after Prin said we couldn't and what _do_ you think! He _came_ to New
York! He was the handsomest thing--the girls were all crazy about him,
when we described him! He wrote to Jule right away and asked her to
meet him at the Waldorf and she went real often and took me with her. I
used to take a book and pretend to read, but I watched every minute so's
I could tell the other girls. Once he bought me some chocolate, too,
when Jule told why I was sitting there. He said there were some more
Frenchmen coming over and he'd introduce them to us! Oh, the girls were
_wild_ with excitement! Then one afternoon Jule went to a tea-room and
danced with him and she didn't take me and some one saw her there and
told Prin and Jule was awfully scared, 'cause you remember Prin had told
her that the next scrape she was in she'd have to leave the school! And
what does Jule do but tell Prin that he was her _cousin_ who had been in
the French flying service! And Prin _insisted_ that she invite him up
to school for dinner like we always do our relatives and have him give a
talk about the war and Jule had the _worst_ time explaining how he had
to go away and couldn't come! And we knew all the while that Prin was
sniffing around the way she does for more information so Jule thought
I'd better go away for awhile so's she couldn't question me! I pretended
to faint one day--I can do it awfully well now--and Prin never said a
word when I told her I wanted to come here for a visit. But wasn't that
all exciting and wouldn't it be _funny_ if some day Jule married the
French soldier? His name is Henri Dupres. Only Jule says his teeth are
all filled with gold and he shows 'em _all_ the time as if he was proud
of them!"
Contrasted to these exciting revelations Pat felt that the telling of
her little experiences--the happy school with Aunt Pen, the Eyrie and
its secrets, the jolly hours at the Lee's, the basketball games, the
Scout work and play, would be stupid to Angeline!
Aunt Pen had bade Pat do everything she could to entertain her guest;
Pat found that Angeline was easily entertained. Indeed, the young lady
never failed to indicate with daring frankness just what she wanted to
do and what she did _not_ want to do. And to Pat's dismay none of
Angeline's desires included any of the other girls! Angeline stated
very plainly that she considered Peggy "stupid," Keineth "a kid," and
Sheila--"downright common."
"Why, do you mean she lives in that tumble-down house and her mother
keeps _lodgers_?" she had asked with scorn.
Pat had opened her lips to answer and then closed them quickly.
Something within her told her that nothing she could say would win
Angeline's approval of Sheila--she, too, months ago, when she was at
Miss Prindle's, might have thought the same thing!
Angeline, with pretty condescension, found Renee interesting. "Poor
little refugee!" she said when Pat told Renee's story.
The two girls divided their time in the moving-picture theatres, the
chocolate shops and the stores. Angeline never tired of hanging over
counters and showcases; because she was smartly dressed and possessed a
fund of information as to styles, she commanded respect and attention
from the clerks. Each day Pat grew more and more envious and impressed
by Angeline's "grown-upness."
Under Angeline's influence Pat began to feel ashamed of her own simple
garments and to contrast them unhappily with the finery Angeline spread
out over the bed for her inspection. She turned the henna and turquoise
creation over and over while Angeline told that it had cost twenty-five
whole dollars! "That's more than Renee and I earned all winter," Pat
thought. And Angeline put into her hands a pair of pumps, gleefully
remarking that "they were sixteen and I got them for twelve--_wasn't_
that a great bargain?"
In her rude way, which Angeline considered pretty frankness, she made
Pat understand, too, that she was "simply amazed" to find that Pat lived
in such a plain old house!
"Of course it's nice and roomy and all that--and a long time ago it must
have been fashionable, but you just _ought_ to see Brenda Chisholm's
father's new house on the Drive--why, it's like a _palace_!" She
enlarged, then, upon its grandeur until Pat felt deep chagrin that her
father had preferred to live on in the old homestead rather than to move
into a newer part of the city.
Pat knew that she loved the old library with its deep fireplace and the
rows of book shelves reaching to the ceiling and the long, deep windows
overlooking the slope of lawn between her house and Sheila's, the old
paintings on the walls and the softly colored rugs; she knew that her
own room, over the library, held all her memories of nursery days; that
she loved the way the morning sun, streaming in through the little
conservatory where the birds sang among the flowers, turned to gold the
dark oak panels of the dining-room. However, it must seem shabby to
Angeline after she had visited Brenda's new home! She looked at the more
modern houses they were passing, great piles of stone and marble
surrounded by well-kept lawns, and resolved to urge her Daddy to move
immediately!
