A DINNER AND A DANCE
When Patty and Philip reached home, a little later than the others,
Roger was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Roger?” asked Patty, as she jumped out of the car, for she
wanted to make peace with him at once.
“He’s gone over to ‘Red Chimneys,’” said Elise, laughing. “He’s taken a
terrible fancy to that Galbraith girl.”
“I told you we needn’t mind about Roger,” said Patty to Philip. “I’m
glad he does like Mona, though I confess I was a little surprised at
first.”
Very soon Roger came back to “The Pebbles,” bringing Mona with him.
“Hello, people!” the girl called out, as she neared the veranda. “You
kept terribly sly about your birthday, didn’t you, Patty? But Mr.
Farrington told me last night, and father telegraphed to New York for a
present for me to give you, and it’s just arrived by special messenger.
How do you like it?” and Mona tossed a small box into Patty’s lap.
The others crowded round to see, and Patty opened the box, to find a
beautiful jewel pendant hung on a slender thread of a platinum
neck-chain. The pendant was a fair-sized sapphire, surrounded by tiny
diamonds, and was of fine design and workmanship.
“Mona! How lovely!” cried Patty. “But I can’t accept such a valuable
present from you.”
“Nonsense! It’s a mere trinket. I’m delighted to give it to you, and
father was delighted to get it for me, so you’ll simply have to take it.
I was only afraid you wouldn’t think it pretty!”
“Pretty? Why, it’s perfectly beautiful!” and Patty clasped the chain
around her neck at once. She was a little uncertain how to take the
gift, but she could not so hurt Mona’s feelings as to refuse it, and, if
she accepted it, she might as well do it gracefully. She cast an
enquiring glance at Nan, who, as usual, came to her aid.
“It’s a lovely present, Patty; and Mona is most kind and generous to
give it to you. I’m sure we all appreciate it.”
Thus tacitly advised, Patty thanked Mona prettily, and then Nan declared
it was time to think about dressing for dinner.
“You’re coming, Mona, aren’t you?” said Patty, for she knew Nan had
invited her.
“Oh, yes, indeed; I’ll be the first one here and the last one to leave.
Trust me for that!” and, with a merry laugh, Mona ran away across the
two lawns to her own house.
“She’s all right!” said Roger, looking after her.
“Yes, she is,” said Patty, generously; and, indeed, Mona had risen in
her estimation since Roger showed such approval of her.
And then the group separated, to meet again at the birthday dinner.
The three girls gathered in Patty’s room for a short chat first.
“What are you going to wear, Patty?” asked Elise.
“Oh, I have a new blue affair that’s perfectly dear. What’s yours,
Christine?”
“White,” said Christine, simply. “I can’t wear many colours.”
“You don’t need to, you angel person,” said Patty, kissing her. “You’ll
look heavenly in white. I’ve never seen you in evening dress. It is
evening dress, isn’t it, Christine?”
“Yes; that is, it’s a round neck, but it’s very simple.”
“You’re simple yourself,” said Patty; “simply sweet! Isn’t she, Elise?”
It was Patty’s delight to make Elise admire Christine, and of course it
wasn’t possible, when thus appealed to, for Elise to do anything but
acquiesce in Patty’s opinion.
“And now, honey, what’s your gorgeous creation that’s to dazzle the eyes
of the country people down here?” said Patty.
“Mine is green,” returned Elise; “and it’s a good enough frock, but I
know it won’t be in it with yours, Patsy.”
“Nonsense! It’s probably far handsomer. Aren’t we all getting grown-up,
to have dinner parties and low-neck gowns! Though mine isn’t exactly low
neck, it’s just cut out sort of round.”
“Yes, a Dutch neck,” said Elise; “that’s what mine is.”
“But still it does seem grown-up,” went on Patty, musingly, “to have a
birthday dinner and dance, instead of just an ordinary party.”
“Well, you are grown-up when you’re nineteen,” said Christine. “I’m
twenty, and I think I’m grown-up.”
“That’s because you’re Southern,” said Patty. “We stay little girls a
lot longer up here. And I’m glad of it, for I hate being grown-up. I
wish I could wear pig-tails and hair ribbons! Anyway, I’m not going to
act grown-up to-night; my party’s going to be a frolic, not a formal
affair.”
