papa, let’s ask Kenneth. He’s working awfully hard just now, and
he’d enjoy the fun so much.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hepworth, cordially, as he looked up from his drawing,
“ask young Harper—he’s always an addition to any party.”
“I’m delighted to go,” said Grandma. “I’ve thought about it ever since
they put up the big posters. I certainly do enjoy a circus.”
“Your tastes are certainly frisky, Grandma,” said Mr. Fairfield. “Now,
for a lady of your dignified appearance an oratorio or a nice lecture on
psychology would seem more fitting.”
“When you invite me to those, I may go also,” said Grandma, gaily; “but
next Saturday afternoon I consider myself engaged for the circus. You’ll
have a box, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Fairfield, “we’ll have anything that’ll add to your
pleasure; not omitting pop-corn and pink lemonade, if they’re to be
had.”
“Oh, papa!” cried Patty, “this kind of a circus doesn’t have those
things. You’re thinking of a country circus. The circus in Madison
Square Garden isn’t like that.”
“Well, at any rate,” said Mr. Hepworth, “I hope it has all the
traditional features in the way of clowns, and freaks, and acrobats, and
other trained animals.”
“Yes, they have all of those,” said Grandma, eagerly, “for I saw them on
the posters.”
They all laughed at this, and declared it was more fun to take Grandma
to the circus than to take a child.
Both Lorraine and Kenneth accepted the invitation with pleasure, and
Kenneth volunteered to make Lorraine his especial charge, and if the fun
of the circus flagged, to amuse her with some ready-made fun of his own.
Saturday was a beautiful, bright day, and Mr. Fairfield promised to come
home to luncheon, in order that they might all start together, in ample
time for the performance.
About eleven o’clock a card was brought up to Patty by the hall boy.
“Miss Rachel Daggett,” she read in dismayed tones. “Grandma! she has
come to stay a few days! She said she would, you know, the last time we
were in Vernondale, and now she’s here. Oh, I wish she had chosen any
other day! She wouldn’t let me set the time, but said she would come
whenever the mood struck her.”
“Well, my dear, you can’t help it. Send word for her to come up, and
make the best of it.”
“But, Grandma, what about the circus? She won’t go with us—I can’t
imagine Miss Daggett at a circus—and somebody will have to stay home
with her. I’d just as lief stay myself as to have you or papa stay, and
of course we can’t leave her alone.”
“Perhaps she’ll want to lie down and rest after her journey,” suggested
Grandma.
“Not she! Miss Daggett _never_ lies down to rest. I can’t imagine it!
No, I think we’ll have to give up the whole trip. Perhaps papa can
exchange the box for some other date.”
By this time the visitor was at the door, and Patty and Grandma greeted
her pleasantly.
Miss Daggett had been their next-door neighbour in Vernondale, and Patty
was really fond of the queer old lady, but she only wished she had
chosen some other day to visit them, or had at least let them know
beforehand.
“I told you I’d come when the mood took me,” said Miss Daggett, as she
removed her antiquated bonnet.
All of Miss Daggett’s apparel was what Patty called ancient and
honourable. Her gown and cloak were of the richest material, but made in
fashions of many years ago. Although a woman of wealth, Miss Daggett was
subject to whims, one of which was to wear out the dresses she had
before buying any new ones. As this whim had followed another whim of
lavish extravagance, the dresses in question were of rich velvets and
brocades which did not wear out rapidly. The result was that Miss
Daggett went about, looking as if she had stepped out of an old picture.
Patty was quite accustomed to her old-fashioned garb, but suddenly
realised that in the hotel dining-room it would be rather conspicuous.
But this thought didn’t bother her much, for she knew it was something
she couldn’t help, and Miss Daggett had the dignified air of a thorough
gentlewoman, notwithstanding her erratic costume.
“I’ve come to stay three days,” she announced in the abrupt way peculiar
to her; “I shall go home Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock. Let me look
at you, Patty. Why, I declare, you look just as you always did. I was
afraid I’d find you tricked out in all sorts of gew-gaws and disporting
yourself like a grown-up young lady.”
“Oh no, I’m still a little girl, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, “and I’m
just as fond of fun and frolic as ever.”