One morning, a week after Angelina's arrival, the girls found themselves
with nothing to do. Aunt Pen had taken Renee out for a walk in the
Park. The sun was shining warmly, buds were appearing on the lilac
bushes, everywhere was the hint of spring. Aunt Pen had declared she had
heard an oriole, she and Renee had started in search of the songster's
nest. Pat had watched them depart with a little longing in her heart
and a hurt that they had not even asked her and Angeline to go with
them! Yet she knew how Angeline would have scoffed at the suggestion of
a walk in the Park!
Angeline now was arranging and rearranging her hair before the mirror.
Pat was crossly wishing she'd stop--she'd been fussing there for ages!
"What'll we do?" she asked, as Renee's and Aunt Pen's figures
disappeared up the street.
"Oh, let's go out somewhere for lunch. Then we can shop. You know, I
think it's a _shame_ your aunt doesn't buy you some decent things! If
_I_ were you I'd just go and get them myself! My goodness, you're too
old to be dressed like a little kid. How the girls at school will laugh
when I tell them!"
Pat's face flushed crimson. Angeline went on in her persuasive voice;
"If you don't just show your independence _sometime_ they'll go on
treating you like a child! Of course it's none of my business, but
you're my dearest friend and I _do_ feel sorry for you! And I can help
you pick out--oh, just a few things!"
Pat gave her head a little toss! "Shall we walk or ride?" she asked,
mutely yielding to Angeline's tempting.
"Oh, dear me, ride, of course! I couldn't walk a _block_ in those
heels!" and Angeline extended one of the bargain pumps for a loving
inspection.
It was necessary, before they started forth, for Pat to open her
treasure box in the Eyrie and take from it the crisp six dollar bills
which she had ready for her Victory pledge, due on April first. This,
with her week's allowance, seemed a great deal of money and would surely
meet the expenses of their outing.
As they whirled along the street toward the shopping section of the city
Pat caught Angeline's gay mood. With a little thrill she told herself
that they were embarked upon an adventure! At Angeline's suggestion
they lunched at a fashionable restaurant, always thronged at the
noon-hour. Emboldened by Angeline's composed manner, Pat gradually lost
her own awkward consciousness and enjoyed to the fullest the gay bustle
and confusion, the clatter of china, the music rising discordantly above
the endless chatter at the tables.
"_This_ is more like what we girls do at school," declared Angeline,
dipping her pink finger-tips into the glass bowl before her. "And now
let's go to the stores and find some things for you!"
Under Angeline's direction this was an absorbing process. She recalled
a love of a taffeta dress they had seen in a window. Of course it could
be charged--everyone must know who Miss Everett was! Fortunately for the
success of their shopping they found a clerk who had often sold dresses
to both Mrs. Everett and Celia. Anxious to make a sale, she assured Pat
that the dress would look beautiful on her! She shook out its flounces
temptingly as she said it. Angeline added that the flame-colored
chiffon collar was "chic--everyone's wearing them in New York!" Pat was
promptly thrilled with a mental picture of herself in the stylish gown!
"Of course your aunt will look cross for a moment," Angeline whispered,
"but it's really none of her business is it? I know _my_ mother likes
to have _me_ look after myself!"
So Pat bought the dress, gave the address, and carried it away with her
in a box. They then made other purchases; a silk and lace petticoat
that Angeline declared a "love," some chiffon ties, a velvet bag with a
jeweled top, a vanity case and a box of face powder.
"What _fun_!" cried Angeline, seizing some of the precious packages.
"Now I tell you what let's do! Let's stop at that Madame Ranier's place
and let her curl your hair and do it up! Then you'll look just peachy!
_All_ the girls are wearing their hair up now--truly, Pat! Why, you'd
be ridiculous in New York!"
They found Madame Ranier's and Pat spent an uncomfortable hour before
the mirror while a yellow-haired young woman curled her pretty hair with
long, hot irons. Angeline hovered over them both, giving suggestions
from time to time and exclaiming over the transformation. The hairpins
hurt cruelly and Pat had a feeling that she could never move her head
again; however, in spite of all this, she was secretly satisfied, as was
Angeline and Madame and the young woman, that the result was most
becoming and that she looked quite "grown-up!"
Then Angeline caught her arm. "Now, silly, just stand still _one_
moment and I'll have you looking _really_ like something," and to
complete her afternoon's work, she dabbed at Pat's nose with the tiny
powder puff she carried in her bag.