“How many are coming?” asked Christine, who had not entirely overcome
her shyness with strangers.
“Well, there’s about ten of our own crowd, and Nan has invited about ten
more of the Spring Beach people. The two Sayre girls are awfully jolly;
you’ll like them. And Jack Pennington is a dear boy, and so is Guy
Martin. And then there’s Dorothy Dennison and her brother,—and Phyllis
Norton,—oh, quite a bunch of them! And, Christine, don’t you go cutting
up any of your shrinking violet tricks! I want you to be the belle of
the ball!”
Elise looked up in surprise, but, seeing the determined expression on
Patty’s face, she said nothing; and, if she had her own opinion as to
who should be belle of the ball, she expressed it only to herself.
An hour later, the three girls went downstairs together. Patty in the
middle, with her sky-blue chiffon frock, was looking her best. The pale
blue suited her golden hair and pink cheeks, and the semi-low-cut neck
was exceedingly becoming to her rounded throat and chin.
Elise’s green dress was far more elaborate, but her brilliant beauty
seemed to call for an ornate setting.
Christine’s gown was perhaps the prettiest of all. Of white
crêpe-de-chine, it hung in soft, straight folds, and around the throat
was a delicate pearl embroidery. A girdle of pearl-work, with long ends,
gave a finishing touch; and on Christine’s willowy figure, and with her
Madonna face, the gown was appropriate and effective.
The boys, who were waiting in the hall, exclaimed in vociferous
compliment as the girls came slowly down the staircase, and declared
that such a trio of beauty had never before been seen.
“Nonsense!” cried Patty. “Don’t you talk to us as if we were grown-up
young ladies! We’re only a little bit more than schoolgirls. Just
because I’m nineteen, I’m not going to be treated with dignity! Roger,
will you dance the first dance with me?”
Roger looked embarrassed, and, though he tried to speak, he hesitated
and stammered.
“Why, Patty,—that is,—I’d be only too delighted,—but——”
“But you’ve already asked Mona!” cried Patty, with a teasing laugh. “I
knew it perfectly well, Roger, and I only asked you to tease you. And
I’ll be perfectly content with the second, so save that for me.”
“Indeed I will, and thank you kindly,” said Roger, and then Philip Van
Reypen and Kenneth both said at once, “May I have the first dance,
Patty?”
“No, indeed,” she returned, laughing gaily at them; “I’m not going to
give my first dance to any of my house party. There are several Spring
Beach boys coming, and I shall dance with whichever one of those asks me
first.”
Patty’s own particular decided wag of the head accompanied this speech,
and the men knew it would be of no use to coax her.
And then the other guests began to arrive, and the great entrance hall
of “The Pebbles” was a scene of merry laughter and chatter, and
greetings and introductions on all sides.
Under Nan’s orders, the whole place had been beautifully decorated. In
the hall and rooms were garlands and banks of flowers, and tall palms
shading alcoved nooks. The verandas were hung with Japanese lanterns,
and a few of these were scattered among the shrubbery, to light the way
for any who might be inclined to stroll on the lawn.
At eight o’clock, Patty, taking her father’s arm, led the way to the
dining-room. Nan and Mr. Hepworth followed, and then the others in merry
procession.
Dinner was served at small tables, as the number of guests was too large
to be accommodated at one. Each table was beautifully decorated with
flowers and candles, and pretty place-cards as souvenirs of the
occasion.
Of course there was a birthday cake, and when at last Patty cut it, and
each guest had partaken of it, the dinner was over, and the dance about
to begin.
Several musicians were on the broad landing, halfway upstairs, and
played just the right kind of music for young people’s merry dancing.
Jack Pennington asked Patty for the first dance, and, a little to his
surprise, she graciously granted it. He had hardly hoped for this
honour, but he didn’t know that Patty had planned it thus in order to
avoid selecting one of her house party in preference to the others. So
she danced with Jack Pennington, and afterward, as they sauntered out on
the veranda, all the other men clustered around Patty, begging for
dances, until her programme was full, and many of the dances had been
divided. Of course, as Patty was hostess, she would naturally receive
much attention, but her own merry and charming personality made her
easily the most popular girl present, though the others were almost
equally so. Handsome Elise was a general favourite, and Christine’s
delicate Southern beauty attracted many admirers.