As they marched forth Pat tried to assume an airiness of manner she did
not feel. Between their luncheon and Madame Ranier she had spent almost
all of her money; the purchases she had had charged began to trouble her
soul. Angeline stopped suddenly at Brown's window--she saw a book there
that she declared she must have! All the girls were reading it! She
ran in without another word and Pat could do nothing but follow her.
The book, "All on a Summer's Day," was purchased and Pat paid for it out
of what remained of her money.
"Prin said we younger girls couldn't read it, but guess she can't say
anything to me now!"
"Now to wind up this jolly day, Pat--_I'll_ treat," Angeline said,
edging toward a chocolate shop.
As they sat down at one of the little tables Pat saw across the room
Garrett and Peggy Lee and Keineth Randolph. Her first thought was to
join them but something in their faces stopped her. In that moment's
exchange of glances, though the girls had nodded pleasantly enough, Pat
read surprise, disgust, and outright amusement!
A deep crimson dyed her face, in funny contrast to the powdery whiteness
of her nose. Trying to assume an indifferent air she turned her back on
the others and devoted herself to Angeline; her pride and satisfaction
had fled, though, leaving her deeply hurt, not so much because of the
girls' suppressed ridicule as by the thought that they had not invited
her and Angeline to join them.
Then Garrett added the last drop to her humiliation! As they trooped
out, giving a passing smile to Pat and her guest, Garrett slyly poked
Pat in the back and, leaning over, whispered: "Where'd you lose your
ears, Miss Everett?" Involuntarily Pat clapped her hands to the curly
puffs that were pinned carefully over her ears and threw Garrett a
wrathful look!
But her adventure was ending most dismally! Reaching home she threw her
boxes and bags and the book on her bed and fiercely shook out the
miserable hairpins! For ten minutes she brushed the offending curls and
then braided them into a tight pigtail. If Aunt Pen noticed the work of
Madame Ranier's young woman, or the daub of powder still decorating the
bridge of Pat's nose, she said nothing; neither did she question Pat
concerning her absence at luncheon. She and Renee were in high good
humor, they had had a happy afternoon and Renee was herself again.
"Pat, dear, don't you think--Renee is all better now--we might have some
sort of a party in honor of Angeline?"
Angeline's expressive face brightened. She was always prettily
agreeable when with the family. She clapped her hands to express her
delight.
"Let's have a dinner dance," she cried; then--"oh, how _dreadful_ of me
to speak right out--like that!" and she affected deep embarrassment.
"I had in mind a picnic at Hill-top on Saturday. The roads are open and
we can all motor out, have lunch and then go to the sugar camp. The sap
is running well, Mrs. Lee says."
Aunt Pen kept her eyes on her knitting and did not see the blank look of
astonishment that crossed Angeline's face. Pat had exclaimed eagerly
over the suggestion:
"I've never seen a sugar camp, have you, Renee?"
"Then I will tell Mrs. Lee that we will all go, Sheila and Peggy and
Keineth, and Garrett may ask some of the boys. Garrett can drive their
car too."
The next morning Angeline stayed locked in her room until after eleven
o'clock. Then, hearing Pat in the adjoining room, she suddenly threw
open the door and appeared fully dressed, even to the henna hat. To
Pat's exclamation of astonishment she answered:
"I'm going back on the Empire! Will you tell Watkins? Now _don't_ be a
silly and make a fuss, Pat--just tell your aunt that I had a telegram!
Jule wrote that everything was smoothed over and that I was missing some
fun! So you _don't_ think I'm going to stay any longer in _this_ dead
hole!" She snuggled her face in the Pekinese. "You've been a _dear_ to
keep me, Pat, but, you poor child, couldn't you see I was just bored to
_death_? And a sugar-party! Oh, la, la--_won't_ the girls laugh? Why,
I wouldn't be seen _dead_ at one!"
Slowly Pat stiffened until she stood as though made of stone. Her lips
tried to frame the tumult of wrath that raged within her, but she only
managed to say lamely: "I'll tell Watkins--if you've really--got to go!"
So Angeline and her dog and her bags of finery departed and ten minutes
later, the rage in Pat's soul bursting all bounds, she presented herself
at Aunt Pen's door, her arms filled with the hateful purchases of the
day before, her face red with the effort to choke back her tears.
Aunt Pen had just come in. So she was amazed when Pat burst out: "She's
gone and I'm glad of it! I just _hate_ her! She said we were stupid and
that Sheila was common--and she was--bored to death and we--we weren't
fashionable--and--and she wouldn't be seen _dead_ at a sugar-party! As
if anyone wanted her, anyway!"
"Pat, dear, one thing at a time! Who's gone? Angeline?"
Pat dumped her boxes on the floor and sitting like a little girl on Aunt
Pen's lap told of Angeline's dramatic departure. She could not see the
smile that stole over Aunt Pen's face; she could not know that the
sugar-party had been planned to bring about just what had happened!
Wise Aunt Pen had decided that Pat had had just about as much of
Angeline's company as was good for her! She listened to the tale of the
shopping, glanced at each purchase, then patted the hair that was still
curly.
"Poor Patsy, what a time you've had!"
"But I hate her, Aunt Pen, and I hate myself for ever having let her say
Sheila was common! Dear old Sheila!"
"Well, dear, you've learned something in values--all around! Sheila,
even though her life is a continual sacrifice of all the pleasures and
luxuries most girls have, is a finer girl and a more worth-while friend
than poor Angeline--and I think the _next_ time you'll stand up for her,
won't you, my dear? Now, for the book--_that's_ the place for that,"
aiming it at the waste-basket, "and if you want some novels I'll find
you some that are more thrilling and better brain-food. Your
curls"--she fondled the dark head--"they _are_ pretty, Pat--it's too bad
we aren't all born with curly hair and there's no particular harm in
having it curled, only--it does take _so_ much time that could be spent
in some much better way! And after a few years you can do up these
braids and be a young lady, but for awhile longer we want our Pat a girl
that can romp and play and get all the joy that youth alone offers!"
"Oh, Aunt Pen, you make me feel as if I'd been so silly! But what on
_earth_ will I do with all these things!" and Pat kicked at the
offending boxes.
"Well," Aunt Pen glanced appraisingly over the spilled contents. "You
can give the bag to Melodia and the vanity case to Maggie and we'll just
go back with the other things and ask the store manager to exchange them
for--what do you say to shoes for all the Kewpies?"
"Oh, joy! For Easter! Oh, you're _such_ a comfort, Aunt Pen!"
"Seriously, Pat, do you feel that you really need a dress? Perhaps I
have neglected you!"
"Oh, gracious no, I don't want to fuss with any more clothes! That's
all Angeline talked about! Let's take this truck back right after
luncheon!"
"Pat, dear, just a moment," Aunt Pen still had a little sermon tucked
away in her mind. "You mustn't hate Angeline--when you think all this
over you'll realize she has taught you a valuable lesson--perhaps you,
too, have given her something in return! Each one of us has within us
much that we give all unknowingly to others, that helps them. Think how
much little Renee has taught you with her unselfish companionship and
Sheila, who is so brave and cheerful and honest, and Peggy and all the
others! And you must think that you, too, in turn, through your
friendship, give them something of what is good in you! Can you
understand what I mean? So let Angeline go away with grateful thoughts
in your heart--she is silly now but some day she may outgrow all that
and be a fine girl!"
Pat's face reflected Aunt Pen's seriousness. "I just ought to feel
sorry for her 'cause she hasn't a mother and a daddy and an Aunt Pen
like I have! But, oh, I don't want to ever look another piece of
chocolate candy in the face again! And I'm as broke as broke can be and
have spent even my Victory money and I'll have to draw more from 'LaDue
and Everett' to meet my pledge and save all this month to pay it back,"
with a groan. "But, Aunt Pen, will we have the sugar-camp picnic just
the same?"
"We surely will," smiled Aunt Pen, folding the dress back into its box,
"and a good time, too!"
So Pat quickly forgot Angeline's insults, her abused stomach and her
empty pocketbook in a happy anticipation of the day in the woods at
Hill-top with the boys and girls who were her "really worth-while
friends."
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*FOR HIS COUNTRY*
"Paddy! Pad-dy Quinn! You get _right straight_ out of there!" The cry
came from Sheila. Returning from school she had spied, as she turned
into her walk, Paddy digging among her mother's precious tulips.
Sheila threw her books inside the kitchen door, taking pains to notice
that the room was empty, and then went back to punish the culprit.
Paddy lay crouched on the ground watching her with bright eyes and
wagging his stub of a tail in a way that was anything but repentant!
Perhaps the only thing that Mrs. Quinn loved more than Paddy, except of
course her Sheila and her Denny and her Matt and her Dare, were the
bulbs that grew each spring in the little border bed along the old
fence. Her tulips always put their tiny green leaves up through the
earth long before any other tulips; they were always bigger and brighter
and seemed almost human, the way they nodded on their silvery green
stalks and leaned toward one another as though repeating, like old
gossips the stories the robins sang over their heads. Each fall Mrs.