Mona was resplendent in bright pink silk, elaborately ornamented. She
wore too many jewels, as always, but her whole-souled, good-tempered
gaiety, and her hearty enjoyment of the occasion, made her attractive to
many.
After a dance with Philip, Patty and he wandered out on to the veranda,
and sat for a moment on the railing.
“Beautiful show, Patty,” he said; “one of the prettiest parties I ever
saw. These lanterns are gorgeous. Why don’t you keep them here all the
time? Sets off the house wonderfully. Come down on the lawn for a little
stroll.”
“I’m afraid you’ll kidnap me,” said Patty, mischievously.
“No; honest I won’t. Though I’d like to. Say, let’s get Camilla out, and
go for a little spin. Will you?”
“Indeed, I won’t! We got out of that other scrape pretty well. But I’m
not going to take any chances again! Beside, the next dance is
Kenneth’s. I’d better get back where he can find me.”
“Oh, he’ll hunt you up, all right! Hello! Who’s this?”
Some one came running toward them through the semi-darkness. It was
Mona, out of breath and laughing. “Hide me!” she cried. “Hide me! I’m
running away from Roger!”
“How extraordinary,” laughed Patty. “You _are_ a coquettish young thing,
aren’t you, Mona?”
“Hide me, Patty,” urged Mona. “That’s a dear. Let me get behind you
two.”
Mona slipped around behind Patty and Philip, but, anxious to help her,
Patty said: “Back into the arbour, Mona; we’ll keep in front of you.
Hurry! here comes Roger.”
“Have you seen Miss Galbraith?” asked Roger, coming up to them, entirely
unsuspicious of Mona’s whereabouts.
“We’ve just strolled out here,” said Patty, innocently. “Why don’t you
look on the veranda, Roger? Does she know you’re looking for her?”
“Of course she does! On the veranda, you say?” and Roger was off like a
shot.
Patty and Philip, stifling with laughter, turned back to Mona, who stood
with her finger on her lips, cautioning silence.
And as, in obedience to her gesture, they were still, they all
distinctly heard a voice speaking on the other side of the arbour. The
speaker could not be seen, and the hearers had no intention of
eavesdropping, but it was Kenneth’s voice, and his tone was tense and
angry.
“I tell you, Elise,” he said, “I don’t believe Patty ever said that!”
“She did,” said Elise, with the accent of one who reiterates.
It was Philip Van Reypen’s impulse to walk round the arbour at once, and
make their presence known, but Patty silently put her hand on his arm
and led him toward the house.
Mona followed, also silently, for she realised at once that Patty was
disturbed at what she had heard. The words in themselves might mean a
mere trifle or nothing at all; but the seriousness of Kenneth’s voice,
and the petulant insistence of Elise, seemed to forebode trouble.
“What does it mean?” whispered Philip, as they neared the house.
“Nothing,—nothing at all,” said Patty, but she spoke in a low voice and
her lip was quivering. She had divined intuitively that Elise had told
Kenneth something to make him angry, and she felt sure that Elise had
done it purposely, and that she had misrepresented the facts.
“Shall I take you into the house?” asked Philip, gently. “I think you
said your next dance is Harper’s.”
“Not just yet,” said Patty, who was so hurt by Elise’s treachery that
she could not fully control her quivering lip and the tears that came to
her eyes.
Mona had disappeared, and so Philip said, “Let us stroll once more round
the drive, and then it will be all right.”
His voice was so pleasant, and his manner so quiet, that it acted as a
balm to Patty’s shattered nerves, and she looked up gratefully, and
smiled at him through two teardrops that trembled in her blue eyes.
“You’re awfully good,” she said, “and I’m not going to be silly. Never
mind it. But aren’t you engaged for this dance?”
“Yes, to Miss Galbraith,” he replied, smiling; “but I feel quite sure
she has forgotten it in her game of hide-and-seek with young
Farrington.”
“But you must go and find her, all the same,” said Patty, suddenly
mindful of etiquette. “Come! let us hurry to the house. I’m all right
now.”
They quickened their pace, and Philip talked with a cheery banter, so
that, when they reached the veranda, Patty was her own smiling, merry
self, and she felt profoundly grateful to Philip because he had not
again referred to the bit of conversation they had overheard.