Quinn carefully covered them over and each spring, at the first feel of
warmth in the sunshine, she watched daily for the tiny green tips, as a
mother might watch for the return of a long absent son.
The children shared her interest, too--they could not be her children if
they did not love the flowers and birds and sunshine that made their
living joyous! The fairy stories she had taught them in their babyhood,
as she had rocked them in her loving arms, had made the familiar things
about them have a magic of their own; the old clock in the corner was
not ugly because elves lived in it by day and pranced from its old case
at night; a fairy princess had her fairy-palace in the nearby tree tops,
a prince hid in the wood box, the nodding posies that always budded and
grew wherever Mrs. Quinn lived, were the souls of sprites and at night
danced about under the star-light; the dew that could be found on the
blades of grass in the early morning were the jewels that they dropped
in their haste to flee back to hiding from the approaching dawn!
Trouble had been a frequent visitor in this magic household but the only
mark it ever left was an added line in the corner of Mrs. Quinn's
smiling lips, made by long night struggles over the dilapidated book
which contained the family accounts. Even when left a widow with four
children to bring up, she did not lose one bit of the optimism that,
years before, had made the whole world her Denny's and hers for the
conquering! Her Denny had been taken from her before any one of the
dreams they had dreamed had come true; still, for her, he lived on in
her Sheila and the three small boys who had red hair and blue eyes like
the father, and she still dreamed the old dreams for them. "There was
no cloud so dark but that it had its bright lining somewhere" was the
brave philosophy with which she directed her household, and the meals
that were often frugal she made cheery with some loving nonsense. The
sacrifices Sheila had to make as she grew older were nothing because she
knew her mother made them, too, and there was comfort in the sense of
sharing. The summer before Mrs. Quinn had taken the old brick house,
fashionable in its day, comfortable now, even in its shabbiness, and had
rented its rooms to lodgers. With careful economy this slender income
would keep them comfortable until the day, to which Sheila always looked
forward, when she herself could earn money and give to the boys the
advantages of education that she would not ask for herself. To her her
own little ambitions were as nothing compared to the big things that
must be done for the boys so that they would grow into great men!
Paddy had become, immediately upon his adoption, a favored member of the
family. He had privileges, too, and these increased as he willed
because, from the mother down, not one of them could speak crossly to
what little Dare called "the orphing dog." He slept in a box near the
stove when he was not stretched across the foot of one of the boy's
beds; he ate from a plate under the chair in the corner, a spot of his
own choosing, from which he could watch the course of the family meal
and ask for a second helping when he wished. He shared the rise and
fall of the family fortunes--a bit of liver when the rest had chicken, a
good bone on a holiday, a new collar when Matt found, on the walk before
the house, a crisp five-dollar bill that had no owner.
Though, as a dog--especially an "orphing" dog Paddy measured in good
manners up to the average, he had occasionally, during the winter,
fallen into deep disgrace. Time and again he had been found digging
vigorously in the back yard. Both Mrs. Quinn and Sheila had protested
violently! The bulbs were there and, too, it was Sheila's precious
war-garden--the best in the troop! Paddy had been punished--severely
for the Quinns; in spite of this he was found again and again at his
mischief.
"Oh, dear, he'll ruin everything," Sheila had cried, eying the havoc
Paddy had worked. The more the snow melted from the ground the more
determined Paddy seemed to dig his way straight through to China!
Then Mrs. Quinn had made the ultimatum! The children heard it with
worried faces; Paddy listened, disturbed, from the stove behind which,
after a chastisement, he had taken refuge.
"If we find him at it _once more_ he'll go straight to the pound! I'm
_not going_ to have my bulbs ruined!" And Mrs. Quinn had turned
resolutely away from the dismay and grief she saw in four young faces.
Sheila knew that her mother had meant what she said. That was why, on
this day, she had peeped into the kitchen before she went back to Paddy.
If no one had seen him then he might have just one more chance!
"You're a _bad, bad_ dog!" she said, advancing threateningly upon the
culprit.
But Paddy barked protestingly. His whole manner seemed to say: "I'm
through now. See what I've found!" And between his paws he held a
small tin tube, badly discolored from long contact with the earth.
As Sheila leaned over he jumped upon her, then pawed the ground where
the tube lay.
"What have you got? Don't you dare bury that in the tulip bed!" But he
barked so hard in protest that Sheila gingerly picked up his treasure.